Luminous

11 - The Choice ❣️

"You must have noticed I have frail health." Coris squeezed his trembling hands together. His face and voice betrayed no emotion, "I don't expect to live much longer. Zier will succeed Father as Baron Hadri—"

Coris broke off, overwhelmed by a bout of hacking coughs. He bent double, his hand clamped over his mouth, jolting with each crippling round.

Meya dashed to the bedside cabinet and rushed back to Coris with a gobletful of water. He managed a nod of thanks, then took a long drink. He handed the goblet back with a sigh. Though Meya was still trembling, Coris continued as if nothing had happened, his voice now hoarse and cracking,

"So, I am giving you a choice. If you choose to consummate our marriage, you will be widowed in a few years—or months. However, you will become Lady Hadrian and, after my death, Zier will provide the best care for you for the rest of your life. If you choose not to, after my death, you can have the marriage annulled on grounds of nonconsummation. Then, you can return to Crosset, start anew with a worthier husband."

Meya's heart thundered in panic. She dithered when it should've been an easy choice. Yes—she wanted to be Lady Arinel, she must shoulder all the name entailed. No—with the bandits on the prowl, anything could happen. She musn't do something permanent as losing her virginity.

She rose to return the goblet to the nightstand, more to stall for time than out of actual necessity.

"There's no need to rush. Think it over carefully," Coris concluded quietly. Meya spun around, but he was no longer paying her attention. He picked up nightclothes chambermaids had laid out on the bed and changed for bedtime.

Meya frowned at his bare back. The more she knew him, the more he perplexed her. He was different from what she'd expected of the rich and the noble. He was dying soon, yet he seemed reluctant to take what was rightfully his, even when it was within his grasp.

"What about you, Lord Coris. What do you want?" Coris turned around at her call, eyebrows raised. Meya hesitated on the proper wording,

"Have you ever—shagged a girl?"

Coris gaped at her as if she'd just emerged through a wall into his room, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Sh-sh-shag?" He stammered.

Oh, Fyr. Nobles don't use shag? What do they use, then?

Cursing and praying to Freda inside her head to keep her cover, Meya steered the discussion well away from dangerous waters,

"You asked if I'm a virgin! Why can't I ask if you've shagged a girl before?"

Coris gawked, blinking in bewilderment. At last, he surrendered with a sigh and a nod of resignation.

"No, I haven't." He mumbled shamefully. Meya stared in disbelief. He was eighteen and Lord Hadrian. He could've taken any woman he wanted. How could he remain chaste for so long?

"And you're happy to die that way?" Meya traipsed towards him, eyes narrowed in intrigue, "You don't want to know what it's like?"

"It's not a question of what I want, but what I should do." Coris shrugged, a frown undercutting his serious expression,

"No matter what we choose tonight, I won't be living with it for more than a few years. But you still have a future, a lifetime ahead of you. I'm dying. I have no right to take your life away from you or decide it for you. Even as our fathers insist I do."

Coris unfurled an empty smile, then hung his head and played with his fingers. Meya could, at last, make sense of his thinking process, somewhat.

I am giving you a choice.