“I knew it,” Astra said. “Scandalous.”
“I’ve been called much worse, Princess.” The king slid his hand behind her back as the orchestra worked up to a crescendo, brilliant notes suspended in the air between them.
“Astra,” she said, her breath tight. “I hate being called Princess.” She spun one more time as the music crawled to a soft finish, a final high note ringing out as the dancers stalled.
The king stared a hole right through her, that same cerulean curiosity from the night before welling up in his chest. “I wonder how you would feel about being called ‘Queen’?”
Astra raised a brow, completely unprepared for such a forward question. He bowed as a rush of strange colors pooled in her stomach. She considered following him as he wove his way back into the crowd, but her mother was already cutting across the floor, her hand attached to yet another dignitary.
“Kahlia Artemi,” she announced, slipping a golden hand into hers. “High Regent of Venus.” Astra barely looked at the figure as she pulled them out onto the dance floor, shaking off the thrill of his question as the music started again, this time a spirited group dance. A hazy rose glow settled around them as they stepped in time with the strings. Kahlia was tall, with a thin, ethereal structure to their frame. Gleaming gold braids rained over their shoulders, their cheekbones jutted out with the same sharpness she recognized in Ameera’s countenance. Golden freckles bedazzled the smooth planes of their face, a lovely mark left by their time in the Sun.
“So lovely to finally meet you, Princess,” they cooed as they dipped their head toward the floor, ducking beneath the arms of other courtiers. That sweet rose color carried into an aroma that flooded Astra’s senses, drowning any logical line of thinking she might have been able to hold on to in such a crowded space.
Unlike the king, who Astra imagined had been quite calculated in what he allowed her to ascertain of his emotions, Kahlia took full advantage of her abilities to perceive feeling. Her head felt light as they turned, meeting in the middle of two lines to wrap up in each other’s arms before breaking again.
She’d studied the Inner Courts in depth. Naturally, she’d gravitated toward Venus, intrigued by Ameera’s home court. Devoted to the Goddess of Love, she knew Venusians held a potent ability to seduce and attract, but she’d not taken it seriously. Reading about it was one thing, but experiencing it was another entirely.
Her eyes snapped upward as she heard her mother’s laugh from the edge of the ballroom, gesturing toward her as she spoke with the Martian prince.
Kahlia was not just charming her, Mirquios wasn’t flirting.
They were courting her.
All of them.
Ameera had been right, as usual. This wasn’t a solstice ball or a birthday celebration—it was an auction.
The sharp knot of betrayal in her gut tightened, a violet flood pushing the air from her lungs. Kahlia whisked her from one end of the floor to another as she played back her conversation with her mother in her mind.
Who had she told her to focus on? Omnir?
Kahlia leaned closer, the rose haze making it hard to breathe.
You need air! Lunelle’s voice pulled Astra from under the rosy tide. Gods, she was right. She could barely get her head above Kahlia’s spell.
“Thank you for the dance,” she gasped. They bowed to her and before Oestera could push her into the arms of Mother Nature or Prince Omnir, she darted into the crowd in search of her sister.
“She’s marrying me off!” Astra hissed when she found Lunelle. Her sister did not respond. Instead, she pulled her hands toward the edge of the ballroom.
The courtiers buzzed, the colors and textures of their thoughts and opinions ringing in Astra’s ears as she lost control over her perception. Their emotions became hers—excitement, curiosity, and judgment bubbling to life in her lungs.
She should have spent more time mentally preparing for court life. She hadn’t considered how difficult it would be in a crowd. She should have read between her mother’s lines the other day, should have known that this would be her plan. Her intuition should have screamed at her the moment the note pulled her away from Celene.
Maybe it had. Maybe she’d ignored it. Fuck.
“You need to breathe, As,” Lunelle called out over the crowd. “I’ll cover for you, get out of the chaos.”
Astra could try to fight the rising bile in her throat, muscle through the fire igniting in her veins. Or she could slip beyond the arch and into the cool night air and shake off the pain in her fingertips.
“I’ll be back,” she huffed.
If she stayed, she risked showing everyone just how brightly the Fire Queen could burn.
Chapter
Seven
Moonblossoms dripped from ancient terraces, releasing a sweet perfume that stuck to her skin.
