A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Shame & Sacrifices

     Parading about the Grand Hall on Hal's arm was all Cyra could manage, meeting every person who had chosen to attend the engagement party with a smile and an excited tone. To anyone outside of the trio - her, Halewijn, and Omar - it would seem that the unannounced arrival had been a simple misunderstanding. The High King and his son had been reunited gloriously, and all was right with the world again.

       To the three royals, however, the precarious dance they wove around the room was obvious. The High Prince never left the Princess's side, the High King's eyes never left the pair for more than a moment, and the Princess never let her gaze drift towards the High King. The dancing music had continued all the while, never once pausing, and despite knowing that danger stood among them, Alorha and Wyndemere played on. When Cyra looked at the twins, she found Alorha's gentle eyes on her and Halewijn, while Wyndemere kept his enraged gaze on Omar, both of them keeping tabs on the situation. Cyra turned back to the conversation Hal held with an ambassador from the West, his clothing appropriately colored like the expansive sands of their coast.

        "...I told the King that we should send a nice gift for the wedding, and he pulls out this incredible list of items to choose from! I was thunderstruck, to say the least." Halewijn echoed his astonishment, enrapt in the ambassador's tale. He squeezed Cyra's hand after a short lapse, making her chuckle and reply,

      "What did he - or you - pick?"

       "I haven't been able to decide. I wanted to see both of you in person before I chose the gift. You two strike me as a beautiful and loving pair, however. The way you danced earlier sent chills up my spine," The young man recounted brightly.

      "I had to teach her, but Cyra is a swift learner. I must say she makes me look perfect!" They laughed, and Cyra tried to make hers sound convincing for Halewijn's sake. Omar still circled about the room like a vulture, and there seemed to be no end in sight for the game, at least not yet.

        "Ambassador Fraire, we must see the other guests, but it was a pleasure to speak with you again."

       "I agree!" The ambassador began. "The Western King sends his regards and invites you both to come and spend some time with his family. Princess Maripessa would be delighted to have you as a playmate again."

       "Tell them it would be my honor."

       As Halewijn led Cyra to the other people waiting to make their acquaintance, she looked around the room to see where Omar stood. Despite her feverish searching, she couldn't find him among the heads in the crowd, and her anxiety spiked. Where had he gone? Had he trapped another unwilling victim in his clutches?

      "My son," The voice behind her startled her so badly that she let out a yelp, causing Halewijn to spin around and pull her behind him, hiding her with his coat. The two men stood a hand's width apart, meeting each other's steely-eyed gaze. "I wanted to know if I could steal your fiancee away for a dance." 

      "No." Halewijn replied firmly, and at this, the High King frowned.

       "You will not let your father dance with his future daughter-in-law?" There was caution in Omar's tone, a challenge, and a warning.

       "Never." Halewijn snarled, baring his teeth. Those who could hear the exchange held their conversations and their breath in anticipation. "You will never put your hands on her again." Eyes turned to Cyra in surprise and confusion, then eyes snapped to Omar, awaiting his reply. Cyra clung to Hal's coat, gripping the fabric in her hands tightly as she shook in fear while Omar noticed the looks. His eyes slid to his son in astonishment, the daring act striking him at his core. The fact that Halewijn had dared to do it in public shocked him the most and inspired a look of dismissal.