Meya woke up with a throbbing pain and a swollen lump on the right side of her neck. She tried to lift her head, but then her brain started swinging drunkenly around, like a slowing top teetering on her spine. Fuzzy orange torch-fires on stone pillars grew pointy blades like jousts and stabbed at her eyes.

Just as she was about to give up and go back to sleep, a shrill voice arced into her ears and added to her torture.

"Arinel!"

Warm, soft hands enclosed hers in a tight squeeze. Blurry faces popped one after another into her field of vision, then gradually sharpened.

Sitting on a bedside chair to her right was Baroness Sylvia. Baron Kellis was standing behind her. Standing opposite them to Meya's left was Lord Coris, who was panting heavily and looked livid. Lord Zier was a little way behind, arms crossed and leaning against a bedpost. The real Lady Arinel and Gretella were kneeling beside the bed.

All of them looked pale and careworn, except for Coris, of course. The puzzling sight had Meya croaking out feebly.

"What's up with me?"

Meya heard a rustling of long robes, then Bishop Riddell's hulking frame entered. Gesturing towards Coris, he explained.

"Lord Coris said you two were in the Town Hall when a wooden beam broke and fell down towards him. You pushed him out of harm's way, and were hit yourself."

Meya blinked, eyes wide. She did remember walking up the stairs with Coris, but everything after that was still...nothing.

"You might have trouble recalling it now. Your memories should come back gradually." Riddell cocked his head, as if he had heard her unspoken concerns, then frowned, his airy voice falling grave.

"You were extremely lucky, my Lady. The beam must have landed on the side of your neck, so you simply fell unconscious. Had it landed directly on your nape, you could've died or been crippled for life."

Died or crippled for life!? Meya felt a wave of chill rushing down her spine at the mere thought. She sensed Coris tensing up and shot him a quick glance, then turned back to Riddell.

"How did the beam break? Was it old? Was it because of the earth-shake?" The tremors seemed to have gotten into her voice somehow.

"Earthquake." Zier corrected under his breath.

"Yeah, that." Meya waved a feeble, dismissing hand, too groggy to be annoyed, then went back to Riddell, "Was that it?"

Riddell pursed his lips and turned hesitantly to Coris, who was staring daggers at his father throughout the exchange. After a barest side-eye at Riddell, he began as if picking up right where the fight left off.

"You heard him, Father. She could've died. She could've been crippled." He jabbed down at the bed with a long, bony finger, then threw his hand towards the window. "Today it was her. Tomorrow, it could be anyone. Anywhere. We must approve the repairs now, but before that, the Ban must be lifted!"

"Corien Hadrian, your wife has just woken up after risking her life for you, and you're yelling over her head at me about some godforsaken roof beams?"

Baron Kellis's sharp rebuke exploded out of his throat like a barrel of gunpowder, rippling the very air of the room with ringing echoes. Coris bit his lips and fell silent, yet he still glared at his father. Kellis glared back, icy blue eyes flaring.

"You are not Baron Hadrian." He continued, slow and freezing cold. "I shall deal with the matter myself. You are to tend to your wife until she recovers fully. Is that clear?"

Coris said nothing, and Kellis repeated louder.

"Is that clear, Coris?"

"Crystal, my liege." Coris's reply was forced through gritted teeth, yet the Baron didn't seem to want to extend the fight. He swept towards the door, signaling Bishop Riddell to hastily whisper his apology and dismiss himself with a quick bow.

Arinel surreptitiously patted Meya's hand, then rose and followed Gretella out. The Baroness met Coris's eyes miserably and shook her head with a sigh, then beckoned Zier over to help her to her feet.

Once the door had closed behind the last visitors, Coris slumped heavily down on the bed edge. After slouching there looking dejected for a moment, he straightened up, swung his legs onto the bed and sat cross-legged beside Meya's head. He caressed her cheek, his fingers trailing down to the bulge on her neck as he leaned down and kissed her.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me." He whispered as he drew away, "How are you feeling?"

Meya managed a one-shoulder shrug and a grimacing smirk, too tired and dazed to summarize her current pathetic state into words. All she knew was she felt like Coris's default morning mood; low energy, ridiculously calm, and always ready to sleep until lunchtime tomorrow.

"What were you two going on about?" She flapped her hand, gesturing feebly between the door and her husband. Coris sighed heavily.

"The last time the Town Hall was repaired was about thirty years ago. We planned to do repairs again this year, but then ore ships start disappearing and resources became short, so Father kept delaying it."

"Bailiff Mansfuld's men found a leak-hole on the roof over the beam that broke. Our rainwater comes from Neverend Heights, so it's very acidic. It probably ate away the wood over the years, and today's earthquake finally snapped it free."

There was a pause as Meya's normally speedy brain sluggishly processed the complicated, science-laden explanation. Coris was sitting on her left, so she could turn her neck and look at him as she asked on.

"Are there any more holes? What about everyone working in the Town Hall?"

Coris cocked his head.

"No one else was hurt this time, thankfully, but we have to vacate the building until the engineers made sure there are no more danger."

As Meya wondered how long it would take before anyone would dare set foot into that manor again (herself included), Coris slid off the bed and walked to his study desk.

"Anyway, you should tell your father what happened." He swiped a stack of letters from atop a paper pile on his desk and strode back. "Letters from Crosset just came today. Here."

He pulled the topmost letter from the twine-tied stack and handed it to her. Large letters were scrawled on the back of the letter in charcoal.

"Thanks."

Meya took the letter, flipped it over then cracked the seal. Had Meya's brain been in full working capacity, she would probably have noticed the seal was the tusked-whale of Jezia's clan, not Arinel's snow fern.

Coris made no sound as Meya pulled out the scrap of parchment, then pretended to read the charcoal scribble that looked a lot like Jezia's handwriting (Why did Lord Crosset use scraps and charcoal, though?).

"You can't read, can you?"

That calm, cool voice pierced the silence, like a pebble hitting the rock bottom of a deep, yawning chasm. Meya froze as she struggled through the fog clouding her brain to make sense of what was going on, but all she could do was turn slowly around to meet those sharp silvery eyes. Coris's expression—or rather, the lack of it—could have been etched in stone, and Meya felt her trembling hands growing numb with cold.

How did he know I can't read? How long had he known? What else did he know? What was he getting at? What did this mean?

Questions popped up in her Meya's brain one after another as she mouthed wordlessly. The room felt colder as the clock ticked by the seconds, as if Coris was filtering the heat from the air with every breath he inhaled. Then, his lips finally moved.

"That letter is from Jezia Boszel, addressed to Meya Hild. That happens to be your real name, isn't it?"

Meya pursed her lips tight, even when her tongue felt so stiff she wasn't sure she could say anything anyway. Slowly, she slithered out of the blankets and backed down from the bed, straightening up on unsteady feet, as Coris circled the four-poster towards her.

"I am not going to harm you." The young lord held up his pale, spider-like hands. They were empty. "If I had meant to, I would've done it long since."

"Long since?" Meya forced out, her voice shivery and squeaky. Her eyes rapidly scanned that wraith-like frame for the bulge of a sword hilt, or the gleam of a dagger somewhere. She bent her knees and relaxed her feet, ready to flee at a split-second's notice. "Since when have you known?"

"I haven't." Coris shrugged, serene silvery eyes taking note of Meya's every twitch. "I just have a hunch, right from the first night, which I gradually confirmed."

Coris slipped a hand down his trouser pocket, then withdrew with a coin on a thong that gleamed rainbow in the firelight. Meya instinctively slapped a hand to her neck, where she was sure the Lattis coin had been there mere minutes ago. She felt nothing but naked skin.

Since when...or was it when he...kissed me?

The revelation was unnerving. And she had sat there talking with him about godforsaken roof beams without realizing her eyes were glowing like ghostly bonfires. Coris had said he wouldn't harm her, and he had saved her life even when he had suspected she was an impostor, but the notion that he had been biding his time, silently observing her for days while playing the gentle lover, somehow made him seem as intimidating as Gillian...or even worse.

Never underestimate Coris Hadrian.

She understood now what Arinel meant, and the thought of what could have been scared her out of her mind. What if she hadn't changed sides and gone through with the heist? What if Coris had decided she was an enemy? What else did he lie about? What else was an act?

It pained her to think that hours ago, they were simply good friends sharing snacks, swapping tales and enjoying May Day. To think that just last night they had made love so passionately then lain side by side sharing heartfelt talk. But was there any truth in what they have?

No. There wasn't any truth. It was all a lie. She should never have forgotten, since she herself had started it. Coris was simply playing along. It was her fault she was starting to believe that it would actually last.

Swallowing the bitter taste squeezed up from her constricted chest, Meya gathered her courage and her wits and began negotiating, her strangled voice still shaking slightly.

"My liege, you've had plenty of time to confront me, but you waited until now. You've had plenty of time to kill me, but you didn't. You've had plenty of time to set me free, but you also didn't. What exactly do you want to do with me?"

Coris's pale, chapped lips stretched into a slight grin.

"I abhor killing." He declared firmly, silvery eyes boring into her frightened green. "I've seen the real Arinel is alive. I know you mean us no harm. There are other ways we can deal with this, that would be beneficial to the both of us. But first, I'd like to know your demands."

"Demands?" Meya repeated incredulously as she blinked cold sweat out of her eye. "I just want my life."

"And where would you go after I spared your life? Home to Crosset?" Coris asked on, an eyebrow raised in mild interest. Meya froze in surprise, then gathered herself and shook her head.

"Of course not, my liege. My family would be fuller this winter without me hogging on their bread. That's why my father sold me off in the first place."

As she said it, Meya felt strangely hollow in her stomach. But she wasn't being sarcastic. How could she go home like this? Kicked out of her job with her virginity lost? Dad would bury her alive if he ever found out. Plain and lowly as she is, who would ever believe she had lain with Lord Hadrian?

"Where would you go, then?" Coris pried further. Meya forced the shivers back down as she wracked her brain, then she felt Jezia's letter still in her hand, and it occurred to her.

That's right! Jezia! I could travel with Jezia's caravan and become a merchant!

But Meya's giddy happiness vaporized just as quickly, when a sinking realization hit her.

No, Jason would never allow it. He'd definitely tattle to Dad.

Sighing glumly, Meya shrugged and improvised.

"Somewhere far, I guess. I'll pay a merchant's caravan to get me far from here. So you won't ever have to worry about me talking."

"And what next?" Somehow Coris still won't let her off the hook, and Meya squirmed uneasily. Why the Fyre was he so interested, anyway? Would her future life goals somehow factor into her odds of escaping punishment?

"What would you do for a living once you're there? It's not easy getting a Residence or Landholder permit as a lone woman. You'd be forced into prostitution in the end."

Prostitution!?

Meya's eyes nearly bulged. Prostitution! Oh, Freda. Dad would totally skin her alive if she merely had the thought.

"No, no, no. I don't think I'll ever be that desperate, my liege." Meya hastily held up her hands. She finally could guess why Coris was so interested in her life after Hadrian.

"You don't have to worry about turning a woman away to fend for herself, my liege. I can gamble and swindle. I can hunt and forage. I don't need a piece of parchment to tell me where to live and how to earn bed and bread."

"It's not easy living as an outlaw. Especially as a lone woman as young as you, without a single Latt to her name." Coris's argument remained chillingly grounded in reality, and Meya bit her lip in fear. "Would you rather be gored by bears and hogs, or be raped, robbed or killed in a back alley?"

For a long moment the two locked eyes, calm silver upon startled green. Meya looked down and picked at a loose thread on her nightdress.

Coris was right. She couldn't survive on her own on the streets, far on the other side of Latakia. But she couldn't go home like this, either. She had nowhere to go to. No one she could turn to. Even if she really got out of Hadrian alive, she had no idea what to do after that. Perhaps, all she could do was walk on and hope for the best.

For the first time in her life, Meya felt as if she were alone in the three lands. It wasn't that she was never alone. Even when surrounded by three brothers and three sisters and a few friends, she was always somewhat alone, inside.

But at the least, she had a home and a family she could go back to, at the end of the day. No matter how unwelcome she might feel there, there was still something there for her. And now, there was nothing.

After a silent moment, Coris sighed and suggested, his voice gentler.

"Pride will only destroy you. Wouldn't it be wiser to go home—and marry, if your family didn't accept you back?"

Meya hitched up a rueful grin as she raised her eyes, now glowing green, to meet Coris's, then averted her gaze, clenching her trembling hands around the silken hems of her nightdress as she went on bitterly.

"No man would want a Greeneye. Not even a father. And I'm not a maiden anymore, remember?"

Meya could feel Coris's gaze of horrified realization in the tense silence that fell between them. He must have educated himself on Crosset's culture prior to his marriage to Lady Crosset. That was why he asked for permission to lay with Arinel that first night.

Crosset was much more set in the old ways than Hadrian. The village's elderly women have ways to determine if a maiden's purity is still intact on the days leading up to her wedding. Should a bride-to-be fail the test, her punishment would be severe, elaborate and humiliating. Being paraded around the Manor and whipped would be among them, probably.

"Of course I remember." Coris snapped, offended. There was an uneasy pause as Meya forced out a wry, bitter grin. Cursing in an undertone, Coris took a step towards her.

Meya couldn't bear to meet his eyes. It's not that she blamed him. She had chosen by herself. She had no-one to blame but herself, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Rather to make your own mistakes and suffer the consequences, than let someone else point out the right choices for you. At least, this time, she had that choice. He had not taken it away. For that, she would always be thankful.

Meya knew from the start that Coris would never truly be hers, that this life would not last, but she hadn't expected the dream to end so soon, so abruptly. It was just too much to handle for now. She needed more time to cope.

"I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't have lain with you."

Coris's voice was barely more than a whisper, tender and flowing with guilt. Meya swallowed hard when she felt her heart writhing, then shook her head with a melancholic little smile.

"You gave me the choice, my liege. Something few men in your place would have done." Looking up to meet those beautiful silver eyes, Meya's smile widened in reassurance, even as she must keep her whole body from trembling, her voice from shaking.

"You and Lady Arinel are gracious and noble. It was an honor to serve the both of you, no matter how brief. I don't regret everything that happened here. I did everything I could to keep us all alive. And if someone would remember me for that—just for a little while—it's all worth it."

With a wistful smile, Meya looked down and fidgeted with her sleeve. As Coris looked on, she unpinned the ruby brooch from inside her sleeve, pulled off her wedding band, and laid them down on the bed.

"I believe these belong to your real wife, my liege." She said with a laugh, before adopting a more serious, sincere tone as she delivered what she reckoned would be a last farewell.

"I wish you health and happiness, my liege. I'm glad we can part on friendly terms. My time here is up. I shall be on my way."

Wrapping it up with the most graceful curtsy she could manage without toppling sideways, Meya steeled herself against fear as she turned away and headed to the stone arch painting. She had barely taken two steps when Coris's long-silent voice halted her in her tracks.

"Meya—Meya Hild."

That was the first time he had ever addressed her by her name—her real name.

Meya turned back. Coris was still standing by the bed, half his face a silhouette backlit by the moonlight streaming in through the open window, and the other half bathed by the flickering, reddish glow from the fireplace. For a breath, it felt as if everything stood still. All was silent except for the crackle and sputter of the fireplace as it devoured the logs, before Coris went on in his quiet yet firm voice.

"I am going to give you a choice."