Chapter 60

"Braid my hair with petals of limerisches, I'll bring you delicacies glazed with honey and lilacs; give my heart those flutters of dancing over the clouds and chasing the stars and aurorae overhead, I will ignite your day with a smile when I see beauty in the world...

But, alas! How can I adore it when it is so broken without you?"

~

The Northern Gardens of the Royal Courtyard,

The Imperial Castle,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

The first Phrinight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

Crescence sat upon a bed of grass in one of the gardens of the Castle's courtyard, softly stroking her hand over the wet blades with their dew.

There were a few fireflies lingering late and gracing the cold night with their ignited beauty, but not even that appeared magical to her eyes when Imogen was not with her.

After the rains had mellowed, the dark-haired damsel had scurried to the outdoors, for the absence of her friend was suffocating and at such times, they would oft abscond to this place together for the crisp air and vast skies.

It felt as if Imogen's spirit may still be alive in the garth and thus, Crescence had come.

She was clad in one of the exotic gowns that she had received from Imogen's possessions: it was pleasing to the eye with sleeves and an elegant belt that glistened under light, ribbons that encompassed her neck with a few copper trimmings, and skirts erupting long and luxuriously down to her feet.

The dress was as comely as to impress her sombre moods, but she could wear none out of her fresh deck of garments to the Imperial Enthroning.

All of the attendants of the Cuisine Department and those waiting on guests were to be guised in like attire that was posh and prim and extravagant, yet only uniform.

The dark-haired damsel sighed heavily, her breath escaping in clouds of fog.

Of course, the lack of riches was oft a bother, but presently, the absence of her friend was most concerning.

She laid back against the fair and moist grass that was swaying to the lilt of the winds.

As all the thoughts of Imogen and how special the girl oft did make her feel seeped into the emergent realms of her mind, Crescence cried her tears into the pillow of meadow.

It was consoling to weep aloud, for it felt as if the pent up emotions were finally released into the evening and out the cages of her heart that was gathering sorrows.

Scenes of her friend shamefully led down the public execution procession that morning, her staying cold and hungry behind dark glass bars in a forlorn cell, hurled off the ridge of the cliff, blood curling screams and end: all of the visions of that day caused Crescence's body to shiver in chills.

Tears streamed down into the green fleece of the earth when she realised how lonely she was without Imogen and of all the gruesome fate the girl had been shoved into.

The pastures that were about soothed her and she smiled soulfully in her trance before there was a great weight that fluttered and rested against her stomach.

She gasped and arose to find a bird majestically seated upon her: hazel-breasted, beak pointed sharply and earth-ward, a single long feather from its right eye reaching to the back of its crown like it was crested, black falcon with its single pair of wings returning into their place.

"Noctyn!" Crescence exclaimed in joy. The bird appeared to disconcertedly flutter, before the sound of her giggle bid it to recline against her bust.

The maiden gauged that the pet whose sight was fading must have perceived that she was Imogen for the smell of her garments, but her voice may have conflicted with its judgement.

She heaved a sigh, for it was sorrowful how the bird mayn't have known of the damsel's brutal demise during the thunderstorm.

After the rains had withdrawn, Noctyn must have flown to the gardens, seeking her.

"I have no berries for you this night", she informed, watching the bird descend from her lap until it was comfortable upon the lush grass, pruning its feathers beneath the beautiful metal pauldron against its shoulder of wings that Imogen had ordered for its apparel.

"Do you look for Gen?", asked she and the bird perked up.

Crescence smiled sadly before caressing the falcon's head saying, "She isn't here this night."

As those words departed her lips, she looked up into the endless skies of heaven till her eyes were as pools reflecting their constellations.

The keeper of the Garth strode down the stone pathway beneath the trellis and called, "Young lady, it is late, far past your time to retire. Must you not return into the Castle?"

"Yes, good sir", said she rising and shaking her thoughts away. Noctyn flapped his wings and rose to her shoulder as it always perched to Imogen's.

"I must collect the dishes, wash them and report before bed. Stay here for the night and be safe, alright?" said she and the wild bird purred softly before taking flight into the night.

Crescence carefully dusted the gown that she had worn for the sake of lifting her spirits and the wet grass had left its essence upon it. Sighing, she brushed the skirts before withdrawing to the chambers and duty.

As she made her way to the Kitchen's Quarters, there was Lady Serilda's voice heard within the office, addressing Azaire. The damsel wondered if it was regarding his illness.

She considered if the old man that was Imogen's prison-mate, 'Oreius Zephaniah', was the one ailing, whom the boy had had to tend to the night before, amidst rains, wherefore he had taken sick that day.

However, it may not have been disclosed to Azaire that it was for such man, since he seemed to be held highly secretive.

"Where had you been?", came a deep voice from behind her and Crescence flinched. She swivelled to find River standing there, scratching the nape of his neck.

The dark-haired damsel nervously laughed before sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear, saying, "I had taken ill from sighting such hostile environment in the Prison Dorms and thus, had returned to the Royal Physician's office for treatment."

The lad nodded. "I was waiting for you by the Gates for an hour, but then the Keeper told me you had left urgently a while before. He even mentioned you seemed bedraggled, but I could not catch sight of you thereafter."

"Thank you for the concerns; I had not expected them. I am well now", she lied, before hurrying to leave.

In truth, reminiscence of the Under-Ground Dungeons made her head throb, for it had been terrifying an experience when she had overheard the Regents.

However, it had granted her that final opportunity to meet Imogen and share moments before her demise.

Crescence paused hesitantly and whirled, crying, "River!"

The man turned and waited for her words that she needed to weave carefully. "Kindly tell not Lady Serilda that I escorted you there-under. I was not granted to, but I was overcome with curiosity."

The lad in question paused to consider, before giving her a nod. "It is beyond me to so particularly betray you", said he lazily, with a smile.

The damsel reflected the smile, for if she was he, she would not have rested before digging deep into the wherefores thereof.

The dark-haired maiden pensively strode up the flight of stairs that led to the Princess' Dorm. She needed to collect the dishes post dinner and cleanse them.

Crescence knew that the Princess was not, in fact, within the chambers, be-cause the behaviour of food preferences was unusual for the fortnight of her "fast from encountering persons".

She wondered what would be achieved to impersonate her before the Crowning Ceremony. Per-haps the royal damsel had been sent on a confidential trip from whence she would return fro the Castle before the day that followed the morrow.

As the maiden took the trays and made her way towards the kitchen, her eyes caught glance of a certain parchment in the bowls of Irwisch almonds and she curiously unravelled it.

~