Luminous

34 - Burning Red ❣️

One whole week shut in one's bedroom could work wonders on the human psyche. For all their differences, Coris Hadrian and Meya Hild arrived at the same state of mind: Crippling boredom.

Once Meya had agreed to let Coris tag along to her reunion with her folk, Coris set Simon to fetch a venue for their meeting and write a reply to Jezia.

As Arinel would be occupied by her post in Muldor's lab, Zier by sword practice with Sir Jarl, and Heloise and Fione by their training under Baroness Sylvia, it fell to Christopher to help Sir Bayne arrange a proper burial for the five fallen Crossetian guards and notify their bereaved families, now that the truth was exposed.

After the arrival of afternoon tea—a plate stacked high with rose-red syrup waffles, a tea set shrouded in rose-scented vapor, and rose-scented tea candles ("Very subtle, Head Cook Apollon," said Coris scathingly), the bedchamber was left to the newlyweds.

In Coris's opinion, nothing worked better to humor a sour dragoness who didn't want more reading lessons than impressing her with the machinations of a water clock, a tour of your vast gallery of canine portraits and library of rune books, or a gander at the fruits of your dearest childhood pursuit...

"And this...is my rock collection."

All that was a lie; Coris was trying to overwhelm Meya with his niche interests, so she would succumb to reading before perishing to boredom. Yet, his plan had backfired; Meya marveled at his eccentricities. That or she was so bored after a week of reading lessons that even admiring rocks was rejuvenating, or she'd cottoned on to his scheme.

"Rich boy rock collection, you mean," said Meya as she examined an iron bead the size of her thumb. Coris raised his eyebrows, and she turned around with a smirk, "Myron's got naught but riverside pebbles in his crate. Oh, and some crapstones."

She returned the iron bead to its snug bed. Coris pouted.

"Not so fast. I'm sure I have one in here somewhere," He pulled the box to himself and lifted out the layers.

"Aha."

Meya gawked. Coris had offered her what looked like dried dung carved of glittering gray clay, looking extremely proud of himself.

"You do realize you're presenting the fair maiden with fossilized dragon dung, Sir Knight?"

"It represents undying love. As time flies, roses wilt. Dragon dung turns to stone," Coris shrugged with a smile.

"Why thank you, milord. I shall cherish it. 'Tis a fine specimen of glittery doo."

Snorting, Meya turned the romantic gift between her fingers. Dragon crapstones were scattered across Latakia, but the real gold lay in their bones, scales and eggshells, made of an undecipherable combination of metals.

Historians believed dragons once lived in Latakia before migrating to Everglen. Meya had often wondered why they left. Her current guess was they'd left in fear of Lattis when the initially harmless cavemen of Latakia first learned to mine.

"Looks like powdered rock paste pressed through a sausage maker," Meya commented, then caught Coris's eye,

"What do dragons eat? They burn humans to a crisp, so I dun think 'tis us. Wait, just you. I'm a Greeneye. And we ride dragons! Pssshaaaa! 'Tis one well-done Lord Hadrian!"

Meya brandished the dragon dung stone like a seaman would a helm, blowing fire noises as she gyrated her body to imitate a slaloming eagle. Coris chuckled weakly as he fingered his lips, wringing his brain for the safest way to slither out of this conversation,