Luminous

36 - A Tale of Two Sisters

Yet, deep down, she knew it wasn't her eyes nor Marin. She was distracting herself from the obvious, much harsher truth. How could a girl ever hope to be loved by any man, if her own father didn't adore her?

It was only once she was banished from Crosset, the only home she had ever known and thus where all her worst memories were made, far from the judging eyes of her people and the shadows of her sisters, that Meya found cause for her rebellion in the need of others. She glowed soft and warm from within, no longer smothered by the sun's fire nor reflecting it with a vengeful, blinding glare.

And once she'd learned of her father's desperate attempt to save her from exile, she finally believed she might, after all, be worthy of love. So she mustered her courage and professed her heart to Coris Hadrian, and together they agreed to give their budding romance a chance.

However, old resentments die hard. Barely a week into their whirlwind courtship, Marin denied Terron's offer for her to join his troupe as his wife and travel Latakia with him. She continued to live the one life she'd known; bolted up and alone in Hild Cottage.

Meya would never know Marin's reason for that, but one thing she knew was she would never, ever forgive her.

⏳

The Crimson Hog was Hadrian's oldest, most popular nighttime destination for merrymaking, to locals and travelers alike. The alcohol-induced laughter of raucous diners spilled through cracks between wooden panels. Mouth-watering fumes of various dishes billowed out the chimney and windows.

Despite its age, the rickety old tavern was always worked to full capacity, and pushed to bursting point during the week of the May Fest. Peasants were allowed to travel outside their birth manors only during holidays, and anxious tourists who had been miserly for half their lives queued up at dawn to have their names down for a bowl of Old Mother Gelda's famous sausage-and-ale-stew in the wee hours of the night.

Thus, it came as no small surprise to Jason Boszel when, after he had asked for Meya's reservation, the Greeneye waiter boy led his group through the aisle between crammed tables towards a room at the back of the tavern.

There was no way a little maid girl could snatch a private room in the most famous alehouse of Hadrian during the Fest, was there?

Draken was of the same mind. Even the young ones were blinking blankly at the door with bulging eyes, then they all turned to stare at Jason, their de-facto spokesperson.

The portly merchant gulped. With a flick of his hand, he beckoned the waiter boy to lean his ear towards his mouth,

"My lad, I don't mean to be rude, but are you sure this is Meya Hild's reservation?"

The waiter, who was Old Mother Gelda's grandson, looked just as bewildered as Jason. He didn't even double-check his ledger,

"Yes, sir. Lady Hild requested privacy for her attendants, and paid with a bill." He answered slowly, glowing eyes glancing at each of Meya's motley attendants in turn.

Jason's eyes nearly popped out.

"A bill!?" He exclaimed, his voice arcing an octave higher than normal. The waiter nodded like a tired bobble-head.

"Yes, sir. Stamped with the Hadrian crest."

"Did she come by here herself? Greeneye? Orange hair? Flat nose?" Draken gestured about his face. The Greeneye boy scrunched his similarly flat nose, then shook his head,

"No, sir. She sent a representative. But there's a lady with eyes and a nose like mine and golden hair inside. She arrived with three companions a quarter-hour ago."