Luminous

25 - Weighing Options

"Finally, some privacy."

Lord Zier mused airily as he and Meya shared the shade of a large oak tree standing sentry at the castle's town gate, overseeing the charity tent in uneasy silence. Meya glanced at his sly, knowing grin, then swiftly turned her focus to the rowdy marquee.

The castle's almoner stood under the crimson canvas, decked out in a crimson robe falling to his ankles, hurriedly ladling stew from an enormous pot into all sorts of containers (Meya could've sworn she saw some grandma with a flower vase). Half a dozen castle servants flanked him, following suit.

A long table splattered with dollops of stew separated the castle workers from the poor and the crippled. Basked by the sun, the ragged commoners stood in a dozen lines, waiting anxiously with their 'bowls.'

The stew wasn't the usual leftovers-thrown-in-a-vat but newly cooked, simmering merrily over a freshly-dug hearth. It really was a special charity tent.

Something buzzed about Meya's ear as if Zier was saying something else. But, there was a redheaded, freckle-faced girl bobbing among the crowd. The sight of her whisked Meya to the past.

Whenever Mum ran out of coppers for breakfast, one of the Hild children would walk to the castle and line up for leftovers. Marin would grab a pot and come home with it filled to the brim without having to line up. Meya would be lucky to make it back with some soup left in her bowl.

"Ahem!"

Meya jolted out of her reverie. She whipped around to find a disgruntled Zier and placated him with an apologetic grin.

"Yes, my lord?"

Zier wrinkled his nose.

"Just Zier, please." He rolled his eyes and repeated, "As I was asking, how shall I address you? Normally, I'd use fair maiden or Lady Arinel, but seeing as you're neither fair nor maiden nor Lady Arinel?"

Zier leaned in, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Meya shot a covert glance at the almoner. Seeing him still busy rationing stew, she whispered out of the corner of her mouth,

"I may not be fair nor Lady Arinel, but I'm still a maiden."

"And I might have believed that," Zier cocked his head, sly grin growing even wider, "If it didn't so happen Father had Simon and Christopher glue their ears to your door that First Night, and now, pretty much the whole castle's heard what they heard."

As Meya gawked, Zier counted on his fingers, "To summarize, mostly you screaming my brother's name, how well-endowed he is, several words I'm not allowed to utter, and a few Fredas here and there."

Meya's cheeks burned red-hot. Zier topped it off with a cheeky grin. Events of that night flashed before her eyes, and she felt like drowning her head in the almoner's boiling soup vat.

It was embarrassing enough waking up in the middle of the night and hearing Mum and Dad making love on the other side of your one-room cottage, but this?

"W-w-why haven't your parents said anything?" Meya spluttered, "I keep telling them we haven't done it!"

"They will. Once the guests have left." Zier cocked his head, his smile sliding off and leaving behind a vacant expression. He shrugged at Meya's raised eyebrows, "Of course, they want grandchildren, but Lexi's dead against it. You should've heard them quarreling in Father's study."

"Lord Coris just told me he's barren." Meya argued, a wary frown on her brows. Zier tilted his head,

"He may or may not be. No one can prove that, can they?" He leaned ever closer, poring deep into Meya's wide, fearful eyes, then drew back and jammed his hand down his cloak pocket, "He's never slept with anyone before, so be safe and Silfum up, Maiden-My-Foot."