Chapter Eight
Gods, she was tired.
The only thing keeping her eyes open was finally receiving a letter from her sister after weeks of disconcerting silence. Lunelle knew her mother received a detailed report from the High Priestess and her many eyes and ears each morning, but she also knew her sister.
If eyes were watching her, Astra was well aware and acted accordingly.
It was a sparse communication at best, rife with complaints of the king’s commander, Luxuros, which was not the least bit surprising. She’d watched their few interactions closely, alarmed by the heat searing beneath the commander’s skin.
But if Astra hadn’t beheaded him upon entry into the palace, Lunelle trusted he wasn’t a threat.
Yet.
She’d just finished her final grievance in a lengthy list—the commander doesn’t even laugh at her jokes, for gods’ sakes—when the swift movement of a pale green cape caught her eye.
Mirquios rushed past the library, his boots shuffling against the slick marble of the Plutonian halls. Something in the way he held his shoulders raised the hair on the back of her neck, tickling that space in her soul reserved for truly emergent situations. She argued with herself as she attempted to drag the pen along her response, but an insistent tug within her chest drew her from her seat.
He was in a hurry, that much was clear. As she left the comfort of the library, she saw but a mere slip of his cape curl around the corner. Lunelle followed, her eyes scraping the halls as he darted from the safety of the palace through a side door.
“Princess!”
Lunelle jerked, a silent swear ramming against the side of her head as she found Lura’s wide eyes peering at her from the Divine Mother’s altar at the end of the hall. She stopped as Mirquios disappeared into the night air.
“You seem shaken,”
Lura observed.
“I am… not. I was… where do you think the Mercurian king is off to in such a panic?”
Lura’s irises flashed toward the door. She’d heard a pair of boots scuffling by quite hurriedly as she prayed, but she hadn’t caught who they belonged to.
“I’m sure I do not know,”
she said, suspicion crawling over her. In all her years serving at Lunelle’s side, she’d never once seen her so agitated.
Lunelle’s heart raced against her judgment, and her judgment was losing its lead.
“I think he’s in trouble.”
“Princess, you should get back to your?—”
“No, thank you,”
she said simply. Her heart gave a satisfied leap at the decision resolving in her mind. She twisted from Lura and took off for the door, the night air greeting her with a balmy kiss on her bare shoulders.
“Princess!”
Lura hissed. “Lunelle,”
she tried as her careful politeness failed.
“Either forget you saw me or come along,”
Lunelle called over her shoulder, a rush so unfamiliar within her she nearly felt as if she’d had another cup of Yallara’s tea.
Lura sighed, glancing toward the guard at the door.
“I need your cloak,”
she said flatly. Their nose scrunched, sapphire eyes narrowing.
“Do you want to be the one dealing with the Lunar queen when the princess has been ambushed in the middle of your city?”
The guard looked at Lura’s outstretched hand, then over to Lunelle, who cut a quick path through the garden, and came back to Lura, their shoulders sinking as they shimmied off their black cloak.
“Your service to the Lunar Crown will be remembered,”
Lura said quickly as she broke into a sprint to catch up with her charge.
Lunelle’s pulse drummed against her wrists as the evening breeze seemed to sweep up from behind her and bless her first step from the palace garden and into the cobbled streets of Pluto’s sprawling city, Charon. Guards eyed her as Lura chased on her tail, nearly toppling over her when she stopped to search for any sign of Mirquios in the darkened streets.
Blue flames danced within lamps against gray stone buildings as her eyes locked on that cape, now joined with two others. The Mercurians hustled down a dark alley.
“Princess, what are we doing?”
Two sets of sapphire eyes glanced at the Lunarians from across the street. They stuck out terribly. Lura tossed the Plutonian’s cloak out in a gentle arc, pulling it over Lunelle’s shoulders.
She inhaled sharply as Lura’s fingers wove the ribbon into a tight bow.
“If my sister is going to be married to the king, we should know what sort of dealings he’s involved in, shouldn’t we?”
Lura stared silently at her princess.
“I’m not a madwoman, Lura, I felt what I felt and I listened to it!”
Her maiden’s lips wobbled into a smile.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever once related to the bags under Ameera’s eyes before today.”
Lura held Lunelle’s gaze, searching for anything to hold onto. It was there, buried between her duties to her throne and her sister, the need to see this through.
“Let’s go, then, we’re losing them.”
Lura followed Lunelle through the streets, slipping into shadows and hazy fog as it settled over the city like a thick blanket. Plutonians still out at this hour tracked them as they jogged, wondering what in the worlds they may be witnessing.
The Mercurians were nearly out of sight ahead, but Lunelle and Lura pressed on. When they banked left down a street bellowing with loud laughter and distant music, they stopped behind a crumbling building, the sour scent of old hops and ale floating over them. Mirquios’s courtiers stepped through an ancient wooden door first, his eyes sweeping over the street before he disappeared.
“It’s a tavern,”
Lura said as they scooted down the uneven stone path.
“They’re just having a night out.”
Lunelle shook her head, that strange gnaw in her soul still begging her forward.
“No, I don’t believe so. The way he was looking at who might see him, something must be happening inside.”
“We cannot go in there,”
Lura declared.
“I thought it was just a tavern,”
Lunelle whispered.
Lura snorted, crossing her delicate arms.
“Princess, have you ever set foot in a city tavern before?”
Lunelle glared at her but moved another breath closer still to the door. She could smell the warm caress of bread, the music grew louder with each step. Lura snatched her elbow, begging her to come back away from the door, where anyone could step out at any moment.
“There are dangers in these streets, Lunelle. We shouldn’t be here.”
Lunelle, for perhaps the first time in her entire life, ignored someone warning her. She edged toward the tavern, a wave of laughter rising from the window carved in the side. Lunelle tucked herself against the pane, allowing one eye to slip around the opening. In the middle, Mirquios sat at a table piled high with plates and pitchers, several folks in black leather speaking in quiet tones. Or perhaps they spoke at a normal level, but the music from the stage in the corner drowned them out.
Mirquios listened intently, his bright eyes transfixed by whatever the man with a thick sheet of black hair said, their heads both nodding in agreement.
She recognized the man beside him.
Luxuros.
Mirquios raised a hand and gestured toward a colorful map on the far wall, and that’s when she caught it.
The dagger-pierced crown was emblazoned on his wrist in red ink.
“Lura,”
Lunelle gasped, looking for her maiden. Lura remained rooted to the corner of the street, unwilling to further entangle herself. Lunelle rushed toward her, pointing toward the window.
“They’re rebels,”
Lunelle hissed, confused by the delight that simmered against her skin.
To Lunelle’s surprise, Lura relaxed her stance.
“Of course,”
she said.
“The Underground,”
Lura pointed at the swinging board hanging above the door, the name of the tavern scrawled in Plutonian runes.
“The curved arrow is one of the god Pluto’s symbols. They use it in jest to the gods,”
Lura explained.
“I wonder if Astra knows about this,”
Lunelle whispered to herself.
“Surely he’s told her—they’re Tethered, it’s not as if he could hide it if he wanted to.”
Lunelle’s brows creased.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m only assuming, Lunelle, but your sister’s sensibilities are powerful enough, and with the added connection of a Tether? I imagine she’d be able to see every shred of him, past, present, and future.”
“And she still agreed to marry him,”
Lunelle thought aloud.
“She must be involved.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if your sister wasn’t running the rebellion by now,”
Lura laughed.
“No,”
Lunelle breathed.
“It would not. The commander is in there as well.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, feeling that ache within her again, and realized that perhaps it had nothing to do with Mirquios, but everything to do with the rebels sitting across from him.
She’d hidden that invitation away, afraid of what it might mean. But if the king was here, if his commander was here, if her sister was aware of their movements…
Lunelle set her shoulders back and nodded, bringing a ceasefire to the war within her.
“I’m going to speak with them,”
she announced.
“Lu—”
The princess held up her hand, a mirror image of her mother, and arched a brow.
“As soon as Mirquios leaves, I’m going in. You do not have to come with me, but I need to find out for myself what’s going on.”
Lura fought the smile tugging at her lips as she watched Lunelle’s spine straighten beneath her cloak.
“Yes, Princess.”