Luminous

86 - The Way of Dragons

"It won't be for long, Meya." Arinel hurried on before Meya could aim a snipe at Coris, reasoning darkly, "Father's very old. After he dies, Crosset would fall under Hadrian rule anyway. Even if I bore a son right after I married Coris, he wouldn't grow up in time to take the seat. Father's not looking to get anything. He's just lashing out, out of pure spite."

There was a pause as the unfortunate truth sank in. The answer was in the air, Arinel could sense it, the inevitable solution they could all deduce. Yet, Meya had always been the one to see the light beyond the fog, a better solution. The last, always, to surrender, and Arinel looked to her with hope. This time, however, even Meya had been disheartened.

"There's only one solution, then." She sighed, then met Arinel's gaze, her eyes brimming with guilt,

"All this happened because I manipulated you and took your name. And you sided with me. Lord Crosset has every right to be furious. The least we could do to show good faith is to have you two consummate the marriage with us bearing witness. Return things to the way they should be." Seeing the lawfully wedded couple still frozen defiantly in place, Meya blinked, aghast, "Now! Amoriah's men could be here by next sunset. We don't have much time."

"Meya—" Arinel mounted a protest, but Meya had turned away. She bent down and selected a log from the fire, then ventured into a side-tunnel.

"I'll go find a spot for you two to shag."

The gathering stared after Meya and her little halo of light until she took a turn and vanished, except for Zier, who was still reeling from the new developments and sat slumped against the nearest stalagmite, lost in his personal void.

Arinel kept her eyes on Coris for Meya's sake, studying his every twitch. She must figure out what he had gleaned—if at all. What was Meya thinking, anyway? Banking on Coris of all people being tactful when boys could be surprisingly dense when it comes to picking up hints? Not to mention he was already in denial of his own virility, too.

Coris must have sensed her probing. He turned to her with a forced grin.

"You don't second that proposal, do you?" He jested.

"Of course not!" Arinel snapped. Coris accepted defeat with a feeble chuckle.

Silence fell again as the echoes of her voice died away. Baron Hadrian peered into the darkness of the side-tunnel, frowning.

"Persuading Olivis is nothing compared to the king. Is that all she has for us?" His level voice was lined with cool disappointment. Coris clenched his fists. He fixed his eyes on the dancing shadows on the cave floor, cheeks reddening. Perhaps he had realized his blunder. Finally.

"She hasn't given up. She's just—not at her best." He stammered.

"Then bring it out. I'll wait. Simon and I will take over from here. Go."

The Baron's voice remained sharp, but his eyes were gentle. After one last hesitant glance, Coris snatched a blazing log from the fire then hurried away after his dragon maiden. As his echoing footsteps faded, Baron Hadrian settled down on the boulder in his son's place.

"So, Gillian. I heard your men refer to you as commander?"

In the firelight, the lines of Gillian's jaw tensed.

"The title was given to me by humans. For slaughtering humans. The name was simply part of my disguise." He explained, brusque and flat, then tore his gaze away from the fire and met Kellis's eyes,

"Dragons of old did not need names to recognize one from another. Now we do. Our way of life is dying, Kellis. We've become dependent upon the Nostrans for survival. Pledged our wings and flame to their cause, and made enemies of the entire human race in the process."