Lunelle dropped her hand from the king’s, trailing Yallara to the edge of the crowd where a dozen Plutonians in their festival whites teetered on the edge of the cliffs.
A priestess chanted from the far side, incense floating into the fathomless black below, her voice hardly rising over the surf.
Yallara leaned closer to her, looping her arm through Lunelle’s elbow.
In the way a sister might, she realized.
She closed her eyes as Yallara explained. “The Cliffs of Descent are a holy ground, where Proserpina tried to liberate herself from Pluto by jumping, only to drown and wake up right back in the underworld with him. Only those who are brave enough to risk the violent sea below get their reward from her spirit. They say it feels just like Descending. One horrifying step into the ether, and then the rest is just falling softly into the Mother’s arms.”
Lunelle bit her lip, twisting her fingers together as she watched the divers shed their masks, revealing themselves to Pluto as they faced his wrath in the hopes of earning Proserpina’s mercy.
The priestess stopped her song, and they tumbled like falling trees off the edge, a collective inhale from the crowd forcing her breath to stick in her throat.
She wondered as she watched their feet leave all they’d ever known behind for just a chance at what they wanted, if they felt terror shredding at their lungs, or if just the act of taking what they so desired was enough to quell it.
To silence the screaming.
She was still wondering as she stumbled back toward her bedchambers, her boots in her hands and mask askew as the Sun threatened to make its return.
“Lunelle!” The deep bass notes rattled in her chest as she twisted toward the king, that same thing against her ribs catching her off guard.
“Mirquios?”
“You forgot your rock,” he said, digging into his pocket and producing the shimmering jagged gem.
“It’s not just a rock,” she sighed, taking it.
He flashed a smile. “No, it’s stibnite. Connects you with your ancestors and past lives. Glows when certain Lunar demigoddesses touch it.”
She turned her gaze to his as he pulled his mask off.
“Goodnight,” she said, the crystal whirring to life in her hand.
“Good morning,” he chuckled, fading down the hall.
Lunelle forced a hard swallow, the lingering chill in her bones sending icy rivulets across her skin as she made her way into her bedroom. She collapsed onto the bed in a heap of silk and sparkle, feeling every bit a petulant child and not the grown leader she’d come to Pluto as.
Her final thoughts before succumbing to the thrill of the night’s activities returned to the divers and their desperation.
Perhaps tumbling over a cliff’s edge was preferable to the quiet betrayal she’d flirted with in the hall.
The Plutonian Palacewas even more blue in her dreams.
The walls sparkled as she wandered through them, the silver dress she hadn’t had the energy to strip off clinging to her curves. She ran her fingertips along the ancient stones, following a path she now knew well.
The library was empty, and she was somewhat annoyed at her own disappointment. She sat in the bay of the window, watching the silver pools trickle down the hill.
“Quite the gown,” he said.
Lunelle’s eyes slipped from the flowing silver pools to the library’s door, the pale blues of his face darkened by the late hour.
“You missed out on all the festivities,” Lunelle said, twisting in the cushioned bay to tuck her knees to her chest.
Arcas leaned against the doorway, crossing one ankle over the other.
“I find it… refreshing that you give my sister so much of your attention,” he said, brushing his fingertips along the soft gray linen of his shirt.
“No, you don’t,” Lunelle retorted, smirking as he mirrored her bemusement.
