Princess Cyra is recovering from a failed engagement, a lack of friends, and possibly inheriting a kingdom when she meets High Prince Halewijn, who is set on making her his bride. When it is revealed to her that he is actually her assailant's son, t...
Warm air breezed past Cyra's face as she basked in the warmth of the solarium. With an open book in her lap and Mirabel chatting with Idria, Cyra continued to think about her situation. There was very little she could do to fix anything with a day until the wedding, but there were minor issues here and there that could be addressed with minimal effort. No expense would be spared so that she could enjoy her last day as a single woman in peace.
"Do you think you'll—" The doors to the solarium flew open, cutting Mirabel off mid-sentence.
"Excuse me, Your Highness," A footman bowed politely, and Cyra waved her hand.
"Continue."
"Your presence is requested in the High Council chambers." Mirabel and Idria frowned at the request, but the lady-in-waiting extended her hand for Cyra to deposit her book.
"Mark my place at page forty-nine," Cyra called out, dusting her green silk skirts off before walking out with the footman.
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The walk to the High Council chambers felt long and arduous. Winding marble staircases, bricked-in windows, and a massive set of gold-colored wood doors stood between Cyra and the other members of the High Council. All five courts were gathered around a long war table in silence, and the footman gracefully bowed to the group before shutting the golden door with care.
Twenty pairs of eyes focused in on the Princess, who quickly found her place in an empty armchair next to Halewijn. While most of the familiar faces smiled, only Omar and Hannah did not; their gazes focused on her face more intently and without kindness. However, Cyra paid them no mind, crossing her hands in her lap before waiting for someone to begin to speak.
"As you all are fully aware, my son's wedding will take place tomorrow. I have gathered you all here to affirm the marriage license and perhaps speak freely on the logistics of the marriage while we are still able." Omar looked around the table at the other royals as he spoke, fixing each of them - except Cyra and Halewijn - with his stern, golden gaze. No one spoke immediately, their eyes roving across each other's or around the bright room to avoid being called upon. Cyra looked to her mother, who gave her a quick smile and returned her eyes back to Omar afterward, but no one else caught her gaze.
"I shall speak, then," Smyrna offered, standing up from her cushioned seat. "I am most certainly pleased that Cyra has found such a smart, capable, and devoted husband to accompany her. Ever since we lost Gunnar, I wasn't sure she would ever re-engage herself." Her mother and father nodded, affirming the depth of the truth shared. "But she and Halewijn make such a stunning and affectionate pair that I am glad everything is as it should be." Hums of agreement echoed around the table.
"I should go ahead and say how proud I am," Bilka beamed, looking at Halewijn and Cyra. "There have been many, many things we have endured. But you stand tall, Cyra, and with Halewijn beside you, nothing and no one can stop you. I am infinitely proud of who you have become and all that you will be." Cyra smiled at her mother, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Halewijn took Cyra's hand in his, kissing it tenderly and holding it to his chest.
