Chapter Nineteen
“This is brilliant,”
Kwan said, reading over the message once again.
“I thought so, too,”
Luxuros responded, sipping from a heady ale Lunelle had already decided wasn’t for her—she needed only to see Lura’s lips pucker in disgust to know. She watched the commander carefully, the heat of him still hard to trust.
Luxuros had arrived in the middle of dinner with urgent news for Mirquios. He’d darted through the dining hall and pulled him away, the rush of whatever he told his king sending a shiver over the Tether.
They’d left for The Underground immediately after Oestera retired for the night. He hadn’t asked her to come along so much as it was simply understood at this point.
“Who would have thought we’d have two Lunar princesses on our side by the Equinox?”
Kwan smiled and waved at the bartender, sending for another round. The Mercurians huddled against the table, thrilled to break the news to the rebels that not only was Lunelle bound to them, but Astra had already been of great service to their mission in Ellume.
“She is not bound,”
Luxuros said.
“Not yet. We’ve had a few hiccups with rogue assassins, but I plan on taking her to Ehlaria during the Equinox. Loleena has already offered to bind her?—”
“You will not?”
Lunelle asked.
Luxuros turned toward her, shifting his large frame next to her king.
His king, she corrected herself.
Lux pulled back his sleeve, revealing a series of shallow scars and a thin pink line in his palm.
“I’m afraid I’ll be bled dry by the end of my time in the Lunar Court,”
he chuckled.
“Bloodmoon won’t do it?”
Kwan asked.
Luxuros glared at the Plutonian leader as Lunelle snorted—Mirquios arched a brow.
“Long story,”
Lunelle assured him.
“Loleena will be the best option. I will send word when it’s done. Until then, keep chipping away at the prince,”
Luxuros muttered to Mirquios. As the second round of pints landed on the table, Luxuros began his exit, but Lunelle trailed him out onto the street.
“Commander?”
He spun, his bronzed skin catching the blue flames of the Plutonian streetlamps.
“The assassins…”
Luxuros ran his hand through his dark waves.
“We’re handling it, I assure you. Though I’m not sure your sister would even need our assistance.”
Lunelle’s heart lightened at that.
“She has not responded to my letters,”
she whispered.
Luxuros stepped back toward her, softening in his stance.
“You would be proud of her, Lunelle. She’s handling all of this much better than I would have expected given our first few encounters. But I will be sure to remind her not to neglect the Fire Queen’s most loyal subject,”
he said, winking at her.
As he turned to leave, she wondered for just a moment how she could be considered anything near loyal. The Tether in her chest relaxed as Mirquios joined her on the street, though the wash of nausea in its wake kept her grounded.
“It’s about time we had some good news,” he said.
She turned to him, folding her arms around herself.
“Luxuros seems to believe you can break Arcas.”
Mirquios nodded.
“We’ve had a few conversations around the subject. They’ve gone better than yours have, I’m sure, but not great.”
“I could convince him,”
she said firmly.
Mirquios eyed her, his lips curling at the edges.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said.
She glared, the ice in her nickname hitting him in the chest.
“It is only… I imagine there’s nothing you couldn’t convince any man of.”
She rocked toward him, frowning.
“Because of my sharp wit and wise leadership, of course?”
The king leaned forward, the heat of him raining over her. The Tether spun between them, begging them for more, closer, now, now, now.
“Of course,”
he murmured.
She let her eyes linger on that ridiculous smirk of his, framed by eyes that saw far too much.
“Princess!”
Lunelle twisted toward the far-off voice, finding a blur of black and blue rushing over the cobblestone.
“Yallara?”
she whispered.
Her face was pained, she was sprinting for gods knew how long—maybe all the way from the palace. Yallara crashed into Lunelle, panting and screaming.
“Get in! Get inside!”
Mirquios did not hesitate to listen to her frantic screams, dragging the women back into The Underground.
“There’s a raid coming, they just left the palace, they’re heading here!”
Yallara grasped at her throat, gasping for air as Lunelle patted her back, two dozen sets of eyes widening as the princess spoke.
“Let’s go!”
Kwan yelled as the room moved in one chaotic blur.
They’d been through this before.
Mirquios gripped Lunelle’s hand, yanking her toward the back of the tavern. She snagged Yallara as they went, wrapping her fingers around the princess’s delicate wrists.
Bodies clamored against the small hall, diving down a narrow staircase beneath the city and into the catacombs. No one spoke as Kwan directed them, leading them through the caverns and banging on doors marked with silver roses.
Safe houses, Lunelle realized.
They’d built an entire network of safe houses across the city, and he was letting them know to hunker down.
Mirquios bellowed something in his native tongue, causing the Mercurians to split and fall into a regimented line behind him as he pulled the princesses toward another winding staircase. He gave a final salute to Kwan as the Plutonians continued beyond them, scattering and spreading amongst the various exits to the catacombs. Mirquios did not look back, did not stop moving until they broke through the catacombs and into a quiet townhome, dark and coated in a fine layer of dust.
“The door,”
he commanded one of his courtiers, who moved to shove a bookshelf in front of the entry. The rest of the rebels, at least a dozen of them, spread out, some heading upstairs, some lingering in the kitchen, staying away from the windows.
“Sit,”
Mirquios directed to her, tucking Lunelle and Yallara into a study that had not seen the light of a lantern or candle in months, maybe years.
Mirquios stooped down before them.
“Your only job is to stay quiet and protect her,”
he said to Lunelle, gesturing to Yallara.
“She’s our best hope at bringing Pluto into the revolution.”
Lunelle glanced at Yallara. She bit back a panic flooding her with the betrayal of one’s brother.
“Where are you going?”
He gave her a long, quiet look that said so much, too much.
“To make sure your job stays easy,”
Mirquios mumbled, tapping the shoulder of one of his courtiers, the largest of them. Their boots creaked against the wooden floor, stopping near the front door.
“Lura,”
Lunelle whispered, a chill jolting through her chest. She looked at Yallara, tucked beside her, and finally caught up to her breath.
“My maiden, Lura, I don’t see her!”
Lunelle crawled across the study, searching through boots and knees.
She hadn’t seen her on the stairs.
“Get back in there, Lunelle, please,”
Mirquios whispered harshly, sitting with his back against the door.
“If Arcas barges in here and sees either of you, we’re fucked.”
“Lura was at The Underground, I didn’t see her leave,”
Lunelle said, her heart aching at the thought she was left behind.
“Lura has been part of the rebellion for a decade, Lu. She knows where to go. The moment Kwan clears us, we’ll find her, okay? Now, please, please get back from the door!”
Lunelle held her breath as she crawled back toward Yallara—each movement felt like a betrayal.
“When did you join?”
Yallara asked quietly, her wide eyes searching Lunelle’s.
“Recently,”
Lunelle mumbled.
“Arcas will kill me if he knows, Lunelle, he will not hesitate?—”
“Shh,”
Lunelle hummed, patting Yallara’s knee.
“It’s my first official Nova assignment to protect you. I would never allow it.”
Yallara pressed her lips together, and Lunelle realized just how young she truly was.
“What are you going to do about him?”
Yallara asked, pointing to the doorway, where Lunelle knew Mirquios hovered.
Lunelle’s brows furrowed.
A crash against the back door sent them both jumping.
“It’s only Kwan,”
Mirquios said around the corner.
“One knock is stay, three is clear.”
“If he finds Lura, he’ll arrest her, he’ll make a show of it at court. He won’t kill her right away,”
Yallara whispered beside Lunelle.
She only nodded.
When three knocks finally came, Lunelle had closed her eyes for only a moment.
She jerked awake, Yallara’s half-asleep eyes peering back at her.
“How long?—”
“An hour. Just an hour,”
Mirquios said as he stood before her, offering a hand. He hauled her to her feet and helped Yallara up.
“You two should head back to the palace. We shouldn’t be caught together.”
Lunelle reached for his arm but withheld her touch at the last second.
“Where will you go?”
Mirquios glanced toward the street, now pitch black as the lanterns extinguished themselves in the dead of night. Smoke filled the city.
“They likely burnt The Underground. The Mercurians will stay and help Kwan collect anything salvageable. Go. Get Yallara back and find Lura.”
Lunelle nodded, her heart racing at the thought of leaving him. Yallara stepped out of the study, pulling at her sleeves anxiously as she slowly made her way through the hall. Lunelle was nearly at the door when her hand caught in the king’s.
She gasped as he pulled her into him.
“Take this,”
he whispered, pressing a slim dagger into her empty hand.
“Through the ribs, harder than you think. Panic is death, Lu.”
Lunelle looked at the delicate handle of the dagger—golden, engraved with the Mercurian crest—and back up at him.
“Mir—”
“Go,”
he said, swallowing whatever else he wanted to say to her. He pressed all of it into the handle of his dagger, hoping it would be enough.
She wanted to lean forward, press her lips to his, she wanted to tell him that if he didn’t make it back in one piece, she would crawl to hell herself and strangle him.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she pressed the cold steel of the dagger into her hand and slipped quietly into the night, guiding Yallara through the shadows of the city until they were both back in their rooms.
The door clicked closed, and she leaned forward, hesitantly whispering, “Lura?”
Only the darkness whispered back.