Luminous

36 - A Tale of Two Sisters

Jason gawked at the boy a bit more, then shared a look with Draken. With a heavy sigh, he reached for the doorknob, turned and pushed.

A blur of golden hair rushed towards him, then the body attached to it slammed into him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

"Meya!" Jason cried in glee. The girl surfaced with glowing, acid-green eyes and a toothy grin. She squeezed Jezia, slapped palms with Deke, then smiled at Draken, who returned it then stepped aside for the three Hild boys.

"Maro! Marcus! Myron! M-"

Meya stopped mid-syllable once the signal from her eyes had reached her brain, and it notified her which M of the family she was about to address.

The young woman stood with an arm akimbo. Under her frilled headdress, her straight hair skimmed her shoulders in rippling blonde curtains. Her signature brown dress spread out under a worn apron spattered with what looked like old blood—and in a gruesome twist was actually Meya's blood from when she chopped off her fingertip. Her ice-blue eyes resembled Marin's but flavored with cranberries instead of honey. She stretched her lips into a cold sneer.

"What's up with the blonde tresses, Dung Curls? I say Myron still wore it best. So you'd better get shaving."

"Morel!?" Meya exclaimed, too flabbergasted to take offense. Morelia Hild raised a well-practiced eyebrow and let loose, as if she had been rehearsing for this exchange throughout her six days on the road.

"What? Do I need another permit to be in your presence, Lady Hild?"

Meya deadpanned, throwing up both hands in seeming surrender.

"Don't ask me. I don't know nuts about permits." She extracted a small lace drawstring bag from her brassiere, then waggled it before Morel's flaring nostrils and crossed eyes. Slivers of gold coins peeked out between its fine mesh—the monthly allowance she had just received from the Treasurer.

"Does coming to gloat but getting your arse shoved back in your face count as family business?"

"Girls, come on! Lay off the rotten eggs. Morel, you promised to be civil." Maro shot the seething Morel a scolding look, then turned to Meya, his expression pained,

"There's been, uh—a last-minute change."

"Yeah, second born, always second choice." Morel tutted just loud enough to distract Meya from that cryptic statement.

"Oi, if I recall correctly, I told Dad to send you instead and you sniveled at his feet for him to send me?" She sneered, green eyes glowing twice as bright. Morel smirked.

"Oh, I knew he'd never send me away. Because I'm needed." She curled a sheaf of her hair, a maniacal glint of glee in her other eye as she winked one, "I just did it so you could hear him say it to your face."

"You bi—" Meya bared her gritting teeth and marched in.

"GIRLS!"

Maro snatched Meya and Morel's shoulders, keeping them from tearing out each other's necks. Looking over Meya's head, he could see her three friends seated at the table gawking at the spectacle in bewilderment, and his cheeks burned in shame. With one hand patting the cowering Myron's hands to let go of his arm, he glared at Marcus, who seemed sullen that the upcoming wildcat prizefight was cancelled.

Still fuming, Meya stashed her gold away, then glanced about the throng.

"Where's Dad? At the inn?"

Everyone tensed up. Meya stood up on her toes, craning her neck to see behind Maro, then pulled back to stare at him. Those large, glowing eyes were brimming with hope, and as he looked into them, Maro couldn't help cursing his father. After a heavy sigh, he shook his head miserably.