“Have the divination laws changed in my time away?” She smirked, knowing her disingenuous question would not be well received. She knew as well as any of the other women gathered around the table that the rules banning the use of intuitive magic didn’t matter when the queen’s mission was at stake.
Oestera’s brows knit together. “Astra.” A warning. The only one she’d get.
“Don’t touch it,” Lunelle whispered, leaning away from the object as Astra stretched forward and pulled at the cloth’s edge beneath the orb, dragging it closer to her.
Oestera stared as her daughter observed the object’s weight in her mind, holding it as best she could to understand it. Though Oestera would never display the vermillion concern building in her chest, Astra appreciated she still felt it at all.
The warmth radiating from the object repelled and intrigued Astra in ways she did not quite understand. The heat was offensive as it crashed against her cold Lunarian skin. Even with the flames that ran through her blood, she found it too foreign—too other.
A buzzing wave radiated from its center, rolling over itself again and again. As she let it reach out and stroke her cheek, she realized it wasn’t just a vibrating sound, but a distant melody, garbled through gods only knew how many dimensions. The echo of the strange muted music climbed the hall’s domed interior as the rhythm slowed to a hypnotic lull.
Who are you? She asked it as if it would answer. It might. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.
Images flickered across Astra’s mind. A man’s hands, deep bronze with thick, leather bands around his wrists, cupped the orb in the cover of night—the same obsidian sky they sat under now. He peered into the orb, his face warped around the curvature of the glass, and he asked it a question in a language she’d never heard—the musical lilt did something strange to her chest.
She couldn’t understand the string of words, but she felt their request as the innards of the crystal ball swirled and twisted through space and time, stopping within the gates of a village she knew all too well.
A village perched just outside of Celene, alive with morning chores and activity. Women laughed in the center of the town, balancing baskets of fruit on their heads and hanging laundry.
It was a facade, a carefully curated one to protect the real Celene carved into the cliffs below. If anyone went searching for the long-forgotten city, they’d see the crumbling village and assume that’s all it offered.
And there, under a gnarled oak in the Midwood, sat Astra in a black morning dress, tucked gently around her knees as she read from a poetry anthology just this morning, surely no more than an hour or two before the queen sent for her.
Astra’s heart lurched as she realized the ball had been used to locate something—not just something, her. She pushed the object away, glancing from her sister’s concerned expressions to her mother’s waiting eyes.
Her mother tilted forward. “What is it?”
“Are you okay?” Lunelle asked.
“I can’t be certain,” Astra mumbled. She worked to keep her voice even. “It’s some sort of divination tool that locates things—people. The user stared at it and said something in a language I didn’t recognize. It swirled and showed him what he asked for.”
“What did it show?” Archera studied Astra’s face as she stilled her mind again, unsure if she should be honest. She searched her body, begging her muscles to tell her what the consequences might be if she were honest. What they’d be if she weren’t.
“The Midwood,” she said hesitantly. The wound she’d earned on her way in ached as she crossed her arms over her chest. Had a Solarian fired that arrow? “A village not far into the woods, near the Somnia’s bank.”
Oestera asked, “Did you see who wielded it?”
Astra turned toward her. “No, his face was warped in the reflection. But his skin glowed a golden bronze. He had cuffs around his wrists.”
“Solarian,” Archera said, looking at her second-in-command beside her.
Oestera’s eyes snapped to her. “This is exactly what I was worried about after Ellume’s little stunt at the Equinox. I should have sent you down to check on the wards in person. We can’t trust their High Priestess. I want every corner of the Midwood searched. We’re either looking at a leak in the Rift or a traitor in the court. Neither is acceptable.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Archera mumbled, scooting her chair back from the table. “Can you draw me a map of the village, Princess?”
“I could go with you?—”
“You’re needed here,” Oestera cut her daughter off.
“Ameera can guide you. She knows it,” Astra muttered, a red anger crawling up her throat.
“Excellent.” Oestera moved on. “If this is connected to the rumors we’ve heard of rebels in the woods, we’ll need to be careful with the girls.” Archera nodded as Astra shrank in her seat.
A normal day in the court was restrictive enough, but with heightened anxiety around her safety?
Misery.
“Rebels?” She asked.
