Hallow Crown

Chapter One

Tyson 

The polished gold handle embellished with rubies weight my hand down. The dagger had been given as a gift from one of the royal ministers, it should have been a showpiece that would remain in its holster. I threw the dagger at my wardrobe and it got lodged in the thick wood, leaving a deep hole that matched all the others. The door swung open from the shock and inside I could see my tattered supply bag. 

Normally noises that loud would have alerted the guard that was stationed outside my door but today there seemed to be even more of a buzz in the court than usual, possibly something to do with the impending visit from my fiance. 

“My Lord Tyson, it's time to go and meet your important visitor.” 

I turned to look at my advisor and smirked. I still found it funny to see him in the attendance uniform. The white shirt and tailcoat just did not match well with his curly blond hair and honey-colored skin. Like putting a skirt on a lion. 

“What is this? Since when did you start observing Royal titles, Carlos?” 

“Well... Since Her Majesty threatened to have me moved to stable duty if I didn’t stop referring to your Highness by name.”

I fell to the floor with laughter. Carlos had been by my side since we were both young and we had gone through the academy together. He was also one of very few to have enough courage to ignore my title under the nose of My Lady Mother, however, it appeared that the threat of mucking out stables was all it took to break him.  

“Well I am sorry to tell you this, but you may still end up in the stables.”

A wicked glint captured his amber eyes, “Well if that is the case, Ty, I’ll just have to make sure that her Majesty knows exactly how all of this informality came about, and that you snuck out to take the knights exam without your parents knowing.” 

I knew it was an empty threat but I still held my hands against my heart and faked a fatal blow. 

“You wound me my friend, have I not done everything for you?” 

“Of course your Highness, but alas, I fear her Majesty a great deal more than I fear you.” 

“Oh well, we will have to rectify that immediately.” 

The pleasantries continued on for a lot longer than I would have liked to admit. We stayed for so long in my room when one of My Lord Fathers' attendants was sent to knock asking if there was something wrong and to remind us that my presence had been requested. 

We finally managed to compose ourselves. Before leaving my room I grabbed my formal jacket and looped my belt.

“I do believe you have forgotten something, My Lord.” Carlos pointed at the dagger still gauding my wardrobe.

“Oh yes.” I slipped the dagger into its sheath and we made our way to the hall.

We entered together but Carlos slowly started to fall into step behind me. The Royal Hall was the centerpiece of the palace; maybe the whole kingdom if you were to believe My Lady Mother. The ceiling towered high over me, rounded with panels, each embedded with gold, jewels, and fine paintings depicting the history of our kingdom. The walls are plated with stolen gold and granite. Interlocking bronze and amethyst stones polished to a dizzying shine; made the floor look like a calm ocean at sunset.  

Stood sentinel at the other end of the hall was My Father. When I was six and had first entered his hall, I had thought him a monster waiting to eat me whole for stealing my sisters’ ribbons or for playing tricks on the nannies. Now, he is still a monster but I am at least sure he will not eat me. 

Next to him was My Lady Mother, his Queen. If one had only ever seen the state-issued portraits of Queen Nalaide, then one would assume that she was the jewel of the kingdom, with smooth porcelain skin, and golden hair, with crystal blue eyes and rosy cheeks. But that was a far cry from the vision in front of me. The queen was now a ghostly shade of white with a harshly artificial pink on her cheeks. She had unnatural straw blond hair brittle from years of bleach and lemon juice. And her eyes though piercing to behold had clouded over a milky grey, showing the signs that she was slowly going blind.  

I tried not to look at either of them. It was too painful, like a living vision of my future.  

Instead, I look at the figures beside them. They seemed to all be shrinking back, slowly fading away under the glow of the royal couple.  

All but a young girl who seemed to stand in defiance of their glare. She had dressed in a plain and slightly dated purple dress that cut off just above her ankles. It also appeared that she had made some effort to tame wildfire like curls but had inevitably given up the struggle. Her complexion splattered with freckles; without any signs of make-up or skin bleaching.  

“My Son.” His voice seemed to bounce off the walls in my head and bring everyone to a stop, “what kept you?” 

There was no accusation in his voice, either because he already knew or he simply didn’t care.

“I was simply held up My Lord Father, I apologize for the delay.” I bowed my head lower than anyone should ever need to, titers could be heard throughout the hall. 

“I forgive you, but only to save you embarrassing yourself in front of your new bride.” My Father’s joke sent ripples through his court and all agreed that the King was indeed witty.  

But my gaze didn’t falter. It stayed trained on the floor. Where it belonged.  

***

Isola

“What an arse.” I thought as I watched the King grinding his son’s pride into the dirt. The Prince had shown up late and apparently, this is the fate that beholds those who inconvenience the King. 

Though not nearly as arrogant, the Prince was scarily like his father. Both had the platinum blond hair that bordered on white in the light of day and strong jaw. But even in his regimented regal appearance, there was a hint of rebellion. His build was more muscular than was to be expected from a heavily pampered Prince, and he was far more tanned than any other Nobel’s of the courts. He even had a scar, a white line cutting through his brow.  

My hands fidgeted with the sleeves of the dress. I wanted to burn the damn thing. Apparently, Princess Oriana had no need to breathe when she wore this dress. 

“So Tyson, are you going to ignore your beautiful bride.” the King seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself at his son’s expense.  

“Of course not My Lord Father.” the Prince rose from the floor and we locked eyes, “My Lady, I am Third Prince of Hallowell, Tyson Von Hallow. It is a pleasure to meet you.”  

I had to fight down the laughter that was bubbling up, he was the perfect Prince, right down to the way he spoke.  

I bowed slightly. 

“The pleasure is all mine, My Lord, I am the first Princess of Dragolow, Oriana Dragolow.” 

No sooner had we finished our greeting the Queen took over the room and began to go over the prep for the wedding. The Queen’s babbel devolved into running water as my mind wandered back to my small cottage on the side of a hill. I barely registered the King and Queen debating the benefits of an outdoor wedding or how the Queen should be the one to choose the dress as I clearly lacked all taste in fashion. Well sorry, but there isn't much need for frilly lace on a battlefield.

That last comment from the Queen caused titters to sneak out from the crowds of people.

“I leave the dress in your capable hands, your Highness.” I tried to bow my head despite the iron rod attached to my back. 

“Of course you will,” she snapped back. The longer I looked at the Queen the more I understood why King Conan had chosen to take multiple wives. It was even harder to link the hag in front of me to the legendary temptress. 

I must have slept through the rest of court production because the next thing I register is the perfect Prince asking if I was alright.

“Oh, yes my Lord, I am just tired from the long journey.” I blink at him trying to refocus my mind.  

“Well if that is the case, I will let you rest. We can take a walk around the palace another time.” He bowed slightly before he took me by the hand and led me out of the hall. His gloves were threadbare and stained with mud. 

He held my hand down the corridor and to the gardens, back to Cormac and Rowena who stood still waiting.  

“Thank you, My Lord.” I bowed my head slightly and all but ran to my friends. 

Once I was back, safe in Cormac’s hulking shadow, I smirked slightly, while I watched the Prince round the corner.  

“My Lady.” Rowena stuttered while she shakily tried to courtesy. 

“It’s Princess, Row.” Cormac patted her head as she tried to swat him away, likely trying to save the braids in her hair. 

Looking at the gang still sent shivers down my spine, it was just odd. Rowena had scrubbed up well and the brown dye had taken surprisingly well hiding her once green hair, and the white face powder had lightened her bark-like skin. Cormac has always looked pretty normal if slightly too tall. But now he looked the part in a stolen knights tunic and his hair slicked down to hide his pointed ears. 

“Come on My Princess, we have been informed that your chambers will be in the northern annex.” 

“Well, Sir Cambell led the way.” 

Cormac tried to crush his smirk and pointed in the direction of an older looking palace. 

The short walk from the gaudy grandeur of the main hall seemed a world away from the scene before us. The corpse of the building was slowly falling down around itself. What had once been grand arches now housed generations of moss. 

So this is where they hide the bride to be.