Forced Into Tyranny

9: Perjury

Thevalon Castle,
Weald of Valcum.

          Lyra's fingers tapped at the bark of a tree in rapid staccato. Teeth gnashing, heart sinking, bowels moving, she paced about the thickest parts of Valcum, cursing her decision to go to Rusthelm. She had arrived court a mere hour ago. However, the baneful sight of blood and sweat, the maddening howls of pain and victory, and the dreadful feeling of despair continued to dawdle.
          Clutching her abdomen, she sank to the ground, her empty stomach protesting as if it would expel her very intestines. The prolonged anger had left her too busy to digest any substance.
          Hecuba and Monima must be scouring the castle for her, but she would address that later. First, she needed to find a subtle way to quell the raging turmoil within her. Storming into the king's chambers would only jeopardize her chances of becoming the next queen. Escaping would unleash chaos in the castle before it spread throughout the kingdom, ultimately leading to her captor's head rolling by the executor's blade.
          Indeed, it would be wise to regain composure and focus on securing the position of queen, for if she were queen, a lot of changes would come. By finding solace and gathering strength, she could then confront the chaos in Rustlhem, particularly in the arena.
          She could make a difference. She would make the difference.
          Struggling to contain her roiling stomach, she clutched her gown tightly and surrendered to a torrent of tears in the enveloping darkness.
         "Ah, there you are!" A voice, unfamiliar and laced with menace, sneered from a shadowy corner behind her. She turned, expecting to face the man behind the voice, only to be confronted by his looming silhouette.
         "Who might that be?" She dabbed her tears away and cautiously approached the tall, shifting shadow. "I seek solitude. If you will not reveal yourself, I suggest you depart."
        "Solitude?" The voice asked with surprise and the trace of a chuckle. "Already?"
        "I reckon my actions are not your concern."
          A hush fell over the surroundings and it last for what seemed like infinitude.
          Suddenly, the sound of crunching leaves echoed as the man's foot pressed upon them. His shadow swiftly vanished into the depths of darkness, leaving only a faint castle torches to illuminate half of his face and the grey tunic he was wearing.
          Heart skipping a half beat, he advanced closer, playfully intimidating her. "Lyra..." he greeted, extending his hand for a friendly shake. "Prince Kōgon."
          She gracefully curtsied. "Your Regal Highness."
        "Oh, come now. No need for such formalities. I reckon you will soon be queen, and I at your feet."
          His words caused her cheeks to flush. Finally, someone sensible had appeared before her. She saw the potential for a friendship to blossom.
          In sync, their steps aligned, Lyra's heart raced as he drew near. The mere inch between them sent a jolt through her. Yet, as they both gazed at the black moon, a sense of calm washed over her.
          "You desire to flee, do you not?" His remark was direct and perceptive.
          Lady Lyra smiled, taken aback by his forthrightness and accuracy. "I am alone, Prince Kōgon. The company of my ladies offers little solace, as I only met them yesterday. My brother departed this morning. I yearn for my sisters, so yes, the idea of fleeing is indeed tempting."
          "I do not blame you, Lady Lyra. Being at court, for reasons that escape me, can weaken even the strongest of warriors."
          Kōgon was startled by the pain he saw in her eyes as she looked back at him. Having learned from the actions of his discourteous brother, the king of Thevalon, he knew it would be a terrible idea to keep the company of the fool's betrothed or lighten her mood. Even if the king didn't have romantic feelings for her as he had been making evident all morning, he couldn't provide her with any satisfaction.
          "The dread of becoming an inadequate queen is the sole burden that weighs upon me," Lyra confessed, averting her gaze. "To be groomed as a lady and to be groomed as a queen are disparate paths."
          "Indeed. Nevertheless, you shall triumph," Kōgon assured with a weary yet comforting smile, which Lyra found immensely encouraging. "Come, let us escort you indoors. You are chilled to the bone. Besides, the guards are on the lookout for you."
         "Allow me a brief moment of solitude," she pleaded, and Kōgon nodded in understanding.
          "Then I shall stay right here until you are ready."