Chapter Six
Lunelle rushed so quickly into her chambers that she failed to see the unnerved look on Lura’s face.
She flopped onto her bed, feeling rather like a petulant teenager instead of a fully grown soon-to-be-queen as she shook off Mirquios’s prideful grin. She’d resented being compared to her sister—that’s what bothered her, she realized. It was natural, of course, for people to do it.
Gods knew the Lunar Courtiers loved nothing more than to hold them up beside one another, but it was a game they both lost.
Astra was nothing like Lunelle, and Lunelle was nothing like Astra, and the court was all the better for it. They would never understand the talents each of them possessed, forever reducing them both to Fire and Ice.
She could have told him so. She could have given him the same treatment Arcas received—she’d kept a litany of observations about the Mercurians’ behaviors should Astra ever need a reason to change her mind.
Not that minds changed once Tethered, of course.
She resented something else almost as much as the comparison—the lilt to his tone, the suggestion that he was special for seeing something within her she’d always known about herself.
He may have been the first person to say it aloud, but she’d realized years ago her power was in the held breaths of courtiers, in the things they do not say.
“This is useless to dwell on,”
she muttered to herself as she rolled over, flipping her metallic locks across her shoulders. Something crunched beneath her as she tossed. She sat up, sliding her hand between the bedspread and her stomach, finding a small envelope with her name scrawled across the front.
Her eyes darted to the two maidens by the door.
“Would you like a moment, Princess?”
Lura asked. Her pale amethyst eyes fell directly on the envelope.
She’d been waiting for Lunelle to discover it.
Lunelle would have liked a moment. She would have liked several moments.
“Yes, Lura. Thank you,”
Lunelle said. Her finger was already midway across the seal, cracking the navy wax with one quick swipe as they shuffled into the next room.
Princess Lunelle Aurellis,
It is with great honor that the Plutonian Court receives the next Lunar queen. We’ve heard promising things about your wise heart. Surely, you must realize, all is not well within the courts. It is up to the future generation of leaders to right the wrongs.
Meet us at midnight tomorrow at The Underworld and see a side of the courts you’ve never dreamed of.
Beneath the elegant script bled an inked dagger pierced through a crown and a short line in a language Lunelle did not recognize, though she was fluent in several.
She pursed her lips, a flicker of something heated within her and caught her off guard. Folding the parchment inward, she found a space between her journals to slip the note. Though she wasn’t sure how she knew, she was certain it wasn’t for public consumption. The Underworld, she thought, a chill racing between the tissue of her spine like a fish swimming upriver.
She shook her head. Nothing good could come of anything of the sort, especially after last night’s showing.
“Lura,”
she called.
“Can you draw a bath for me?”
She rolled her shoulders back, stretching her neck, trying to find somewhere to keep all of the tension. It was always moments like those she wondered how her sister kept from burning down entire cities—the tension within her certainly felt flammable enough to ignite fires.
“Already drawn, Princess,”
Lura smiled as she poked her head back into the room.
“You’re an angel,”
Lunelle said quietly, chewing on the edge of her thumb.
“Princess?”
Lura stepped into the room, glancing over her shoulder for any other ears as she dropped her tone. She pulled nervously at the edge of her robes.
“What is it, Lura?”
Lunelle’s eyes softened as she stood.
“I wasn’t being nosy, I promise,”
Lura started. She folded her knee beneath her as she sank onto the arm of a chair across from Lunelle.
“But I saw who dropped the note, and, well, I recognized the insignia on her vest.”
Lunelle’s lips parted, but she held her question.
Lura’s eyes darted across the room toward the door.
“She was a rebel, Princess. A Nova Rebel.”
Lunelle sat back on her bed. She’d heard of the Nova Rebels in whispers during meetings with her mother—they were causing quite the problem down in Ellume, back in the Lunar Court. She would never admit it to the queen, but she had been curious more than once about their mission.
And whether, given the opportunity to hear them out, she might actually agree with a portion of it.
Arcas had mentioned the rebels last night, but Yallara hadn’t seemed convinced their attacker was part of the group. The heat rose along her spine at the very notion of subverting her mother—her court—to take a meeting with them. The thought had simmered in her muscles for years now, but this note—this invitation—forced them to scream to the surface of her skin.
She’d seen the rot within her own court and knew how it spread to the rest.
“A rebel,”
she repeated, avoiding Lura’s face.
She whispered, “I know your mother and Ivonne are against them?—”
Lunelle held up a hand.
“My mother and I share many similarities, but not all,”
she said aloud for perhaps the first time in her entire life. But she felt it then—taking hold somewhere between lung and heart—it would not be the last.
“How much do you know about the Novas, Lura?”
Lura looked toward the stack of journals on her nightstand, finding the one that contained the note. “Enough.”
“I try not to pit our maidens against one another…”
Lunelle drew her knees to her chest, her mind turning over.
“So do not feel pressured to answer. But you speak with Ameera often—if there’s any whiff of rebellion in the Lunar Court, surely my sister is involved, no?”
Lura considered this. Of course, maidens talked, but Ameera had always been tight-lipped about Astra’s comings and goings—no matter how much the other maidens begged for even a morsel of the Fire Queen’s antics.
“I can’t be sure,”
she said.
“I could inquire?”
“No,”
Lunelle sighed.
“I’ll write to her. Not that she’s any good at keeping up with her correspondence.”
She chuckled.
“Perhaps I should write to Ameera after all."
Lura shrugged—though Ameera was loyal to her princess, she and Lunelle had developed a kinship in Astra’s absence.
“Be considerate of what you commit to ink, Princess. The Rift is not as safe as it once was.”
Lunelle nodded.
“Do not speak of this to anyone else.”
“Of course.”
Lunelle slipped under the warm water in the tub, letting her stiff shoulders soften despite her mind only tangling into a deeper knot. She closed her eyes, resting her neck against the bronze edge, feeling a pull on her mind as she spiraled downward.
She was unable to resist the sweet melody that pulled her further within herself.
Her eyes fluttered open, a busy tavern materializing around her. The scent of thick mead and sweet wine tickled her nostrils as the dimly lit room faded into her consciousness. A few men sat at the table before her, plucking away at plates of something that smelled like home.
“Princess?”
Lunelle spun, face to face with a broad set of shoulders. A warm gaze settled softly over cerulean skin. She jolted, unsure where she was or how she’d arrived there.
Or how in the Nether the man before her could see her.
The sharp start to her heart shoved her back through space and time and plopped her unceremoniously back into the water, surprisingly cold to her after just a few moments.
“Princess?”
Lura asked again.
“Is everything well?”
Lunelle must have looked as drained of color as she felt.
“Um, yes. Yes, of course. I think I fell asleep.”
She spent the rest of her evening allowing her eyelids to flutter shut, waiting for the spiraling drain to begin.
To her disappointment or relief—she had no way of telling—she remained firmly in her bed, staring at the journals on her nightstand, the slightly larger gap between the middle volume taunting her with its tempting ideas.