A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Gods & A Limp

      A barely perceptible limp.

      That was Cyra's new accessory. If anyone stared hard enough, they could see the little half-step she had to take to prevent the wound in her leg from getting any worse. The stitches in her thigh were the only things that reminded her of her limp when she awoke. In her dreams, she ran - with lightning speed - towards the endless dark she knew Gunnar's specter hid in. But the darkness was unyielding, fleeing from her pursuit.

     "No riding, no running, no dancing, no skipping, no rolling around in your bed, and absolutely no venturing out into the woods." The list of no's seemed to grow as the day of the engagement party drew near. Halewijn assisted her when he could -which only brought them closer- and he forgot all about his task to see if there was any other way to stop Omar from seeking to destroy the both of them. The thought of another body to bury only sickened Cyra, even though his death would be more than deserved. Wyndemere had not broken the captured man, just as Halewijn had predicted. However, he had not killed him. Instead, he left the man to think about his offer of a pardon while his wounds were still fresh. The leader of the royal guard wouldn't let him live for much longer, though.

      Today, she sat among the trees and the wind, reading a book and listening to Alorha softly play a tagelharpa. Mirabel opted to dance around in the grass, performing for some unseen courtiers, and most certainly not Alorha or Cyra. Earlier this morning, Halewijn earned his first headache of the season - courtesy of her mother - and upon falling ill, he sent word to Cyra, apologizing for his absence. Cyra sent back her good wishes, mentioning she would be stopping by to check on him. She checked the sky before looking back down at her book. It indeed hadn't struck noon yet, which is when she promised herself she would venture into his chamber to check on his condition.

      A part of her knew she would be walking into the room with hopes that he had recovered and would be attending dinner with her, but the other part of her knew she could very well leave his chambers having found him in no better condition than when he went in. This very thought propelled her to her feet as she closed her book, steadying herself on her left leg. Alorha looked up from his tagelharpa, and Mirabel stopped dancing, throwing a pout in his direction, but then rushed to Cyra's side as she made her way back to the palace.

      "No, no. Stay here. I will be fine on my own." She shook off the lady-in-waiting and royal guard, limping ever so slightly on her way to the steps of the main foyer. The Princess looked up the Grand Staircase, sighing as she gripped the railing and ascended, taking each step with care. The wood beneath her feet did not give way, and the only sound came from her slipper on the maroon carpet. Grunting, she pulled herself up to another step. The pain in her leg became a dull ache, increasing from the slight discomfort it was before.

      By the time she ascended half of the staircase, she could feel the sweat on her brow. Looking forward, she saw the stairs extend up, up, up, and her labored breath hitched. Who was she kidding? A staircase would best her today. Who would she be against Omar if a limp caused her to yield to a flight of stairs?

      As she slumped against the gold railing, she gazed at the glass chandelier above her head. The massive crystal thing - a gift from High King Duchaine to her great grandmother - towered above her, almost as if it were daring to crush the tiny Princess below. It shone brightly in the sunlight streaming in from the main windows, throwing little rainbows around the foyer. Cyra closed her eyes, exhaling as her body melted into the staircase.

      "Get up, Cyra." The gentle voice sent shockwaves through her body, and she jolted up, looking around her to find the person who had spoken. But no one was there with her. Adrenaline coursed through her as she considered her the idea that her exhaustion caused a hallucination, but it didn't matter in the end. She stood up and began to move again, finding her leg not as much of a hindrance as before. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she found her way through the maze of hallways to Halewijn's room. She held her fist up to knock on the door but hesitated, thinking about what she would say. Would she ask how he was feeling? Maybe just sit next to him and hope he would have the strength to talk for a little while?