A Tale of Crowns and Stars

Agendas & Truths

 Trust no one. Everyone has an agenda.

The words in Cyra's mind echoed relentlessly. She wove her way through the crowd gathered in the large outdoor space, the lanterns dimly lighting every attendee's face, looking for Mirabel in the near darkness.

Trust no one.

In the forefront of her mind, she held the image of Armantha, her short pixie cut, and cat-like brown eyes never too far away; Cyra had to admit, she was afraid. Whether it was what Armantha could do or what she would do, Cyra couldn't tell. But she did know the sharp-witted woman would drive a spear through her heart with words when she got the chance.

Music echoed in the courtyard, the skilled musicians playing a slow tune that the guests could talk over as they milled about. A few familiar faces jumped out at Cyra from the crowd: a pregnant Princess Odette, the friendly ambassador from the West, and Prince Avisi, but no Armantha. As the Princess passed by a group of chittering ladies-in-waiting, she picked up a thread of gossip:

They say Armantha was apprehended an hour ago. She was smuggling in... unmentionables." Cyra sighed, relaxing. So, Armantha wouldn't make it after all. The relief caught her by surprise, draining her of her strength. Cyra sat in a chair off to the side of the party, exhaling deeply as she crossed her legs underneath the long royal blue and gold lace gown. Her brown hair, pinned up and out of her face, begged for release from the stabbing hairpins, but she wouldn't undo her hair quite yet. Not until the dancing commenced.

A hush ran across the crowd, and Cyra turned to watch Omar descend down the steps, clothed in a long red coat. The tunic he wore underneath - which clung to his muscles like so long ago - was an off white color, and his brown Persian boots gleamed in the lantern light, freshly polished. The lack of fanfare was not unusual because tonight it would be reserved for Halewijn, who appeared moments later.

Cyra knew her place would be at his side when he finished walking down the portico steps, but the vision of the man she would be wed to took her breath away. Halewijn - clothed in white, gold, and red - stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for the fanfare to finish. His golden eyes roamed over the crowd, looking... searching, and when they landed upon Cyra, who sat in her chair still, his lips twitched up in a small smile before he began his descent. The High Prince's golden crown caught the light, making something akin to a halo around his curly brown hair, and the golden necklace he wore boasted the three symbols of Oskurga: An odal, uruz, and ansur rune. Altogether, they represented the five courts' heritage, power, and gods, something Halewijn knew all about and would protect during his potential reign as High King. The fact that he wore the necklace tonight meant Omar had given it to him, and this fact did not pass by Cyra lightly.

Cyra stood as Hal took his final steps down to the courtyard, joining him by looping her arm around his extended one. The crowd clapped for Halewijn happily, and he smiled, slightly bowing his head at the praise. A servant quickly offered the two drinks for the toast, and Omar stood beside them to deliver it.

"A toast to my son, who has returned with a kingdom in tow: his Eastern bride, Cyra. Let us drink to his health, their wealth, and the union between the two Courts. Skål!"

"Skål!" The crowd tossed their drinks back, as did Omar and Halewijn. Only Cyra tossed her mead behind her, landing in the courtyard's grass, which, thankfully, no one noticed. When he finished, Halewijn pulled her close to him, leaning down for a passionate display of affection in front of the attendees. Cyra obliged, tasting the mead on his tongue as he kissed her deeply. From behind Hal, Cyra could hear Omar's laughter and his notation of the High Prince's fondness for her.

"I've never seen a couple more in love!" The crowd also echoed the sentiment, which played to Cyra and Hal's advantage. They would make the night their second engagement party, drawing the attention of those who sought to view the couple as a pair of star-crossed lovers and not two kingdoms merging for political reasons. It was simple to play the tune of two lovers fated to meet, only to become the shining beacon of love in all of the land. The idea that her relationship would be held on a pedestal made Cyra sick, but the cause was more than worthy. If it meant she would assist in removing the throne from under Omar, she would be happy to put up the ruse for Halewijn.