A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Whirlpools & Portraits

      The soft lapping sounds of running water drew Cyra's attention as the carriage slowed to a standstill. Before she could step out and into the grass to stretch her legs, she glanced out of the window and watched Halewijn take massive strides up the hill.

      "Wait for him to come to get you," Bilka advised, her grin sly and all-too-telling. With impatience, she waited for Halewijn to make his appearance, fidgeting with the gloves in her lap while waiting. Not a moment later, he opened the door, smiling as he exhaled little puffs of air.

      "Are you ready for a short stroll, Princess?" It took all Cyra had not to huff in exasperation as she exited the cramped behemoth, gently holding onto Hal's hand as he led her down the short step and into the grass.

      "How has your ride been?" She inquired, looking back at the twins who were shoving each other playfully before returning her eyes to him.

      "The twins are very curious. They've asked quite a few personal questions."

      "That's not unheard of. At least you're not at their mercy on the rack." Cyra retorted, tilting her head to the side for a moment.

      "This sure feels like an interrogation," Halewijn laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand and then asking, "What about your ride? Did I stir up any gossip when I left you this morning?" So he knew.

      "You always do, and it's always the good kind." The Princess teased, and the High Prince squeezed her hand.

      "I could say the same about you, you know."

      "I wouldn't believe you." Cyra stepped over a pile of dead leaves as they walked along the forest, straying only a little ways away from the other travelers.

      "And why is that?" Halewijn inquired, his brows furrowing. "Do you not think you are worthy of people talking about you when you are not present?"

      "It's well known all they talk about is either Gunnar or you when it comes to any mention of my name."

       "I wouldn't be so sure of tha--" Halewijn began, but Cyra stopped him with a hand.

        "Either way, it doesn't matter." She quipped. "I just want the people I know and trust to stand up for me when the time comes." Halewijn stopped walking but didn't let go of her hand, cocking his head at her.

       "Do you trust me?" Cyra blinked at him, taking in his features. His face was grave, the ordinarily jovial smile beneath his brown mustache gone. Hal's golden eyes scanned her from head to toe before they snapped back up to her face, still deadly serious.

      "Of course I do... What reason would I have not to trust you?" The dagger grew hot against her thigh at the half-lie. Why was she hiding so much from him at a time like this? Wasn't she supposed to be transparent with the man she schemed to kill for?

      "You tell me." Cyra knew it was impossible, but the dagger felt like it hummed against her leg - trying to call attention to itself as it sang out its presence between them. If you tell him about me, you'll feel less guilty. She crossed her left leg in front of it as if to silence its low, graven voice in her mind.

      "I do trust you, Hal." At the sound of his nickname, he relaxed his tensed shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "Do you trust me?" She breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

      "I trust you. There's no question about it." He replied before their lips met. Cyra felt the guilt eating her alive: the garden, the dagger, Gunnar - all of it swirled inside of her like an endless whirlpool of secrets as Halewijn pressed himself against her and made her head spin.