Chapter Thirty
“Princess?”
Lunelle paced beyond the balcony doors, the fluttering stars of her Trial Ball dress falling like rain behind her as she twisted and turned. She looked toward the hall, where Arcas stood wrapped in a silver tunic to complement hers. Her mother was irritatingly good.
Her heart sparked to life, as did the tender spot beneath her ribs, followed by a sickening churn in her stomach.
“Arcas—”
He reached for the edge of the door, running his thumb over the stone.
“Do not send me away. Please.”
She sighed. She was, indeed, about to send him away rather than confront the complex feelings that pulled at her muscles and swirled in her spine.
“I brought you a gift,”
he mumbled, holding something out to her.
She eyed the box skeptically.
“What is that?”
Arcas rolled his eyes, moving closer.
“Just take it, Lunelle,”
he said. He pushed the small box into her hands, crushed black velvet lining the top. Lunelle cracked it back and held her breath as a delicate silver and sapphire ring caught the flickering light above.
The center stone was flanked by two deep, nearly black crystals, humming to life as she brushed her fingers over them.
“Arcas, I cannot?—”
“Even if I perish in the Nether, even if you feed me to unimaginable creatures—which I would not fault you for—you should have it. It is a coronation gift, not an engagement ring.”
Lunelle felt that twisted thing within her whisper sweet curses, pushing her toward him.
“It’s stunning.”
“It was my mother’s,”
he said, testing the line between them as he toed closer to her.
“I was going to pass it down to Yallara, but she insisted you have it.”
Lunelle arched a brow.
“Yallara insisted?”
Arcas’s lips twitched into something like a smile.
“She said it would sing for you… does it?”
Lunelle ran her fingers over the stones, their gentle whirring vibrating against her skin. She nodded.
“My mother… she had an affinity for the Descended. They sang to her, too.”
His eyes dropped to the box in her hand.
“I never quite understood it, but perhaps you can hear what I never could.”
Lunelle’s chest tightened as she closed the box. She glanced over the prince’s shoulder at the balcony doors.
“I suppose I should get downstairs,”
Arcas said, swallowing something she’d wished he had the nerve to speak aloud.
“Arcas—”
“Do not hurt my feelings tonight, starling,”
he whispered, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. It was the most chaste touch they’d ever shared, and yet it felt more intimate than when they were pressed against one another, without a stitch between them.
“Thank you,”
she said as he left the room. She wondered if he’d heard her—if he knew she was not thanking him for the ring. She could feel his half smile slide down whatever dark portal lived between them as he disappeared.
“What a stunning piece,”
Lura said over her shoulder, slipping out of the shadows.
“It is.”
Lunelle stared at the box for another moment before Lura stretched out her hand.
“I’ll get it back to your room,”
she said.
“Unless… you wanted to wear it?”
“No,”
Lunelle said without hesitation.
“Not tonight.”
“Very well,”
Lura replied, tucking the box into her pocket.
“Last look!”
Lura’s amethyst irises swept the princess, every falling star perfectly placed, every white wisp of hair tucked neatly beneath a sparkling diadem.
“We’re ready for her,”
a maiden said, leaning into the room.
Lura gave her princess—her friend—one last smile before gently pushing her toward the door, her heels clicking quickly as she approached the balcony.
“Freeze your face, Ice Queen,”
Lura called after her, Lunelle’s lower lip sucked between her teeth. She released her lip and giggled, setting her shoulders back in a graceful pose.
“Princess Lunelle Silverswan Aurellis, the future Queen of the Lunar Court. May the Mother bless her Within, and Without.”
It was a tidal wave crashing over her—all the eyes of the court at once. She’d been the center of their attention before, but tonight felt different. It felt impossible to breathe.
Each step cracked her careful mask. She was not being seen, she was being looked at.
Her eyes fell on the Mercurian king, Astra’s arm tightly looped against him as his fingers clutched into a fist at their shared panic. She did not dare dwell for long, her own nerves screaming at her as she took the final step, and a pale blue hand reached for hers.
The Tether and the echo beyond it both jolted, confusing her gaze as she settled into the crowd. Music struck up, the room spun, and she was once again in the arms of the Plutonian prince. Though, this time, she did not feel sickened by him or an uncontrollable urge to fuck him into silence.
She found something like peace with Arcas. It was not a sparkling gem, and it was not forgiveness, but it was something like it.
“You're going to break my hand, Lunelle,”
Arcas whispered, a faint chuckle on his breath. Lunelle frowned as they spun, her dress floating behind her. She led him in a spirited waltz, his long legs keeping time with hers as she twisted them into a tight circle.
“Sorry,”
she muttered, loosening her grip on his palm, eyes scanning the hundreds of faces surrounding them.
When exactly is Selenia supposed to join us? Lunelle beamed to her sister. She’d wanted to sound confident and calm, but even she could hear the panic in her own voice.
Astra’s eyes found hers. We didn’t set an exact time. You can do this.
As they spun again, Lunelle watched as Astra mumbled to Mirquios, his lips pulled into a bitter line. Lunelle snorted. We may not even have to rely on her. I think Mirq’s glare might vaporize Arcas and solve the problem for us.
Her sister’s lips curved into an amused grin. And that’s with my attempts to calm him.
Lunelle watched as Astra leaned into the king, patting his arm as if he were a scared child. Lunelle knew what he was worried about—not the blue hands that held her, but the chance they might harm her in ways no one else but he understood.
Behind her sister, the commander watched them like a hawk, his eyes on every exit in the room at once.
She wished, for a moment, that her sister had been brave enough to share it with her—the hope they’d found in one another. Astra always had a reason for her secrets, but she was carrying so many at this point, Lunelle had hoped at least this one might spill over.
She had dozens of questions.
Lunelle planted the seed, much like her mother would have, beaming I only hope you find a love like this one day, Astra.
Astra didn’t even know she did it, surely, but her eyes dropped for merely a breath toward the Solarian at the back of the room.
One day.
As Lunelle swept Arcas across the dancefloor, Astra’s ruby curls joined the fray. They were close enough to brush skirts as Astra pulled Mirquios into the center. Something Mirquios said sent her sister’s head back in a true, genuine laugh. A sound Lunelle had missed for so long.
She prayed it would be more frequent when they were out of this mess.
Lunelle refocused her attention on Arcas.
“We heard some interesting news from the Plutonian captain?—”
“Oh, gods,”
Arcas murmured, stopping mid-turn as the air in the room shifted into something strange, cool.
Whispers tickled at Lunelle’s ears, the sudden loss of momentum from Arcas throwing her off balance. She followed the wide stares of the courtiers to an ancient goddess, one boasting the same frigid glare Lunelle knew she fell into.
Her mother was across the floor in a heartbeat, but Selenia was already before her, an ethereal glow with a sick black at the edge—how Lunelle hadn’t caught it before was beyond her.
“Lunelle.”
Selenia reached forward, tilting her chin with ancient fingertips, sizing her up. She felt two distinct shivers within her—one gold, one black, both wrapped in a protective rage.
“Grandmother.”
Lunelle lowered her head, the tiara atop it suddenly feeling rather heavy.
“What an exciting celebration!”
Selenia announced, cutting the music short as the orchestra realized there was a disturbance in the crowd.
Oestera stood beside Lunelle, her shoulder brushing her daughter’s in a silent show of something. She felt both the panicked pull of the Tether as Mirquios wrestled in his spot and the cool alchemy of Arcas as his hand dropped to her hip, pulling her closer to him. His sapphire eyes flickered to the king’s cold stare, the slightest nod between them turning and untangling one of the many knots within her.
Selenia cast a look at her daughter that burned Lunelle’s chest.
“No need to stop on my account! I’m merely here to deliver a message on behalf of the Court Above. We’ve been waiting with bated breath to see who our champions will be, but it seems my daughter has failed to provide much competition for your hand, my dear girl.”
Selenia reached for Lunelle’s hand, squeezing it as she spoke. The chill from her fingers ran through Lunelle’s gloves, sending goosebumps over her exposed arms.
Selenia continued, “We try not to involve ourselves unless absolutely necessary, of course, but that time has come.”
Lunelle’s eyes slid to her mother’s face, ever the perfect mask of calculated disinterest.
“You there, Mercurian child, look how you’ve grown under the harsh Sun. Your great-grandmother was just bragging to us at a party about how excited they are for a Lunar queen.”
Lunelle lurched forward as her grandmother reached for Mirquios, but the hand on her hip clutched the stars floating from her dress.
“Easy, starling,”
Arcas whispered.
Mirquios stepped forward, Astra’s warm gaze kindling into something brazen.
Selenia pursed her lips.
“I understand there’s an arrangement made here already, but Astra, my dear girl, surely you understand that bigger games are at play?”
Lunelle watched as her father stepped into her line of vision, his expression a myriad of concern. His fingers danced over the dagger on his hip.
“Mercury has proven themselves worthy of a Lunarian woman already, but perhaps the Lunar Court needs young Mirquios’s eyes more than Pluto’s... modest offering.”
Arcas’s breath hitched as he released his hold on her, injured by the goddess’s assessment.
Selenia’s lips curled in disgust at his visible offense and Lunelle fought the urge to verbally spar with the goddess.
“I suppose only the trial will tell.”
Oestera’s voice cracked, “Mother?—”
Lunelle flinched as Selenia’s hand rose, silencing Oestera.
“It is decided. What happens tomorrow is up to Fate.”
“But Astra… the Tether?—”
Astra played her part well. Her eyes were perfectly terror-struck, and Lunelle wondered if it was impressive acting or the realization that she was about to be truly indebted to Selenia.
Selenia continued, “Sometimes we get things wrong, Oestera. Surely you can understand that. Astra is a strong girl. She’ll do whatever it takes to secure her court, will she not?”
Lunelle’s gaze tracked a single tear as it slipped over her sister’s pale cheek.
“There we have it. Mirquios is to compete in the trial against Arcas, and we’ll have a real show to watch in the Court Above. Although...”
She felt their eyes bounce from the Mercurian king to the Plutonian prince, and settle on her. Lunelle held her composure, but the inhale of her grandmother’s next breath drove something sharp into her chest.
“One champion is so very dull. Two is interesting...”
Selenia turned about the room, every step a performance, well rehearsed. Selenia paced before the crowd, drawing out the moment, savoring it.
“Three. Three’s enticing. You’re in quite the predicament, Oestera. The Solar king is mounting an attack, he’s already invaded Saturn and Jupiter. Is Pluto really the best Outer heir you can do?”
Lunelle’s face turned, catching Arcas as his jaw clenched, the Shadows between them reaching for one another.
Selenia’s brow arched.
“Did you even attempt to find a stronger alliance?”
Oestera rooted into her heels, her lips quaking with a million thoughts she could not say.
“I—”
Selenia had no patience for it.
“Spare me, Oestera. Luckily, as always, I’ve done the work for you. My right hand discovered something quite fascinating when your second-born came to visit me.”
Lunelle reached for someone, anyone, her hand finding Arcas’s as he moved closer to her. She could feel the same uncertainty course through him that flooded her heart, beating loud enough that she knew he could hear it. Could feel it.
Oestera’s eyes flickered to Astra, a pain within them Lunelle had never seen before.
“It’s always the second-born that breaks your heart, wouldn’t you agree, Oestera? You younger lot may not know this—it’s not well documented in the Living Courts—but there’s only one way to get through the Court Above’s gates outside of a Solstice or Equinox. No mere mortal can pass.”
Arcas’s hand tightened around Lunelle’s, her lungs filling with dread. She looked for Luxuros, his jaw set as Selenia spoke. There, in the way his shoulders sloped. In the hold of his chest. She saw the same rigid posture that had been carved into her from birth.
“Now, a demigod has certain privileges. So color me intrigued when a certain commander came to collect my granddaughter.”
“Oh,”
Lunelle breathed, a complex web of thoughts collapsing on itself. She turned against Arcas, looking for Mirquios, the Tether between them shaking with the conclusion they’d both drawn.
“And now that I see you, Commander, the resemblance is truly uncanny. Wouldn’t you say, Oestera?”
Luxuros stepped onto the floor, his stature so much more than a mere man. More than a soldier or a commander.
A prince.
Selenia frowned. “Well?”
Oestera’s lips twitched. Her head tilted, a spark of something in her eyes setting the whole damned room ablaze.
Selenia relished in her verbal dagger, sinking it into her daughter’s chest.
“Luxuros Soleras.”
Lunelle thought she might be ill. She let go of the prince’s hand, pushing away from him, but she felt his fingers grab hold of the back of her dress, trailing her as she bolted toward Astra.
She needed to get to her sister.
Selenia’s words only got louder as she twisted the knife.
“The heir to the Solar throne. Two thousand years of trials and we’ve never had a champion of your lineage for obvious reasons... but it does make one wonder.”
Astra, Lunelle sent. Mirquios’s gaze found hers as he held Astra back from the goddess.
The commander was a statue, frozen in place, his entire world falling into an infinitely shifting sea.
“You seem confused,”
Selenia cooed. She grinned as Astra finally broke from the king’s grip, her lips trembling as she grasped to understand what had just happened.
Luxuros did not speak.
“No matter,”
Selenia sighed.
“It’s settled. You will join your king and the Plutonian prince to compete for Lunelle’s hand. Good luck, Commander. Now, we were celebrating, were we not?”
She clapped her hands twice, and that’s all it took.
The music crackled back to life, disjointed and not quite right as Selenia cut back through the crowd. The courtiers held their breath for a moment, and then the room burst into hushed speculation as the commander and Astra darted through the crowd.
Someone caught Lunelle’s arm.
“Do you’ve any idea how monstrous Solan is?”
Arcas rasped at her.
“If he knew—if he finds out you’re harboring his heir?—”
Lunelle ripped her shoulder away from him.
“Then go! No one is keeping you here,”
Lunelle hissed.
Arcas pulled her closer, his eyes scanning the room.
“We need a plan, Lunelle. This just got infinitely more dangerous for both of you! For all of us?—”
“I am aware, Arcas!”
He squeezed her hand, his eyes pooling with something much more frightening than his cowardice, or his disdain for many of them.
With concern for her.
Lunelle did not hear whatever he muttered behind her as she shoved her way out of the hall and into the gardens. Mirquios had her elbow and Ameera bumped into her shoulder as they froze, the portrait of her sister and the commander hard to bear.
They were Sun and Moon, drowning in one another’s untenable light.
“I didn’t know,”
the commander whispered as he grasped Astra’s shoulders. Mirquios slid behind Lunelle, resting a hand on the small of her back, a pain of which they’d only scratched the surface.
“I never dreamed, Astra.”
“I know. I believe you.”
Astra’s hand came to his jaw, but she quickly drew it back, her eyes landing on the audience gathering at the edge of the garden. Lunelle glanced behind her at the sound of shuffling boots. Her father darted from the ballroom, eyes wide as he parted between them.
“Nayson,”
Luxuros said—a warning to Astra, Lunelle realized. He released his hold on her, stepping as far back as he could.
“As!”
Nayson pulled Astra’s shocked frame into an embrace, but her eyes never left the ground.
“Luxuros? Are you well?”
“I–I don’t know,”
the commander mumbled.
Mirquios’s grip on Lunelle’s back tightened as the energy in the garden soared to new heights, her mother’s wild eyes sweeping over every last one of them as she charged her sister.
“Astra Leona!”
Astra held her hands up in defense.
“We didn’t know?—”
“What have you done?”
her mother asked, the ice in her tone sending a shiver deep into Lunelle’s muscles. She’d heard her mother yell at Astra thousands of times, but this was decidedly different.
“What?”
“Why did you go to her? What did you offer her?”
All of this spectacle was enough to send anyone into a panic, but her mother’s unsteady tone was chilling in a way she’d never experienced.
“I didn’t?—”
“Do not lie to me!”
Oestera’s lips curled back, her voice shaking as she yelled.
“I can feel it, Astra! What did you do?”
Astra stomped her foot.
“I did what you wouldn’t! I protected my sister!”
Lunelle’s ears filled with the hot rush of shame and agony, her head fogging over as she braced herself on the king’s chest. He could feel the pain swelling in her throat, the inky black shades of guilt rushing through her veins.
Her vision blurred as her mother and sister dragged one another down in a screaming match, the anger so thick she could taste the iron dripping from it and feel the sticky blood-soaked words land blow after blow.
Lunelle could have stepped in. She could have stopped her mother. She could have begged Astra to abandon her protection of her, but she could not move. She was a statue, cursed to live within the confines of her stone walls for eternity.
Her mother stormed off, Astra’s face a mess with red blotches, her fingers clutched to her palms as the commander stepped to her side.
Mirquios pushed her forward, unwilling to let go of her, but desperate to get to his friend.
“Brother,”
Mirquios said, stepping into the courtyard.
Lunelle reached for her sister’s hand—her poor, singed fingertips warm with angry heat, fighting so hard to keep it all in. Astra’s eyes caught hers and it was as if she truly saw her younger sister for the first time.
Lunelle cleared her throat.
“Well. This is certainly more complicated.”
Her eyes fell on Luxuros’s hand, holding onto Astra’s arm for dear life. She knew, of course, that he loved her. She’d told him as much to his face. She was not sure if he knew just how deeply he’d fallen, but in the desperate grab for her, it was there. Pure devotion.
“Much more complicated.”
Astra shook off her stupor, pushing her shoulders back as she announced to them, “We need a new plan. A good one.”
“I’ll get coffee,”
Ameera said.
“The Solar heir,”
Lunelle whispered to herself, eyeing the commander once more. She should have seen it. There was something in the air of him, something that can only be bred by years of slapped wrists and sharp instruction. Something her sister had shirked at every chance. She smiled as she squeezed Astra’s hand.
“I suppose you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, sister.”
Astra gave a shallow laugh, but it did nothing to soften her fiery gaze.
“We’ll meet you in the Andromeda wing in a moment,” she said.
Mirquios gave a final pat to Luxuros’s shoulder and looped his hand through Lunelle’s. There was no sense in pretending at this point—Selenia had blown the court wide open with gossip much more intriguing.
They beat Ameera to the library, folding in on themselves on the sofas tucked in the back.
Mirquios broke the silence first with a startled laugh.
“This is not funny,”
Lunelle admonished him.
The king shook his head.
“No! It is not. I just… I stand a decent chance at losing a second Lunar princess to my best friend now.”
Lunelle winced.
“You’re terrible!”
“Yet you love me still,”
he whispered.
“I do,”
she exhaled, fiddling with the stars on her dress as her cheeks flushed with a pale pink.
“Luxuros told me of the news from Yallara.”
Mirq’s head tilted.
“Yes, what do you make of that?”
“I do not know what to make of anything,”
she said.
“Arcas gave no indication that he was of changing his mind the last time we—I saw him.”
Mirquios leaned closer to her, pressing his lips against her bare shoulder.
“You do not have to censor yourself for me, love. When did you… speak with him?”
He winked at her.
“Not since Astra struck her deal with Selenia. But surely he would have told me if anything had changed. He would have wanted me to know.”
Mirquios trailed over her shoulder and over her neck.
“Perhaps you were such an inspiring conversationalist that he could not help but make some different decisions.”
She looked at him, his bright eyes sparkling against her pale skin.
He enjoyed this. He liked the control she had over Arcas just as much as she did.
Lunelle leaned into him, resting her hand on his thigh.
“I do give a good speech,”
she whispered.
“A very motivational leader,”
Mirquois sighed as her fingers crawled up his leg.
“You’re all going to die tomorrow,”
Ameera announced as she burst into the library with a tray of tea and coffee.
“Perhaps we save the foreplay for after your sister Descends to the Nether and captures your dead aunt’s Soul for your probably-evil grandmother, hmm?”
Mirquios tossed his head back with a deep chuckle, moving away from Lunelle.
“I see why the commander likes you so much,” he said.
Astra and Luxuros followed, the commander’s eyes still sunken with the strange revelations of the evening.
“All right. We’ve got six hours and a ton of ground to cover,”
Astra declared, pushing Luxuros into one of the open armchairs.
“The newly crowned Solar prince here is damn near catatonic, so once Ameera fixes him one of her concoctions, we’re going to figure out how to destroy a goddess.”
Mirquios scoffed as Lunelle’s lips fell open, the instinct to protest consuming her, but Ameera beat her to it.
“Are you crazy?”
she barked.
“Of course she is,”
Lunelle laughed.
“But she’s also the only one of us who has a clue where to start.”
Astra grinned at her sister, her scarlet curls bouncing as she flopped onto a cushion in front of Lunelle, much like when they were girls and she wanted her hair braided.
Lunelle reached forward and absentmindedly pulled on one of Astra’s spirals as she spoke, wondering when she had acquired the thinnest strands of silver at the crown of her head—how it could be remotely possible that they were not still children playing coronation games in the garden.