A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Ambassadors & Turncoats

The taste of bile in Cyra's mouth slowly brought her back to the present moment, the terrors ending mid-scene. Coming-to in the dimly lit room was difficult as she attempted to come to a seated position on the floor. Alorha and Wyndemere perked up at the sight of her sitting up slowly, and in an instant, she felt the gentle support of two firm hands. When Cyra realized it was Hal, she let her shoulders slump a little and exhaled, sighing in the moment of peace.

"How do you feel?"

The question didn't translate well in her brain as she tried to distinguish her terrors from reality, slowly regaining her train of coherent and rational thought. Alorha didn't repeat his question and instead looked to Halewijn, who smoothed a hand down her back. Cyra shivered at the touch, pulling her knees into her chest underneath the blue dress and resting a cheek on her kneecaps. As Cyra inhaled the smells around the room, no one spoke; they allowed themselves a few much-needed moments of silence. Halewijn was the first to voice his thoughts when the moment was over.

"The feast has been canceled for the night." Cyra looked up at him in confusion, then her face smoothed out into understanding just as quickly.

"It's my fault, isn't it?" No one said anything. "I'm so sorry, Halewijn. This was an opportunity for you to prove to your father that-"

"No. This was the perfect opportunity for us to gather our bearings and prepare for the upcoming month. If these terrors are happening more often, then we need to come up with a plan." Hal looked at Mirabel, who had been eerily silent the entire time. "Mirabel, I'm going to need your help with this. You know everything and everyone, and that will come in handy very soon."

~~~~~~

The next morning, the group traveled down the stairs, having come up with two plans: one for the terrors and another for their survival. Wyndemere and Alorha departed from the other three at the bottom of the staircase, meeting with the other members of the Eastern Royal Guard before breakfast. Cyra, Halewijn, and Mirabel took a different route, heading straight for the dining hall. When they passed the doors to the kitchen, Mirabel went inside, cheerfully greeting and introducing herself to the staff within.

Finally, Halewijn and Cyra found themselves in the dining hall, taking their places in pre-arranged seats across from each other. The dining hall - a relic from the kings of old - was covered in large portraits of former High Kings, High Queens, and their families. The light blue paint behind the images reminded Cyra of the sky, despite it being a deep grey outside, and the room boasted four large windows, each covered in beautiful, gold curtains. This visage was a stark contrast to the feeling Cyra felt when at the High Court, which felt stifling and oppressive. But the dining room was calming and ornate, a reprieve from the usually overbearing barn red and solid gold visage of the High Court.

The table was covered in a white tablecloth, and eight white suede seats were pushed in around the long table. A lavish chair sat at the head of the table, obviously for Omar, but he was nowhere to be found. Servants swooped in with meats and bread anyway, allowing Halewijn and Cyra to begin eating off of golden plates before their host arrived. While they ate, Cyra went over the plan in her mind again.

Halewijn had orchestrated the entire thing, with short additions from the twins at times. "We should gather support from the other four kingdoms for my claim to the throne when the time comes."

"The Southern Court will be quick to support, as well as the Eastern Court," Cyra interjected, knowing that any challenge by a legitimate and rightful heir would be immediately bolstered by the two kingdoms.

"What about the North and the West?" Halewijn thought aloud, rubbing his face.

"The Western kingdom seems to adore you, but the idea of you as a ruler might be difficult for them to grasp. It would take some time to convince them of your abilities. The North," Cyra paused, looking at Wyndemere with a grimace, who returned her look immediately. "The North might not be so easy."