Lunelle’s head cocked to one side. It was her turn to be surprised.
“You’re welcome,” she said reflexively.
“No, truly, Lunelle. Thank you for rattling me.” He leaned onto his elbows against the railing. “You are right, about many things, but especially about my need to grow up. I’m not a child. I’m a leader, and I’ve been scrambling to prove that to everyone but myself. If I don’t believe in myself, who should?”
Lunelle nodded, her eyes darting across the terrace as dinner ended and moved into more spirited pursuits. The high lilt of a flute bounced off the domed hall within, tickling something in her spine.
Arcas straightened, taller than she’d seen him before, his lips parting as he strung a question together.
“Would you like to dance, Princess?”
She glanced at his palm, reflecting the dark blues of the roses swimming against the night sky above, and surprised herself by resting her hand in his. She imagined he’d pull her into the hall, under the glimmering lanterns, but instead, he fell back on his heel, pulling her forward in a soft initiation, his hand gliding hers through the air in a wide circle as he spun her.
It was harder to hear any of the percussive elements of the music inside, but Lunelle did not have to fret about that.
Arcas was surprisingly capable of keeping time.
He wound her around and into him, carrying her hands on the slope of his forearms as he turned them about.
“I must admit, I’m curious. What else has the quiet taught you about me?”
Lunelle thought about this as he swept her away from the banister and into the shadows beyond the ballroom.
Where no one would stare, she realized.
“Do you really want to know?” she asked, her eyes locked to his.
“It’s hard to hurt a third son’s feelings, though you’ve come close this evening,” he chuckled.
She swayed along with him, turning over the notes she’d carefully collected in her head for anything particularly interesting. Yallara’s wounded face appeared in her mind, desperate for her brother to hear her out.
“You love your sister too much,” she shared, observing the flex in his jaw. “You inhibit her with your protective instincts. Any time she opens her mouth to speak, you dismiss her. But I believe it’s to keep her safe, not silent.”
Arcas snorted, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. “She hates it.”
“I know the temptation. I am an elder sibling, too. She’s young, but she cares, Arcas. Let her test the waters, she’ll learn to swim.”
He nodded as he spun her away from him, the delicate lace along her hem sweeping over his boots.
“What else?”
She chewed on her lip. “Hmm. Kahlia doesn’t respect you. You haven’t spent enough time appealing to their softer sensibilities. The Venusians are a people who worship at the altar of love herself, they need to see passion from you, they need to know you care deeply about your court and our cause.”
He considered this, his hand dropping around her waist as he twisted her in a tight arc, looping her arm over her head and spinning her again.
“One more,” he murmured.
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Lunelle laughed.
Arcas stopped her spin, holding her crystalline gaze as his fingertips grazed the seam at her waist.
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “Punish me, then.”
“I am sorry you lost your brothers,” Lunelle said quietly. “But the moment they Descended, you ceased to be a third son. The crown of Pluto rests on your head. You need to show us it rests on more than desperation.”
Arcas tucked his hands behind his back, his eyes flickering over the terrace as a quiet slope overtook his lips. The shadows from before retreated, giving way to the lights of the ballroom.
He swallowed, brushing his coat as he looked away from her.
