“Of course,” she whispered, hating each letter as it left her lips. “You’re right.”
He held her stare for a moment longer, the edges of him softening as he found no threat on her tongue.
“This evening,” Arcas said, exhaling as he reached for her hand. “If you find yourself not sleeping again…”
Lunelle flinched as he said it, but she nodded despite it. It was better than the question she feared he’d come to ask. She nodded anyway.
“Excellent,” he said quietly, sliding closer to her. He pitched forward, dropping his lips to hers in a kiss not much warmer than his tone had been just moments before.
Last night, she’d allowed herself to believe he was something else—something salvageable.
But as he kissed her, her decision crystallized in her chest. Arcas had no place in her court—but the people he’d just thrown into the fire did.
And she’d be damned to the Nether for eternity before finding herself on the side that burned the truth to keep their boots on the necks of the people who served them.
“Lunelle,”Oestera called as they passed one another in the hall. “I’ve not seen you all day!”
“Sorry, Mother,” Lunelle said, spinning on her heels to walk with her, wherever she was headed.
“You seem tense, darling.”
The term of endearment made her flinch.
“I’ve been listening to men bark at one another for weeks over minute issues that don’t serve anyone at large. What else should I be?”
Oestera snorted but quickly settled herself. “I hope we’re returning home soon. I don’t know how much more I can take, either.”
“Mother?” Lunelle stopped in the hallway, her mother turning with an arched brow. Her maidens stopped and stepped back, giving them space. “Are you certain about Arcas?”
Oestera’s eyes measured all the things Lunelle wasn’t saying, weighing them one by one.
“Are you not?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
“We don’t have to make any decisions today, Lunelle. Perhaps we need more time to better understand your hesitations.”
Lunelle hadn’t expected such a reasonable answer from her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Oestera rested a hand on Lunelle’s shoulder.
“My conversations with the prince have been promising, for what it’s worth.”
Lunelle wanted to shout that it was worth nothing, that he was too arrogant, too scared, too rooted in his father’s ways to be reasoned with, but how could she explain all of that to her mother without confessing to her newfound affinity for the rebels?
“I had another question,” Lunelle said, barely audible. She leaned close to her mother, aware that the hall was not the ideal place to discuss Selenia. “The Flare…”
Oestera’s face drained of color. It was such a sensitive topic—one they hardly broached, despite Lunelle’s earliest memories forged in its blinding light.
“The Plutonians seem to believe that your mother was present in Solaris?—”
“Princess!” Yallara moved through the hall, a billowing sapphire gown flowing behind her as her courtiers chased her. “You must come with us, we have a Descendant here!”
Lunelle glanced at her mother, who squeezed her arm and bowed out of the conversation.
Godsdammit.
