Tale of the Princess

XXXX

"Announce their titles," Ahsan said in a hard voice that Shyra couldn't believe he was capable of. But she straightened her shoulders and fixed the guard with an imperial glare. To his credit, or maybe he just wasn't intimidated by them, he turned to the huge doors with the most bored expression in the universe, and uttered with a loud cry, "Empress Shyra of Pranali, Empress Hira of Surmandal, Princess Arina of Prakash Yukt, and their servant, Ahsan along with two guards."

"He's our royal advisor, not servant," Arina hissed, clenching her fists. "Say it correctly."

"And Ahsan, royal advisor," the guard corrected, annoyance flashing across his face.

Shyra raised her chin higher as the doors creaked open with a mighty groan that spoke of its long years. It revealed a massive courtyard that, to Shyra's surprise, glittered brightly with gold, silver, diamond and other precious metals. She snuck a glance at the others and saw that they, too, were shocked at the opulence of the palace.

"Well, is this your first time seeing so much wealth?" the guard snickered. "Get in quickly before His Highness changes his mind."

Fury burned through Shyra at his insult, but she resisted the urge to retaliate on the spot, and settled for a massive eye roll before picking up her skirts and marching through the doors.

Once the doors closed, a tall, stout man in drab grey robes approached them with a bow that Shyra thought seemed mocking. "Follow me," he said, leading the way with quick steps that had the group running to keep up with him.

They went through glimmering corridors laid with deep orange carpets and decked out with gold and silver paintings on either side of the wall. The ceilings were affixed with glittering diamond chandeliers that added a dizzying light to their path.

"Everything is too gimmicky," Shyra heard Hira mutter under her breath, and secretly agreed with the sophisticated Empress. She could only hope that Arawn wouldn't be covered in so much jewelry that it would be impossible to see his face.

There were so many twists and turns in their path that Shyra began to suspect he was doing it on purpose, to avoid them memorizing the path to the throne room. Very well. I don't plan on coming here ever again anyway.

They finally came to a stop in front of a set of double doors that were etched with delicate engravings in a language she didn't understand. The herald announced their presence, and the gates opened to the accompaniment of loud conch shells. Shyra had to resist the urge to cover her ears as she stepped into the long throne room with Arina and Hira at her side, and Ahsan leading the soldiers and guarding their backs.

At first sight, the gross overuse of color in the throne room almost overwhelmed Shyra, and she shut her eyes for a kshana to regain her composure. When she did, she could make out various clashing colors of opal blue, bright orange, sage green and many more she couldn't concentrate on, flooding her vision. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any jewels embedded in the room, saving her from getting blinded by their rays.

Arawn himself sat on a huge throne lined with royal purple at the end of the room, which was erected on a raised dais of cinnamon wood that emitted a heady fragrance. Next to him sat his wife, Kaya, Shyra recalled, on an identical throne that seemed to be a matched pair.

Both the royals were garbed identically too, with similar length of hair that fell to their shoulders, which Kaya had done in an intricate plait braided with gold chains while King Arawn put his in a high bun. Their silk angavastrams were complimentary shades of purple, the first real cohesion in color Shyra had seen in this place, while minimal jewellery adorned their necks and wrists