Luminous

95 - The Wager

Silence answered her confession. One by one, Meya pried open her eyes. Coris hadn't moved. He stood there, blinking, his expression blank, then an uneasy smile twisted his lips.

"You're not." He shook his head, his voice unnervingly light and calm as he settled down gently before her, "Pregnancy shares many symptoms with common ailments. Have you ruled out other possibilities?"

Meya gritted her teeth to tamp down the sudden surge of annoyance.

"It's me womb, Coris. I think I'd know."

Coris blinked, astonished. A flash of hurt flitted by in his eyes, yet he attempted to conceal it behind a grin of derision,

"How? You haven't slept with other men, have you?" He asked airily, forced laughter in his voice, then glanced away, "Or have you lain with Gillian before you arrived in Hadrian?"

Meya's head went momentarily blank, stunned, all emotion usurped by white-hot fury that seared her writhing heart. How could he? How dare he? For a beat, she mouthed unspoken gibberish, then found her voice.

"'Tis your child!" She cried in exasperation. Coris lost his smile, rolled his eyes then sprang up, pacing moodily.

"How many times do I have to repeat this? I'm barren! I can't sire a child!" He snapped, arms flailing.

"Oh, you dunno that!" Meya crossed her arms and whirled away fuming. Coris scoffed,

"It's my manhood, Meya. I think I'd know." The little donghead tossed her barb right back at her.

"No, you don't!" Pushed to the brink of her patience, Meya bolted to her feet. Her nose a mere inch from Coris's, she let loose,

"I kept track of me monthlies. I took note of changes in me body. I asked Philema for advice. I pissed over wheat for a week. I retch day in and day out. That's how I know. You taught me! Gather as much information as possible before drawing conclusions. How did you know?"

"The healers said—"

"And how many years ago was that? You were a boy back then! You got your bowels scorched, not your crotch. You could never know for sure. Not until you've been bedding your wife for years and she hasn't become pregnant once!"

Silence descended between them once more, ringing with their combined outbursts. Meya stood panting, her chest heaving as her wide eyes stared unflinching at his wavering gray. At long last, Coris broke away, leaning his forehead against the bars once more with a long sigh, his eyes closed. His hands trembled as he clung to the railing.

Meya had no illusions about his opinion on children, and she gritted her teeth against rebellious tears as she clutched her middle. The poor thing might not have a father. And it was all her fault.

"You're far stronger than you believe yourself to be." She began, even as suppressed sobs choked her voice, pleading with his seemingly unheeding back, "Have some hope. Why d'you always have to resign yourself for the worst? Why d'you feel so content with the bare minimum of a life when you could have so much more?"

Coris did not respond. His long, pale fingers tightened their grip around the metal bars. Sapped by the disheartening sight, Meya slumped back down on the sparse mat of hay.

"Acceptance leads to action, you said." She sighed. Coris finally turned around, eyebrows raised, wary. Meya shook her head, "I know you dun want children. I just need you to believe me, so we can decide what to do with this thing."

Meya gestured feebly at her belly. Heaving another sigh, she fell back against the icy wall and closed her eyes. There was a pause, then Coris's boots dragged across the hay towards her.