If you were here, you’d have whipped this entire court into shape already, she sent out into the ether. She had no idea if her sister was capable of hearing her over the distance, but it brought her comfort to reach out all the same.
The Plutonian palacewas entirely unlike the glittering halls Lunelle grew up in.
Everything in Lunaria was fractured into crystalline angles and opalescent haze. The Moon’s light bounced off odd angles and shiny surfaces, bathing everyone in a mystic glow.
Pluto was all smooth, round stones and sapphire velvet.
She followed Lura and one of Pluto’s courtiers, a slim boy easily half her age, through endless twisting paths until she felt a shift in the air—a warmth she did not recognize.
“Oh,” she breathed as the courtier drew back flowing white curtains, revealing a Sun-soaked garden rich in the same blue roses she’d marveled at moments ago. Dozens of dignitaries milled about, lounging on wicker furniture and overstuffed cushions on the fluffy grass.
They sipped tea and snacked, relaxed in ways they’d not seemed capable of in the Lunar Court. She lingered at the edge of the garden, unsure how to best insert herself into the small groupings lounging across the lawn. Her eyes fell to a harpist in the corner, her fingers the same shade of the sky above, weaving between cords to sing a soothing melody.
“Princess.”
She’d only heard the Mercurian king’s deep voice from a distance, and often only in low whispers to her sister over dinner.
They’d crossed paths a few times in Lunaria, but never at her own wishes. She’d avoided him, she was sure Astra had noticed. Mirquios seemed fine enough, but he was still the thing that was going to take her sister away from her far too soon.
At that moment, however, he was a friendly face—and she needed that more than she needed to hold a childish grudge.
“Your Highness,” she smiled, stepping closer to him as he plucked a tea cake off a passing tray. She turned to face him, his tall frame hovering over her, wrapped in Mercurian greens that lit up his deep complexion.
She had been surprised when her sister’s amber gaze lingered on the king’s broad chest and bright jade eyes at the Solstice ball—not because he wasn’t handsome by all definitions of the word, but because Astra had rarely, if ever, given her attention to a man.
But, close up, unable to escape from the gracious lines of his regal posture and his easy warmth, Lunelle understood the appeal.
“How were your travels?” he asked through a bite of the cake.
“Quite the trip,” she replied, stretching her shoulders as she spoke. “I’d never taken the Rift before.”
Mirquios laughed. “That’s right! You and your poor sister, shackled to the palace like that.”
She shook her head as a servant offered her something blue on a plate. “I don’t know what I expected of Pluto, but I suppose something less… ornate.” She gestured to the surrounding garden, dripping in rich colors and opulent fabrics.
“Oh, Arcas certainly has more than he can handle here,” Mirquios mumbled. “It’s a bit much for those of us who are on the more conservative end with our finances, I suppose.”
She arched a silver brow, curious if he would say more.
“Not that Lunaria isn’t more than accommodating,” he amended. “I admire that you and your mother aren’t so ostentatious. Feels ill-advised given the state of things.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching for a cup of tea from a passing tray, just barely missing the curved handle. The servant turned too quickly, darting away as someone called to them.
Lunelle sighed.
Mirquios sprang forward, cutting across the garden with his long legs, and stopped the servant, snagging a steaming cup and saucer from the tray before turning back to her.
Lunelle’s cheeks flushed as she reached for it, uttering her thanks.
“Your sister said she’d never forgive me if I didn’t look out for you.”
“That sounds like Astra,” Lunelle laughed quietly, sipping the strange violet tea. Her head swirled with the porcelain’s contents, but she didn’tdislikeit. “I’m not as helpless as she implies, I assure you. I’m just not one to make a scene.”
Mirquios rocked forward on his heels. “There is nothing helpless about any of you Lunarian women. Of that, I am certain. There’s strength in silence, too, you know.”
Lunelle’s silver gaze flickered over him before it fixed back on the laughing courtiers on the lawn. “Do you think it’s a mistake? Trusting this prince?”
Mirquios considered her question for a moment before answering, the implications hovering in the air between them.
