Starting from the beginning, or what she thought was the beginning, Cyra studied the portraits of the Vialyan monarchs. She would do anything that would take her mind off her father. The first was of a tan woman, hardened by tragedy and war. Everyone knew of Keturah. She had been the end of her line, and her clear distinctive features separated her from all the other portraits of the next dynasty. Her olive tan skin gave way to rulers whose skin became increasingly ruddy and then to paler whites and creams. Different eye colors filtered through the monarchs, but every monarch after Keturah bore similarities to the one before, light brown hair being a common trait among them.
That is, every monarch was clearly of the same Vialyan royal bloodline except for the one before Queen Regan. Continue reading
Soray had been satisfied with her explanation, and quickly fell asleep. Cyra, however, had tossed and turned unable to find any peace. She glanced out the window to see it was midnight. She always was a bit of a night owl. Continue reading
Thankfully, Soray and Cyra saw nothing of Prince Vitalis their second day in Elista. Soray happily spent the day exploring the castle and the town with Croesus. Cyra and Mihrab stuck to their sides, but the only vaguely interesting part of it was Soray’s chatter about the feast. Soray and Coresus also discussed other important subjects, but Cyra didn’t pay attention. She divide her focus between playing with her necklace, wondering what Ano was doing, avoiding any attempt of Soray’s to draw her into a conversation about the previous night, and keeping an eye out just in case Prince Vitalis made an appearance. Continue reading
Once Soray’s luggage arrived, their conversation changed and carried a more lighthearted air. Soray tried on several of her elegant dresses before making her choice. Cyra was of little help because she had been laughing, telling Soray she looked lovely in all of them, and it was true. Continue reading