Luminous

103 - Dead Men Tell Tall Tales

"You shouldn't have come here. You shouldn't have to see—"

Meya glared at him as if he'd insulted her whole family, prompting Coris to cut his sermon short and leave her to lather her face with mucus in peace. Silence fell, soothing and unobtrusive. Slowly, the resentment in the air ebbed away, until Coris felt safe enough to try and argue his case once more,

"I'm grateful for the times you saved my life, but you're a woman, and you're pregnant. You can't put yourself in harm's way. Least not for me." He trailed away weakly.

"That's not what you said back there." Meya shot back flatly. She still refused to look him in the face. Coris nodded with a sigh of surrender,

"I know. I was the consummate arse. I'm so sorry." Meya didn't respond. Coris took a step closer.

"I was scared I'd lose you. I was just too embarrassed to say it in front of them—"

Meya snorted, then pulled a face when she tasted the gunk she'd inhaled down her throat.

"Very well, that and my pride was wounded." 

Muttered Coris shamefacedly. Meya sneaked a glance out of the corner of her eye. His head was bowed and his face cast in shadow, his hands tucked behind him as they usually were, but his fidgety toes were no longer shielded by warm boots, naked in the Hyacinth sandals. The sight softened Meya just a bit.

"I'm sorry, too." Sighing, she looked down at her middle, cradling it with nervous fingers. Tremors spread up her arms and shoulders to her throat, flooding her eyes, infecting her voice, "You're right. I could've killed our babe. The situation was delicate—I shouldn't have butted in. This is all my—"

"No. Don't." Coris swept her into his arms, and her restraint crumbled to dust. He held her tight as she cried, combing his fingers through her hair, "I almost died in Jaise. It's only natural. And I came up with the plan. My father allowed it. Amoriah used those followers like pawns—"

"But still—"

Coris waited for her to finish, but Meya didn't know how. It didn't matter who the plan belonged to, or how many people approved of it—the fact remained that Coris wouldn't have gone through with it if Meya hadn't agreed. Coris was right, wasn't he? She was tainted. She lost hope. She chose the easier way out. And this was Freda's punishment.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Coris pressed his forehead against hers.

"Each man in that courtyard adds a drop of chaos to our plan. These things...they just happen, Meya...when we're up against people."

He breathed, his voice strangled with sobs. His cold skin rubbed against hers as he shook his head,

"But if we let it stop us here, this will be the end. I'll not say the good will be worth the sacrifice. Nothing can justify the lives we lost. But at least...if we keep...walking..."

Coris hammered out, swallowing and gasping. Meya had never heard him struggling so hard to speak. He shivered as his tears slid down and mingled with hers on her cheeks. Meya couldn't bear to see him face his nightmare again, over and over, worse and worse. Just to satisfy her selfish dreams.

"But what if more people die? What if we fail again?" She whispered as she burrowed her face into his chest, "The brothel's freed. We got Hasif's eye. We just sort things out with Lord Crosset then we go home to Hadrian. Let them old folks go on if they want to. Freda knows they should be the ones doing this. Not some stupid peasant girl."

Coris didn't speak for a long moment, simply caressing her hair. When he did, his voice was steady,

"In every minute of our lives lies a choice. To do nothing, or do something."