Myranda contemplated about a march right to Metas the next morning, but she also didn't want to look desperate. The only thing that forced her to move forward was that she was going in order to talk on behalf of her brother.
Surely if he had nothing to do with it, then he wouldn't mind if she dropped in to ask. For now though, she was very suspicious of the coincidence.
She didn't bother to dress up too much this time, as she planned to meet in their native forms in hopes to meet more of his eye level rather than look up to his tall height as a mortal - it was definitely a power thing.
Like before, she left rather early and made her way to the same spot as last time - however, he wasn't there when she arrived. Myranda wasn't sure if he had already come and gone yet, so she checked around for any paw prints and found a trail that smelled faintly of the Prince.
She had already missed him.
Damn it.
That was fine. She was an excellent tracker, and as far as she was concerned, he owed her answers to a problem that she honestly wasn't even sure stemmed from him.
Myranda sniffed at the ground and studied the prints and how wide they were apart to determine how fast he must have been going. The answer? Very fast. Not enough to be a simple look-around kind of run, but the one you use when you're surprised or scared.
Was he in trouble? Part of her was terrified that he was hurt, and the other half didn't care because why would she concern herself about some fancy pants royal?
It apparently didn't matter because her feet carried her anyway as though they were under a trance to do so. It was like the Moon Goddess herself had put Myranda on a magic leash and dragged her to where she was supposed to be.
Where she didn't think she belonged.
He couldn't be too far now that his scent had picked up in her nose much stronger, and to her relief (wait, no - she wasn't relieved - that was just a fluke...right?) No. She was horrified to find that she was honestly comforted to see him alive and well as he drank from the small stream they had passed over yesterday.
When his head came up and saw her beautiful coat, his face and eyes emitted a smile that glowed of pure happiness. "Has my mate come to hunt me, now? Is this a new game?" He wished aloud with curiosity. Unlike her, he wasn't afraid to be hurt, which in her eyes made him either crazy or exceedingly brave.
Right now it was definitely on the crazy end. If his parents were so bad, then how could he possibly be this happy and this kind? It didn't fit, and it didn't feel right. However, his words had calmed all the steam she had gathered up and was ready to release. How could she be mad at that face and that voice?
'Curse you goddess!' She sneered in her head.
"No - again, you wish" Myranda played off her frustration terribly, but Metas played along.
"What have I done then to be granted your presence? Don't tell me you've already changed your mind," he hoped and panted with excitement at the mere thought of another run with her.
"I am here because my brother was demoted for following your orders the other night. Do you know anything about that?" She interrogated him as though he knew the answer already.
"What? Why would I do such a thing? It must have been on my father's orders, or General may have just been having bad day. I can talk to Silas about it, he has more sway with my father than I do..." Metas sounded hurt and disappointed when he admitted those words out loud.
Myranda was absolutely baffled, and her jaw dropped. "...Wait, my sister's mate Silas? Captain--er..Lieutenant General Silas? Syrana's Silas?"
"You didn't know?" He wondered and tilted his head to the side and approached her carefully and slowly to show her subservience.
"No. Who would tell me any of that? I'm a baker. A Merchant. What good am I to anyone?" Myranda spilled out before she could even stop herself because she was so mad, and now surprised and a little angry her sister hadn't mentioned such a thing.
"I figured your sister....never mind. Silas is favored by my parents - by everyone up in caves. They keep saying if they could, they'd give him the crown. It's not nice, but doesn't stop me from doing my duties and feeling proud of our kingdom" Metas spoke with a strong tone, but she heard the need for approval behind each syllable.
"You're kidding me, right?" Myranda doubted, and grew with agitation on the entire matter.
"...No..?" he urged more than answered as he noted her anger. "It's a well known fact..." he added with hesitation. "If they had the power, they would have replaced me, but they can't. Much like most royal families, old magic doesn't work unless you have a line to one of the 'Firsts' (Firsts were known as the founding creatures for each bloodline of what we humans call mythical monsters). I witnessed them letting him try to open the royal vault, but he couldn't. It's the only reason I'm still where I am," Metas explained and felt a bit better having been so open with her.
"If that's all true, then how are you so happy? My parents were terrible, too - but you don't see me smiling like it's nothing," Myranda accused him with both suspicion, but also curiosity. How would one stay so happy when their lives were so empty?
"Would you rather go after the rabbit with the limp, or the one who looks fast?" He posed as an answer firmly.
"Got it," she responded with a nod.
"What made me happy was finally meeting you. I felt like I had way out - I still do despite your distrust of me. Being strong sometimes means not letting people steal your happiness away. When they think you are immune to their cruelty, they eventually run out of ways to try and torture you. At some point, just like long chase, they get tired and give up for easier target." He sat down and looked into her gold and 'white' eyes with sincerity.
'Wow, he's... actually smart,' she thought with pleasant surprise.
"I promise you, Myranda; I had nothing to do with your brother being punished. I can't do anything about it, either."
After a moment he added, "wow, that was hard to say out loud..." as though he were relieved.
"I had no idea, Metas. I thought you were loved and all that. You always looked happy from afar," she said with shame in her voice.
"Don't apologize to me, please. Is good to know I can act well. If I get dethroned, I'm thinking about being actor for all the corpses in the Silver Mines," he joked with a grin, but she didn't look impressed.
"That's not funny. I hate Silas, he'd be a terrible leader. I can't believe Syrana has been hiding this from me...we never keep secrets, its a sibling code. I mean, that's why Jyriah told me about it before I found out. Who else has been lying to me?" She lamented and drooped her head down.
"Listen, if you don't trust me, I'll gladly do anything to prove to you I am not lying. I have no reason to do anything to your brother, especially because he's your brother. I'd never hurt you, my mate - not even by proxy," Metas offered gently and moved just a little closer in hopes he could just boop her nose with his.
"Silas would never hurt my sister directly, or by proxy either. Who do you think I am going to believe? He's my pack-brother - and you're... well, nothing to me," Myranda responded with far too much venom than she had intended.
The Prince looked at her with defeat and true hurt. He had the same hollow look in his eyes that she did every time she glanced into a mirror.... and it was her fault.
'Oh no...what have I done? Now I'm the mean one. Why did you just do that, Myra! Too far, that was too far - and you're really a bitch now, and you're going to apologize right this second or I swear I'm dunking myself in that cold river' she scolded herself inwardly.
"Metas, I'm sorry - I didn't mean those words as cruelly as I said them..." she tumbled out quickly with embarrassment and guilt.
"...but you still meant them," he retorted flatly and stood to turn his back on her. "I've given you my answer. You don't have to believe me, but please excuse me as I go for scouting run. I am sorry about your brother's punishment, Myranda." Metas didn't bother to turn around. She truly had hurt him - and had rejected his response without even a second thought.
No one wanted to be rejected by their mate in any capacity.
"Metas, please wait -" she called after him, but it was too late as he ran off.
If Myranda thought she felt lonely before, then she had no idea what the true, actual heartache of deep seclusion was until this moment. Now it was she who wanted to hunt him - but this time for penance, because sometimes being strong meant you had to apologize and finally admit you were wrong.