“Just for tonight, I want to hold you like I wish I had on the Equinox. Before.”
“Before?”
He nodded, pulling her backward, the garden around them swirling into a blur of greens and purples. They fell onto a soft bed, a lush black silk canopy falling over them, stars vibrating with a soft glow.
“Before,” he said again, beside her now, draping his arm over her hips as she curled into him. She laid a hand on his face, his eyes closed against the pressure, afraid to see where his vulnerability landed him.
Before Fate struck, damning her into an irrevocable attachment without a choice, he meant. When Astra was just her, asking just him to stay in the dark of night, no cosmic obligation.
Tomorrow, he would end it all, just as confident that he was right as she was sure he was wrong.
They lay under the canopy, neither of them speaking.
Sun and Moon, bound by Fate, broken by blood.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
The ache of waking without him tugged at her muscles, every space between bone and cartilage yearning to stretch, but there was nowhere to spread out.
Astra hadn’t heard a word said at breakfast until her mother dropped her fork and turned her eyes on Astra from across the table.
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Astra.” She looked around the table. Father, Lunelle, Mirquios, and Tula watched.
“I did not sleep well.” Reaching for her coffee cup, Astra sipped and prayed to whatever god had not yet abandoned her that it would be enough to move on.
“Something on your mind?” Nayson asked.
“Never.” She grinned, but she knew her eyes did not reflect the curve of her lips.
“I’m sure you’ll perk up in time for your wedding gown fitting this afternoon,” Oestera sighed. Astra felt the lurch within both Mirquios and Lunelle’s chests.
“Some coffee and a little fresh air, I’ll be the portrait of a glowing bride,” she insisted, squeezing Mirquios’s hand over the table, the movement purely for show.
Easy now, Princess, she shot at Lunelle as her cheeks reddened.
You have no idea how difficult it is, Astra.
Astra set her eyes on Lunelle as she pulled her hand away, I’m sorry, Lu, but until we have a better plan…
She sighed, leaning her chin in her hand. Oestera huffed, “Oh, not you, too.”
“Sorry,” Lunelle said, straightening her back and moving her silver hair from one shoulder to the other, deflecting from the blush creeping over her neck.
Breakfast passed slowly, agonizingly so, but as the table cleared and everyone went on their merry way, Astra lingered behind. It occurred to her sometime between staring at the ceiling and staring at the wall that Lux was right about talking to her mother. She had never outright asked Oestera what happened during The Flare. She’d thought about it all morning—if she implied Selenia was involved, perhaps she’d jump to her defense. Slip somehow.
It was mostly out of politeness that Astra never asked her or anyone else who was alive for it. Lunelle was only a small child when it happened and even her mouth ran dry when the topic came up.
“May I speak with you, Mother?”
“Of course,” she agreed, setting down her tea. She nodded to her maidens, permitting them to take their leave. Nayson eyed his daughter carefully as she tilted her head toward the door. He was happy to exit the conversation.
“What is it?” She looked so tired of Astra already.
“I had a dream last night. It was unsettling, and I would keep it to myself, but I fear it might mean something. I was hoping you could help me separate fact from fiction.”
Oestera’s grip on her emotions slipped for just a moment, a bright orange flame of fear shooting from her navel to her throat, but before it could force anything from her lips, it smoldered.
