Meya woke up to the twitter of morning birds, the warmth of sunshine filtering in through the gap in the curtains, and the softness of the duck feather-stuffed four-poster bed. The air smelled fresh and clean. Meya sucked in a deep breath and let it peter out as she savored the scent.

This is heaven. Pure heaven. After sixteen years sleeping on moldy hay sheets in a one-room cottage crammed with nine echoing with her father's snores. Still, Meya preferred the snore to the alternative, which involved her mother and one of the things children weren't allowed to do.

Speaking of which...

Recalling the events of last night, Meya giggled to herself as she buried her heated cheeks into the bouncy pillow. Yet, it wasn't long before her senses sharpened enough to register the lack of human presence by her side, and the hair-raising sound of violent coughs renting through the morning calm.

"Coris?"

Meya sprang up to find the young lord bent double on the edge of the bed, spewing the contents of his throat down a chamber pot. After a moment of useless fretting, Meya scampered over, one arm holding the pot and the other running down his bony back.

After an excruciating minute, Coris calmed. Taking heaving breaths, he looked up, and Meya noticed with horror the reddish speck mingled in the fluid flowing from his lips.

Swallowing her panic, Meya poured some water into Coris's glass and handed it to him. Once he had rinsed, she gave him a towel to wipe his face with, then eased him down to bed and pulled up the blanket.

Coris opened his eyes, and, seeing the shock in hers, he unfurled a consoling smile.

"Sorry. It happens all the time after I overexerted." Slyness crept into his benign grin as his gaze swept over her. "Must've had too much fun with your body last night."

Meya felt as if all the blood in her system had pooled on her face. Covering her chest with one hand, she socked him hard on his arm with the other.

"Ow!" Surely it wasn't that painful, but from the way Coris was moaning, the servants would think she'd butchered his manhood or something.

"Good grief, lady! Do you not see how sick I was?" Cried Coris as he cradled the sore spot on his arm. Meya shrugged at the sight of those reproachful silvery eyes.

"I did, but I wasn't sure so I checked."

Pouting, Coris slithered under his blanket as he griped for her to hear.

"Isn't Lady Arinel supposed to be calm, obedient and gentle?"

"And isn't Lord Coris supposed to be fat, spoiled and obnoxious?" Meya retorted, eyebrows raised, even as her heart skipped a beat in fright. Coris played along, nodding in acceptance.

"Yes. I was fat and spoiled." His face fell and he mumbled as if ashamed. "And obnoxious. Horridly obnoxious."

Arinel was telling the truth?

Frowning in thought, Meya lay back down and snuggled close to Coris's cold chest. As his faint heartbeats drummed against her cheek, she could no longer suppress her curiosity.

"Isn't there any way to make you healthy again?" Coris glanced down and met her pleading eyes. With a soft sigh, he pulled her into his arms.

"I'm afraid there isn't. My bowels are scarred beyond repair."

His brusque explanation brought gruesome images into Meya's head, and she shuddered as she demanded in a strained whisper.

"What in the three lands happened to you?"

Coris shifted away so they were lying face-to-face. He met her apprehensive gaze for a long, silent moment, but his expression was one of careful calculation rather than hesitance. At long last, he glanced down at the Lattis coin on her necklace and fingered it,

"Have you ever heard of The Axel?"

Meya shook her head, her gaze never leaving his face as her interest piqued. And even though he himself had been the one to ask, Coris's eyebrows furrowed into a frown, as if he had expected an affirmative answer.

Ah, crap. Is it supposed to be common knowledge amongst nobility?

As a chill trickled down her spine, Meya went on staring at Coris with innocent, curious eyes, and the young lord complied with a little nod,

"It's a treasure that has been in our clan for over two hundred years, from the time our ancestor, Maxus Hadrian, was knighted. Some believe it's the reason the Wynn kings had always treated us Hadrians with respect—and at times even fear. Although, now that the Wynns had been overthrown, no-one would know the true reason why, except the incumbent Baron Hadrian. Still, that had never discouraged our rivals from trying to seize it at all costs."

Meya's hand on the pillow curled into a fist as she fought hard to rein in shivers of fear and anticipation. There was no solid proof yet, but this might be what the bandits are after. And to think that a casual conversation about Coris's frail health somehow led to it.

To think that after only one night together, the Hadrian heir was lying there, telling her everything about his clan's most coveted possession as simply and openly as if discussing the weather. What was he thinking? Was he really this stupid? Or did he trust her that much?

Arinel had told her not to underestimate Coris. He would have an ulterior motive for this, wouldn't he?

As her heart raced, Coris went on in his calm, airy voice.

"Five years ago, there was a heist. The first one since I could remember. Being the heir, and having proven myself in our war with Cristoria, I was put in charge of The Axel's protection as part of my training. I couldn't stand losing the Axel and my father's favor, so I put it in my mouth and fled down the secret passageway in my room."

Even as she panicked, Meya couldn't help gaping at the ridiculous story. Coris shrugged, as if her reaction was one that he had expected and was familiar with.

"Prodigy I may be, I was twelve. A young mind is susceptible to the venom of praise and expectation." He added with a wry grin, then continued with another shrug. "I thought I was safe. As it turned out, a couple of mercenaries had discovered the tunnel's exit and was standing guard. I was so startled I swallowed The Axel whole."

"You swallowed it?" Meya exclaimed, as her brain lit up with realization. If this Axel was what Gillian was after, it would explain why he seemed so intent on gutting his victims and searching them inside out.

"I love food. I'm used to swallowing everything in my mouth." Coris admitted nonchalantly, cocking his head. "Fortunately, some guards arrived, and I was saved in the nick of time. But some of the mercenaries managed to escape."

The air weighed heavier on Meya's head as an ominous inkling took shape in her head. She could already guess where the story was heading.

"Father wasn't taking any chances. The Axel must be taken out of me as soon as possible. For my own and The Axel's safety."

"But—it's not that big a deal, is it? You could just wait for your body to—get rid of it. Naturally."

Meya struggled to find the appropriate term. Though she had slept with Coris, had seen him in his birthday suit, had witnessed him eating, the fact that he also must expel his stuff still felt—surreal. After all, he was a nobleman, and she couldn't dispel the belief that the noble folk were supposed to be different.

"That's the catch; it wouldn't come out no matter how long we waited." Coris shook his head, his eyes now downcast.

"Surgery is banned. So our healers simply prescribed me laxatives. Stomach massages. Prayers. Everything they could think of. Nothing was effective. In the end, Father summoned a famous healer from Meriton instead. He gave me a cure that made me vomit. Over and over."

Meya's eyes widened. Coris's eyes were now just as lifeless and haunting as his low, emotionless voice.

"It was bitter. It smelled acrid—with a taste to match it. I could feel it traveling down my throat and my gullet, all the way into my bowels, then back up again. It burned like acid and fire altogether. It was a torture to even drink water. But it did what it was meant to do. The Axel came out on the third night."

Meya could hardly believe what she had heard, could barely imagine the agony he had been through. After a moment of stunned silence, she shook her head, still staring at Coris with eyes wide and unblinking.

"That was no cure." Her voice came out a mere whisper, and it surprised her.

"It wasn't." Coris agreed, his voice freezing cold as his eyes stared ahead, unseeing as the past tormented him. "The healer was renowned, and I had always been such a whiny, spoiled thing. By the time anyone realized I was in real pain, the damage was done. Turns out whoever sent the mercenaries had siezed the real healer and sent a double to weaken me and steal The Axel. He was hung, drawn and quartered, but my future died long before him."

Coris's gaze slid back to meet hers, but Meya looked away in shame, as her heart and head plummeted into turmoil. She had been so immersed in his tale that she had just realized she could be no different from that mercenary-healer. She might also end up chasing after that same Axel this boy sacrificed his life to protect.

"Still, all that was nothing compared to seeing my mother cry." Coris went on. His whispered voice shook, and Meya took his hand in hers as he shuddered at the painful memory.

"She was sobbing day and night, begging on her knees for Father to stop. But Father wasn't to be swayed. She threatened to take her life, so he had her restrained and watched."

"You could've told him it was hurting you, that...that poison." As if to distract herself from her niggling conscience, Meya argued hotly, squeezing Coris's cold hand and shaking it in frustration. "Of course he'd believe you. You're his son, for Freda's sake!"

"Ari, I may be his son and heir, but The Axel is everything to Hadrian." Coris countered, his gaze weary, but his stupid calm simply served to make her madder.

"I don't know, to this day, if Father had ever suspected the healer, if he would stop him even if I were to die, so long as The Axel wasn't recovered. No-one but Father knows what would happen to us, to our people, should The Axel fall into wrong hands. I am replaceable. I am a small price to pay. We have no choice but to trust Father's decision."

Coris sounded as if he was pleading for her to understand, yet there was a sliver of bitterness weaved into his voice that Meya did not miss, and it calmed her somewhat.

I am giving you a choice.

Somehow, those words reminded Meya of Coris's generous pact to her last night, and Meya gritted her teeth against the sheer stupidity, the utter pointlessness that wasted a life so privileged she could only dream of. Not to mention the lives of dozens of guards and peasants in Lady Arinel's entourage.

For what? A lump of something that no-one even knows for sure what it could do?

She couldn't fathom why she was so disturbed with Coris's plight when it had gotten nothing to do with her.She couldn't explain why the mere thought of stealing The Axel now repulsed her so much, when it was the only way to ensure her own survival. Coris was in storytelling mode. She should capitalize on it and press him about The Axel's new hiding place, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"All this for one stupid Axel?" She finally spoke—spat, rather. Coris had slipped on his calm, saintly mask once more, smiling wanly as he whispered in reply.

"It's alright. We still have Zier."

Those reassuring words, it seemed, was meant for himself as much as for her.

Meya could finally make sense of what he said to her yesterday. So, Coris was hoping Zier would be his replacement as heir? He was happier than anything, he said. But what was he actually thinking?

As Meya mulled over it, Coris slipped back under his blanket, signaling the end of his talk.

"I don't think I'll be able to go down for breakfast." He murmured, calling Meya's attention back to him. Stifling a yawn, he pinned her with a solemn stare, "Now, if my parents ask, we haven't consummated the marriage, understand? I'll take care of the bedsheets."

Meya raised the blanket to check. Seeing the droplets of blood spattered on the white, she couldn't help feeling both embarrassed and sad at the same time.

She knew Coris had taken her virginity, but seeing the proof with her own eyes seemed to ram the fact home, emphasizing the enormity of what she had done. It pained her that she couldn't even do it under her own name, couldn't even tell a single soul about it. And now Coris was asking her to destroy all proof of it.

As if he had sensed her uneasiness, Coris sat up and gathered her rigid body into his arms.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to take your future just yet." He murmured into her shoulder, then moved away. He retrieved something from a drawer in the bedside table, clasped her hands in his and left it on her palm.

"Don't worry. This is proof of what we did last night."

Meya let out a small gasp as the brooch glinted in the dim morning light. Its base was made of silver, shaped into a Hadrian Rose and embedded with a solitaire ruby, entwined by mistletoe vines made of peridot, with shimmering mother-of-pearl berries. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of handicraft she had ever laid eyes on. Although, she wasn't sure if she would ever have the chance to wear it in the open.

Meya had heard that sometimes the man will give his wife a trinket after their first night to thank her for becoming his, and as proof of the consummation. At least, Coris seemed to appreciate her efforts to pleasure him last night, and she was grateful for the gift.

"Thank you, Lord Coris."

Meya whispered, her hands trembling. Coris gave her a slow, deep kiss, before sinking back down to the bed's embrace. Beaming her a bleary smile, he closed his eyes and was out cold within seconds, his bare chest rising and falling as if to a steady, imaginary beat, leaving Meya alone in the harsh reality that had begun creeping back to engulf her.

So, what now?