Miraric

28| Battle of Star and Moon.

Edric's world came to a halt.

All the strength that he'd stored within himself since the last seven years started to vanish, all the words of confidence that he had been whispering to himself flowed away with the air, when his eyes landed on his forsaken moon, sitting there, as pale as the moon, eyes still as grey as the skies and her hair like the lilies.

No, not now. She was not suppose to be here -- not now, not when he was so close to the throne, not when he was standing just before Mèrikh, about to introduce himself, not now.

Edric had planned so much: to confront Miranda one last time, to ask her why she betrayed him, to wait for her forgiveness and then to not forgive her at all, to tell her that he would spare no mercy to her family, to tell her that she had wanted him dead but he came back stronger than ever, to tell her that he would take back what was his and she wouldn't be able to stop him -- no body would be able to stop him, not his moon, nor the gods.

But he was able to do no such thing.

He only stared at her, his heart suddenly returning to the state it was in seven years ago, beating quick whenever it noticed a glimpse of her. Edric tried his best to avert his gaze, to look at the man sitting on the throne, but he only noticed Miranda's sunken cheeks, the dark circles beneath her enchanting eyes, her dry lips that opened and then pursed, her skinny hands that reached her mouth seeing him. He noticed how her pupils dilated and she almost stood up but then realisation flashed across her face and she remained firm in her seat, her gaze not leaving him for once.

Edric's knees weakened, his heart screaming at him, telling him to walk to the dais, hold her and ask her what happened, why she was in that state, what her father did to her. His feet began to move, walking towards the dais when he heard the voice -- the voice of the man who burned his father alive and he was finally able to come to his sense.

"Your king is here, boy," Mèrikh said, his voice deeper than Edric remembered. "Stop ogling my daughter." Edric finally looked at the usurper: his eyes light as fog but still so hollow, his lashes longer than normal people, long straight white hair reaching down his chest, his hand placed on his face with a bored expression.

Edric resisted himself from cursing at him as he bowed, his head hanging low. "Forgive my impertinence towards the princess, Your Majesty and you as well," he raised his head, looking straight at him as Mèrikh moved his hand away, now placing them at the handle of throne, his thick brows frowned.

"Your face. . . " Mèrikh mumbled but the throne room was so quiet that even a drop of a feather could be heard crystal clear. "It looks familiar. Have I seen you before?"

Edric was prepared for this question. "I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," he gave a small apologetic smile. "This is my first time at the capital."

Mèrikh wasn't convinced but he wouldn't say anything, Edric knew that. "Very well, then. I'm certain you know why you are here? The palace is in an uproar to know about this Power Holder who is equal to an Ezèrian. Kael has quite set a reputation for you already, before I even hired you," Mèrikh had a mocking smile plastered on his face as he said that, as if he was seconds away from bursting out laughing.

"I'm not aware of what the advisor has said, Your Majesty but I can assure you, that whatever he said, I will do better than that," he replied, his voice stern and lacking fear. Edric was returning to himself, and he was relieved of that fact because in that moment, being in his right state of mind was the most important thing and he wouldn't get distracted -- at any cost.

"You sure have a lot of confidence for a renéi Possessor, don't you? Even though you are currently in a room surrounded by nothing but Ezérian," Mérikh smirked, placing his hand on his cheek.