“We’re late.” Selenia swept out of the room as the woman trailed behind her.
Alastair clicked his tongue and tilted his head toward the door, offering his arm.
Another “choice.”
She rested her hand on the crook of his elbow. He pulled her in tight, straightening her back as they slipped through the doors and into a brilliant courtyard. Glowing white lights hung from metallic trees. Gilded roses blossomed under the moonlight. The courtyard buzzed with gods, humans, and the in-between, all draped in various metallics and pastels.
Surrounding the courtyard were twelve thrones, carved with the names of each of the ancient gods the Living Courts prayed to. Only Neptune sat on his throne, his hair falling in watery waves as he picked something off a plate held by a young woman with pointed ears. The rest of the thrones were empty, their gods mingling amongst the crowd.
“You seem confused,” Alastair said as Selenia disappeared into the crowd with the Elven woman hot on her heels.
“It’s not how I pictured it.” Astra took in the rest of the courtyard. “They seem so… similar to us.”
“Gods are only what we make them,” Alastair said quietly. “You’d do well to remember that.”
Her eyes scanned the thrones one more time, catching on a thirteenth behind the Solar and Lunar thrones.
“Is that for the Nether Queen?”
“You ask all the wrong questions. Stay on my arm, do not talk to anyone if you can help it, and I’ll get you back to your little boyfriend in no time,” Alastair muttered, low enough for only her ears. Her eyes widened, his wicked sneer gone. His eyes softened, and his smile was genuine.
“What—”
“Your life depends on your acting skills here. You might be a fearsome creature in the Lunar Court, but the Court Above will eat you alive if you give them any shred of anxiety to feed on,” he said from the side of his mouth as he pulled her through the crowd and toward a marble bar laden with foods and wines. He plucked two goblets from the spread and placed one in Astra’s hand, whispering into her ear, “I apologize in advance for the next hour. I’m afraid I’m going to be a bit of a bastard.”
She sipped the wine, the bitter liquid slipping over her lips easily as he rounded the center of the courtyard where a mass huddled. A trio of strings and a mesmerizing harpist played through an enchanting melody. They listened as she followed his lead and drained the wine, letting it bolster the fog around her head into a warm wave, rolling over her bare shoulders.
Selenia stood across from them as they took in the sweet notes, her eyes trained on Alastair, a slight nod communicating something Astra couldn’t understand.
But, as he plucked the goblet from her hand and dropped it onto a garden table, she knew what came next. The strings sang a new melody, and her hand floated upward as Alastair pulled her to the center of the floor, dozens of eyes sizing her up. Several other couples joined as he spun her around, the silk skirt sliding against the dance floor.
“Smile, Astra,” he whispered. “You’re a spectacle to the gods. Their humanity died centuries ago, they’ll lap up fresh blood eagerly.” Then he did something unexpected—he lowered his guard. A careful concoction of confidence and charm slithered off of him, warming her as they turned again. He leaned in close. “Better?”
She nodded.
He turned her in a half-circle, pushing her back against his chest, perfectly aligning his lips to her ear. “She’s going to make you a deal. Take it.”
Astra faced the crowd. Like living marble statues, the Ascended gods and goddesses of all the courts assembled to watch—to judge. Most of them had made their triumphant Ascent to the Court Above centuries ago. They’d long forgotten what the rush of red blood beneath flesh even felt like. Liquid gold slipped through their veins now.
They watched like they knew who she was, knew what she was.
She turned her face toward him so they couldn’t read her lips, though she wondered if that mattered here.
“Why should I trust you, Alastair?”
He lifted his arm, twirling her in a full circle, facing her once again.
“Have you forgotten who you are, Fire Queen? What does your intuition tell you?”
He was right. Just like Lux had been when they met all those months ago. Nothing screamed to run from his arms. Nothing within his spirit felt like a threat. Something about the way he moved, the way he felt, was so familiar. As if they were crafted from the same dust.
“Who are you?”
“You’ve never heard of me?” He chuckled, bowing to her as their dance concluded. He moved back, looping her arm through his again, pulling her back into the crowd and weaving between prying eyes. “Alastair Obyss. Right Hand to the Lunar Goddess, Weaver of Dreams.”
“Sorry.” Astra watched two goddesses whisper as she passed. “I’m unfamiliar.”
He sighed. “That’s disappointing. You Lunarians have been robbed of all your fun.”
