Lunelle’s cheeks heated. “Are you not afraid of his lack of…” She searched for the word, her eyes landing on her book as if it might fly off the page. “Refinement? His court is in shambles, and he crumbled the second things got tense. Even Mirquios thinks him a mess.”
“Mirquios has been on his own throne for not even five years. You are all young and reckless in your own unique ways. And when he brings your sister back to his court, he’ll have his own shambles to contend with.”
Lunelle’s lips drew into a tight line. “I do not think that’s fair?—”
“You mistake my remark for criticism,” Oestera said. She did not elaborate as Lunelle waited in the silence.
She leaned her chin on her palm. “I will court him if you truly think it the most strategic option, but I do not find him to be a particularly compelling ruler, Mother.”
Oestera exhaled, something stirring within her gaze as she moved back toward the maidens waiting patiently.
She did not offer anything more to her daughter before dinner.
ChapterFive
Lunelle’s neck ached as she forced herself to listen to another round of debate between the courtiers.
They dined in the ballroom that evening, the doors scrolled back to let the pleasant breeze act as a sort of current, carrying them through the night despite the near-constant darting looks from guards and sentries of all backgrounds watching every door.
They had been deep in discussion all day, broken for the afternoon, and immediately resumed as dinner plates hit the table. Intercourt battalion placements, preemptive strikes, and intelligence gathered through any means necessary. All important considerations, of course, but not once had anyone brought up the glaring factor that kept her from being able to pull in a full breath.
War was going to cost lives, no matter how well-aligned their allegiances were.
She’d sat and listened to them argue back and forth all night before she finally caved and scooted her chair back from the table, ready to escape the tension for just a moment. Her mother’s eyes pressed into her back as she stepped from the dining hall onto the terrace, watching whichever Moons she could find as they danced in the night sky, reminding her of home.
In the cover of night, she could relax. She felt safe in the darkness.
In the Sun, she was much too exposed.
“I am better,” Arcas said from beside her. Lunelle felt the air tighten with his unnerving energy a moment ago, but she’d done her best to ignore it.
“What?” she asked, twisting to lean against the delicately carved marble banister overlooking another lush orchard.
His sapphire eyes did not meet hers, and instead examined the curled hem of her gown.
“You asked how I was. I am better. Not great, but better.”
Lunelle’s chin dipped in a shallow nod, processing the asynchronous conversation.
“You seem to be the troubled one this evening,” Arcas said.
“I fear we’re all too wrapped up in how to hold onto our power that we’ve neglected to consider who will pay the price of our war,” she said quietly, staring at her fingers as she twisted them around one another. “Not once has anyone ventured to discuss what allying with your court means for the Inner Court Army. They’ll suffer beyond anything the monarchs at that table ever will.”
The prince’s lips lifted in a crooked grin, so similar to that of her sister’s when she sensed something Lunelle couldn’t.
“I’m curious,” he said, pulling at the edge of his sleeve. “When you take the throne, what will be your first act?”
Lunelle’s eyes narrowed as Arcas circled her. “I suppose that depends on what happens here.”
“I suppose it does.”
Arcas leaned beside Lunelle, far enough away that he did not encroach on her space, a consideration she appreciated. His eyes swept the trees below, something she couldn’t identify bubbling just under the surface of his skin.
“What wouldyourfirst act be? If you ruled over all the sentiments and spirits of the Living Courts, if anything you did had a ripple effect across dreams and nightmares… what would it be?”
Arcas closed his eyes, just for a moment. His sky-blue knuckles rapped against the stone banister, gentle thuds matching the pace of her heart. Just when the silence became so heavy, so unbearably long that she was about to answer for him, he spoke.
“I’d crown someone else.”
