Luminous

88 - Sins of the Father

It must have been an hour since Coris left to pursue his fair maiden. After a lengthy discussion, Gillian and his dragons decided to conserve their energy for the night.

Every so often during their enlightening talk, Kellis had strained his ears for the echo of returning footsteps, but there were none. Either Coris and the girl had gotten themselves lost in the meandering caverns, or their torches had been spent during their talk and they had decided to tuck in, wherever they were. Knowing his son, though, it was likely the former. And so Baron Hadrian took yet another log from the bonfire and set off after the couple.

Kellis rounded the second bend, and heaved a sigh of relief. Just beyond the halo of light, lay a crumpled bundle of Hyacinth's purple-embroidered toga, topped with a crop of brown hair he recognized immediately as his son's. The boy appeared to be in uneasy sleep—the bundle rose and fell in rapid succession due to his ragged breathing. He rushed in with light, rustling steps, knelt down and swept aside Coris's fringe. Sweat drops glistened in the torchlight against fever-blushed skin.

Where is that girl?

As if she'd sensed his fury, the unmistakable sound of retching traveled to him from beyond the cavern's bend, too faint to stir the slumbering but just loud enough for a vigilant ear.

Kellis's fingers grew numb on the log. The girl retched a few times more, then fell silent. Weary, dragging footsteps echoed towards him. The girl reappeared, wiping her mouth on her scaly, metallic arm. Spotting him, she froze, eyes bulging. She drew back a step, then changed her mind and crept forward, falling gingerly to all fours.

"Milord. I—I won't claim no birthright or nothing." She whispered, shaking her bowed head, "I won't tell him nothing, neither. Just let me keep it for now. Please."

Kellis couldn't yet form a reply, overwhelmed by the myriad of developments. Underneath his palm, Coris's forehead burned. He roused himself and focused on the urgent.

"What's wrong with him?" He murmured. After a disoriented pause, the girl edged over to Coris and straightened his tossed-aside blanket.

"Withdrawal, milord. He hasn't taken his laudanum. He insisted he'll fight it for one night. So I just keep him warm."

She reached for their abandoned, half-burnt logs and laid them on the stone floor. Kellis obligingly added his torch to the pile, handed the girl his cloak, then settled down across from his son. The girl wrapped the garment around Coris then slid away to the shadows, hugging her knees to her chest, staring glumly into the fire.

"Meya, is it?"

Kellis broke the silent vigil. Glowing acid-green eyes flicked over to him, then away just as soon.

"Yes, milord." She mumbled, curling into a tighter ball.

"I've yet to thank you for all the times you saved my son's life. Sylvia and I have given our blessing for your union. I take it Coris hasn't told you?"

Meya whipped around, eyes wide. His hunch proven, Kellis cursed his boar-headed son inside.

"But I'm a peasant. A Greeneye. Dragon." The girl hissed as if worried he'd forgotten, brows tied and shoulders tense. Kellis sighed as he studied his son.

"It happens when you're a parent. And you only understand once you become one."

Meya blinked, a look of mingled suspicion and bewilderment in her eyes. Kellis linked his fingers loosely on his lap as he gazed into the dancing fire.

"Two hundred years. Why have we done nothing? Coris asked me." He smiled wanly at the memory, "Little did he know, I demanded the same of my father. He didn't reply. Then, on the day Coris was born, and the midwife handed him to me, and I held him for the first time—"