She leaned toward the fire as she read, something about just seeing Selenia’s name in conjunction with The Flare chilled her to her bones.
“Princess,” Lura whispered, but it was too late, someone was already bursting into her room.
“Arcas!” Lunelle gasped, shoving her book aside and flipping it face down on the coffee table by the fire. The prince was paler than usual, his cerulean hues retreating for an icy shade.
“Might I speak with you privately, Princess?” His eyes flickered to Lura, who gracefully bowed her head and backed out of the room.
Lunelle rose from the sofa, smoothing her gown. She’d seen him at breakfast, a quiet smile passing between them, but he’d given her generous space—unlike the night before.
She supposed it was time to put her first decision to work.
“Lunelle,” Arcas said, tightly. “I was going to wait until I discussed this with the queen, however, I was hoping to get clarity from you last night, and we got distracted…”
Arcas moved closer to her, his hands clenched at the adrenaline coursing through his veins. She could sense it, nearly see it rippling from him.
“I seem to always be distracted by you in some sense.”
She braced herself—and vaguely wondered if bracing oneself for a marriage proposal was a good omen—but the question did not come.
His gaze swept over the table, catching on something Lunelle’s had not.
A dagger piercing a crown, lightly etched over the back page, dancing beneath the firelight.
“What is that?”
His tone was frigid, every muscle in his back pulled taut as he stepped toward the table.
“Arcas—”
Lunelle was unsure of the smart thing to do—what her mother would do.
Her mother, she realized, would have been too smart to be speaking to the rebels in the first place.
“Where did you get this?” His cold gaze turned on her, sending a bolt of ice straight to her heart.
“I-I was sent it. It piqued my curiosity.”
Arcas tilted his head. “Do you have any idea how dangerous these people are, Lunelle?”
She snorted. There it was—the way out of this.
Play dumb, as if she were just a clueless princess—because that’s all she was to him in the end.
“It was left for me, Arcas. I was merely curious. Don’t you wish to know what your people are reading?”
“I wish to purge my city of every last one of these arrogant fools,” he muttered, snatching the manuscript from the table. “This is a curse upon our necks, Lunelle. It will be what sends us both to our graves. Don’t you see that?”
Lunelle shook her head. “Aren’t you even a little sympathetic to their perspective?”
His head tilted, his entire view of her crumbling in a moment—she could see it in his eyes.
“How many pages did it take to poison your mind? You, who knows so much more than the average citizen. You, the steward of sentiment and feeling—and a few pieces of propaganda is all it takes. Imagine what will happen if we continue to let the poison spread!”
He stepped closer, the anger fading from his bones, but it only seeped out into the space between them. His hand dropped, and a flutter of pages and flame flared beside them as the manuscript landed in the fire with a hiss.
She held her breath, her face frozen in the careful mask her mother had sculpted out of her for years.
“For centuries, people have cried out against injustice because they think there is some mythical happiness that lies on the other side of revolution. But they fail to account for so much, Princess. They’ve no respect for what the crown sacrifices on their behalf. The damage to our shoulders that the weight of the worlds does over time. They think it must be easy, a life of luxury. But you’ve seen how untrue that is, I’m sure.”
