As the crowd danced on, she felt herself bloom into the movement, shedding a thick layer of regal posture, taking up behind Yallara and amongst the Venusians and Earthens. The catacombs teemed with life that once was and life that still would be, a thought that simmered against her skin as they passed under the heart of the city and beyond the walls, climbing cobbled steps into the night and onto the rocky shores of the Hydranian Sea.
The drums faded into the sea breeze and crashing waves beneath the cliffs. Hundreds, maybe thousands of festival goers—Lunelle could hardly see the edge of the crowd—danced along the edges. Goblets of wine and fruit lay on tables adorned with white blossoms, releasing sweet perfume into the air, mingling with sweat and sea and starlight. Blue-flamed bonfires freckled the cliffside, sending sparkling sapphire embers into the velvet sky.
Yallara giggled as she led her guests to a table at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the black sea below. Lunelle’s stomach churned, a dark thought rattling around in her lungs. What might it feel like to leave the edge of this world for the next?
She slid into a chair decorated with runes and a garland of white blossoms spilling to the dark dust beneath them. Yallara hardly touched her chair before she was up again, falling into the arms of a masked courtier and spinning with him into the center of the festival, where dozens of couples twirled to a more robust offering of sounds now. Strings, drums, flutes, a harp. They sang together into one hypnotic melody.
Lunelle reached across the table and grabbed a large chunk of stibnite, heavy in her palm. It sparked against her, two forces between them colliding.
“It’s quite something,” Mirquios said as he sat beside her, waving over the cliff’s edge and to the dancers. She watched the fire inside her crystal dance, wondering if he saw it too, or if it was all in her head. “The Plutonians in my court do their own version of this, though on a much less grand scale.”
Lunelle twisted toward him, the white of his mask contrasting beautifully against his dark complexion. She’d understood her sister’s initial attraction to the king, but she hadn’t ever really taken a moment to observe the way his eyes lit from somewhere deep within, much like her crystal. She held it up to him.
“Do you see that?”
The king leaned forward, tilting his head. “The glow?”
She smiled. She was not losing her wits, then. He stretched out his hand and she set it into his palm as his lips parted. The king laughed.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to dance, but I appreciate your willingness to share your trinkets.”
Her nose scrunched, the pale silver spots across the bridge of it contracting and exploding into a constellation across her blushing cheeks.
“Do you have pockets?” she asked.
“Pardon, Princess?”
“I like this crystal. I don’t want to lose it, but I do want to dance.”
Mirquios nodded, rising and stuffing the iridescent stone into his silver jacket pocket and holding out his hand once more. His touch was warmer than Arcas and Yallara’s, their proximity to death pushing them closer to her own chilled nerves, she suspected.
She wove them through the dense crowd, finding a space near Yallara as the drums picked up. Mirquios waited for her to lead, but her eyes widened as she watched the other dancers.
“I’m afraid I’ve spent my entire life learning every dance known to the courts… but this one does not seem to have rules!”
Mirquios watched Yallara for a moment, recognizing one of the folk dances he’d seen time and again in his Earthen station.
“Follow me,” he called out over the drums, taking her hand and walking her in a wide circle around him. As she passed before him, he spun her quickly, her silver waves loose around her face instead of bound tightly into a braid. He released her hand and held his palm up between them, his eyes darting quickly to hers. They clasped their hands together as they circled one another before he closed his hand over hers and twirled her again, catching her in his arms.
Mirquios pulled her close—closer than she was prepared for. He leaned forward, dropping her back into a slow fall, her stomach tying itself into a knot. He paused for just a breath before sweeping her up and into a series of rapid spins around the swirling crowd.
“It’s so fast!” Lunelle giggled as he held one hand over his head and the other to their sides, twisting her so she faced away from him as they hopped toward and away from one another in time with the drums.
“Hold on,” Mirquios bellowed as he threw her into another series of bouncing spins in the opposite direction. Lunelle’s foot wobbled in the dust as they raced toward the center, a laugh escaping her chest as the king caught her, pulling her by the elbow into his chest.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to right herself as dancers brushed against them.
“Do not apologize, Princess. I was wondering if you Lunarians had any flaws—it seems you’re half-human after all.”
The king grinned at her, her eyes stuck on his, something foreign in her chest clicking into place and releasing a chill over her lungs.
A chill that soured the moment she registered its implications.
“Lunelle!” Yallara cut through the dancers, reaching for her hand. “They’re going to Descend!”
“What?” she gasped.
“The divers!” she yelled, pointing toward the cliffs.
