“Princess?” Ameera’s voice cut between them, an interruption they were both silently grateful for.
“Ameera!” Mirquios boomed, a little too enthusiastically. He reached for the back of his neck, the relief visible as the colors within him straightened out. “I should get back,” he muttered, pointing toward the tent.
“Of course,” Astra replied, eyes cast at the water below them. Ameera’s eyes flickered between them, unsure how to proceed.
“Your Highness,” she bowed as Mirquios darted back toward the beach.
“Good evening!” He called over his shoulder.
“Oh!” Ameera cried, stepping on something in the shallows. She stooped and snagged a thin gold chain from the water. “Is this either of yours?”
A twist of ruby alarm gripped the king’s chest. “Yes,” he hesitated to say. “Yes, that is… mine. I suppose I’m on the right path, then?” He looked at Astra and gestured toward it. “You know what, why don’t you keep it, Princess? A gift.”
“Oh, um, yes, thank you,” Astra said, pulling at the bodice of her dress. Mirquios trotted through the surf, disappearing up the shore.
That was the worst kiss I’ve ever seen. Ameera snorted, the amusement tickling her lungs.
Astra gasped, “Ameera!”
“You have better chemistry with Riverion.”
“Mother smite me, Ameera, that’s foul,” Astra hissed. But she couldn’t help herself. The harsh sound faded into a giggle.
Ameera rested a hand on her forearm. “There’s always the Martian child. In five, maybe ten years he just might know where to find?—”
“Absolutely not!” Astra choked. “I left education in my maidenhood, thank you.”
Ameera shrugged beside Astra as she drowned in midnight blue misery. It was the worst kiss she’d ever had, and she’d had some weak starts.
She spent the next thirty minutes searching the shallows for her offering, dreading that it might show up.
Dreading that it wouldn’t.
It did not reappear before she finally gave in to her exhaustion and fell into bed.
“Princess,” a deep voice thundered over Astra’s shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
She twisted, a sudden heat sending a sheet of sweat rolling down her back. The sand on her astral plane sparkled like crushed diamonds instead of the grainy beige she shook from her dress before bed. She dragged a finger through the coarse glitter, leaving a trail as warm waves lapped at her feet.
“I thought I knew,” she whispered. “But the gods don’t seem to agree.”
The voice scoffed. “You didn’t strike me as someone who gave a single shit about what the gods desire.”
Astra woke with a start, a lingering heat in her skin, drowning her throughout breakfast.
Chapter
Nine
You’re being weird.
Lunelle’s voice broke Astra’s staring contest with her coffee cup—and she was so close to winning.
“I’m sorry,” Astra answered aloud, unable to muster the energy for anything else. She barely slept after last night’s events. Her heart was too tangled up in seawater and conflicted feelings. That, and she’d gotten up just before moonrise to search the expanse of the sandy Empyrean shore for a small velvet bag that neglected to make its way back to her.
She shook the thought from her head. Perhaps she hadn’t been clear enough—too afraid to really demand what she wanted. Perhaps the Court Above simply couldn’t watch her suffer a lifetime of sterile, passionless kissing.
The gods had not been particularly merciful to her so far, but maybe this was their way of making it up to her.
