A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Cold Endings

Cold. The shackles against her skin were cold. The cell was cold. Her heart was cold.

The torchlight just outside of Cyra's cell cast her hunched shadow on the walls, making her look even as pitiful as she felt. The freezing floor of the cell scratched the sides of Cyra's feet as she rubbed them together for some semblance of warmth while the shackles on her arms jangled angrily. The outcome of the day had startled her but only up to a point.

Who was she kidding? This had been her fate all along. She knew it when Leonel sat here, in her same spot, not too long ago. Even though she had attempted to kill Omar and failed, she knew these events would occur the same way they happened with Gunnar. The sinking feeling never went away, Cyra realized. It just got duller with time.

The ending of the thought accompanied the screeching of the outer door to her jail cell, and Cyra's head shot up to see who had come to visit. First, she listened to the sound of the measured strides against the floor, which meant it wasn't Omar. Several people could be the first to visit, but she imagined the twins or Mirabel would want to take that chance. But the lack of rushing meant it wasn't Mirabel either.

"Inside," the guard at the door grunted, and Cyra could almost picture him jerking a thumb at the inner door. More measured strides.

The light that spilled in with the open door almost blinded Cyra, causing her to look away from the entrance hurriedly.

"You look like shit."

The disgusted voice belonged to none other than Armantha. As the inner door shut with finality, Cyra eyed the woman carefully. When neither of them could find the words that needed to be said, Armantha inhaled and leaned on the cell's bars.

"I don't understand why you didn't just follow the fucking plan," The lady began, sighing out of her nose. "We had it all set up for a nice little coup d'etat. But instead, you pull a coup de main, and we're all left to clean up after your mess." Armantha groaned loudly, wiping her hands across her face. "The twins aren't speaking. Mirabel and your family have disappeared like I knew they would. Eres and Idria fled, too! Everyone did their part except for you."

"I didn't mean —"

"I don't want to hear your stupid excuses, Cyra." The woman growled, slamming a hand on the bars. "You had the opportunity to seal this for all of us, and now..." In the dim light, Cyra swore she saw Armantha drop a tear before sighing deeply. "How would Gunnar feel about this if he was here?"

"Don't bring him into this," Cyra croaked, pointing a weak finger at the woman. "He has nothing to do with what happened today."

"He has everything to do with what happened today! Gunnar, Markus, Halewijn, Tamar, and who knows who else has everything to do with this! We had the chance to right this wrong." The accusation hung heavily on Cyra's shoulders. She was the reason the plan went haywire. There was no one else to blame except herself. "You might as well have brought them all back from the dead and then handed them over to Omar again, as far as I'm concerned." Armantha pushed off of the bars and took a few steps back, glaring at Cyra. "I trusted you." She whispered, then turned away, heading for the door.

"Where will you go?" Cyra wondered, feeling her bones shake beneath her dress.

"I'm not going anywhere," Armantha stated, hand on the door. "I'm staying right here. It's not like I have anywhere to run to." With that, the woman opened the door and walked out, leaving the room even colder than it was when she entered.

Tears coursed down Cyra's cheeks at the realization that she had foiled her own plan in her haste to save the day, but all Halewijn wanted was for Cyra to save herself. She fell asleep between crying spells with her head on her propped-up arms, lying still on the freezing floor.