A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Bands & Chains

With a jolt, Cyra felt all of her senses return to her body in a rush. Hiccuping, she tried to catch her bearings, but her vision was slow to adjust in the dim light of the room. Where am I? She could feel the sheets tucked in around her, the slight chill rolling across her skin, a semi-hard surface underneath her back, and her hair... in a braid. Cyra could hear the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth, the wind at the window panes, and quiet breathing very close to her. How long have I been out?

There was a sweet smell of rose petals and a headier scent she couldn't identify, but it didn't alarm her. Her sight returned slowly, but not entirely upon her as she tasted the tang of something bitter in her mouth. The taste of the ambrosia hadn't entirely gone away. Fuck you, Ghiana, she thought as she blinked furiously. Shapes took on hard edges and soft curves, and Cyra could finally see in the darkroom. Sitting up, she looked at Halewijn, who stared back at her quietly, his mother's book laying open in his lap. He blinked, still staring at her without speaking, and Cyra opened her mouth to speak.

"H-how long have I been out?" She croaked out, her throat drier than she imagined possible.

Hal's shoulders slumped, and he exhaled deeply, his head hanging low. "Oh, thank the gods, you're back. I wasn't sure if Ghiana still had control of you or not."

"I..."

"You've been gone for a while," Hal began, shutting the book firmly. "Ghiana had you, hostage, until about an hour ago when you collapsed after leading a round of feverish dancing." His added sigh disheartened Cyra, and she looked down, noticing the change of clothes from a bloody dress to a simple silk nightgown. She wiggled her fingers and toes, grateful for the return of the sensation. A thought of what the goddess might have done flitted across her mind, and for a moment, she panicked, feeling her heart hammer in her chest.

"Did I embarrass you?" She whispered, and Hal's head snapped up. He held his hands out to stop her, murmuring,

"No, no, no. You were fine, my love. I had to reel Ghiana in a couple of times, but you didn't do anything to embarrass yourself or me."

"Reel her in?" Halewijn shook his head, dismissing her question, and placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly squeezing.

"It doesn't matter now. I'm just glad you're back to being yourself." He kneaded the muscle on her shoulder tenderly, and Cyra exhaled deeply, feeling the release of tension as she closed her eyes. Halewijn continued to massage her shoulders with care, shifting closer so that he could place a small kiss on the nape of her neck. "I'm astounded that you're not exhausted," he whispered, breathing against the back of her neck. "You danced quite a lot."

"With only you, I hope," Cyra whispered, and Halewijn chuckled low in his chest, the sound comforting Cyra even further.

"Oh, you - well, Ghiana, really - could not keep her hands off of me for a moment. To say that I was also being held hostage would be accurate, I think." The thought of the goddess lusting after her husband heated Cyra from the neck up, but Halewijn pressed another kiss to her neck. "Fret not; you're the only one that can seduce me successfully, little bird."

"How late is it?" She inquired, looking over her shoulder at the High Prince.

"It's only been nighttime for a few hours. We are not near midnight yet." Thoughts of completing her first duty as a wife came to mind, and she twisted to face Halewijn, eyeing him carefully.

"Should we—"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He quickly interrupted. Cyra took stock of the situation, looking around the room to find her answer. But Halewijn took her chin in his thumb and forefinger, peering into her eyes with care. "We should rest," he finally admitted. "We have a tough day ahead of us."