“That’s that!” Lunelle chirped, blushing as her mother glared.
“This is the least of your challenges, darling.”
She sighed, stepping forward onto the moonstone platform, the amethyst gate arching overhead. “And we’ll only be there for a week or two?”
“One can hope,” Oestera muttered. “But diplomacy takes time.”
“Of course,” she huffed.
“At your leisure, my dear,” Oestera said, holding her hand before her.
Lunelle edged toward the end of the platform, the Rift’s sweeping colors brushing against the toe of her slippers. She held her breath, twisted, and let herself go, soaring across The System with her eyes closed.
“Grab the thread, Lunelle!” Her mother’s voice echoed against the strands of light. She forced her eyes open, two threads over her head in sparkling shades of blue.
“Which blue?” she yelled, but no one answered.
Her eyes darted from the lighter to the darker. Something within her called out to the latter, begging her to touch the dark-as-night sapphire glimmer.
She reached out and wrapped her silver fingers around the thread, and she was gone.
ChapterTwo
Two dozen sapphire roses watched Lunelle from the center of a dazzling floral arrangement as she stepped into what would be the Lunarians’ shared study for the foreseeable future.
As far as she could tell, just about everything in the Plutonian palace was some shade of blue—from the oceanic tile of the floor to the deep navy sofas, to the delicate cerulean hue the Plutonians themselves seemed to carry within their complexions.
She did not think the color suited her.
“I meant what I said earlier,” her mother hummed, pulling the fingertips of her gloves off as their maidens flooded the room and began unpacking trunks. “The Sun is not to be underestimated. You’ll want to stay indoors as much as possible, dear. If you do go out, make sure you’re covered.”
Oestera sat softly on the plush sofa in the middle of their shared study—a silver star amidst a navy velvet sky—her cheeks still flushed from their jarring trip through the Rift. Lunelle knew she hadn’t taken it in years, but some memories never left one’s musculature. She had marveled at her mother’s gracious fall into the mystical portal she’d only ever heard whispers of, having been forbidden from ever leaving the bounds of the Lunar Court.
Oestera had simply given herself over to the flow of the strange threads, reaching for a deep navy as the colors of each of the courts poured into a ceaseless mirage.
Oestera had landed just as gracefully on the dull gray stone of the last of the Living Courts, Pluto. The Plutonian Gate was much darker and less crystalline than the sparkling amethyst of the Lunarian Gate Lunelle had spent thirty-some years staring at through her window, but there was something embedded in the stones that buzzed against her feet.
Something lurking in the shadows of the halls.
“Princess,” Lura said. She slipped an envelope into Lunelle’s slender fingers. Under the Moon of the Lunar Court, her silvery complexion sparkled from the celestial energy. Here, she feared she was taking on the morose blues of the palace walls. “It’s an invitation to a welcome tea, hosted by the Plutonian princess, Yallara. It seems the younger monarchs will be there.”
Oestera looked to Lunelle. The decision was hers.
“I could go for tea,” she murmured, her eyes slipping toward the window at the far edge of the room. A sunbeam sliced through the silken curtains and traced a bright line across the dark furniture. “I suppose the sooner I get to know our hosts, the better.”
“Tea it is,” Oestera nodded. “It would be good to get some face time with the princess. Perhaps the prince will attend.”
Lunelle’s spine tingled. She’d spent the last two days in meeting after meeting about the prince and his court. Arcas was unmarried, and therefore unable to take the Plutonian throne according to their laws, which would have been fine if his father hadn’t passed unexpectedly a few months prior. The instability, combined with Pluto’s modest offerings when it came to resources, made them a burden on the Outer Courts as they prepared for war under the Solar king Solan’s regime.
He’d hardly gotten his feet under him before Solan removed Pluto from the alliance. Arcas was young, alone, and frightened—a lethal combination in men as far as Lunelle understood.
“Perhaps,” she replied flatly, her nerves flaring in rivers along her skin. She reached out to touch a rose petal, marveling at the spread of the bloom under the Sun’s touch. At home, the moonblossoms and roses ruffled quietly in the Spring and Summer. Now, she realized, they were mere buds compared to the expansive swirls in the vase, each bigger than her palm.
What else does not reach its full potential, hidden in the dark of night?she thought to herself as Lura preened over her hair, weaving it into an intricate braid.
“Go along,” Oestera chirped from the sofa, her eyes already set on her notes from her ambassadors. “And don’t be shy, darling, you’re just months away from ruling one of the strongest courts in the entire system. Don’t let them forget it.”
Lunelle sighed, pulling her braid to one side and picking at the silk cord holding it together as she wandered into the hall.
