She made it through Yallara’s first three lifetimes before she quietly slipped away, the stone burning a hole in her pocket.
ChapterFifteen
The stone was all she could think of.
It was all she saw the rest of the evening, those strange undulating waves within, taunting her. When she closed her eyes in her bed, the sharp edges found her, carving shallow scratches into her skin. She’d prayed to Proserpina, and to any other gods who might be listening, to give her the push she needed, but now that it was here, she was rooted and withering.
If she were younger, perhaps—a bit more brash, a bit less jaded—she wouldn’t have hesitated.
If she were Astra.
Fuck it,Lunelle thought as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped on the boots she’d never tucked away after Proserpina’s feast. She pulled a cloak from her trunk, yanking the hood low over her face.
“Lunelle?” Lura asked as the princess tied the ribbon.
“Do not stop me,” Lunelle said.
Lura grabbed her by the shoulders, her amethyst eyes fixed on her princess.
“I will not stop you, but I also must urge you to please be careful. Let me come?—”
“No. No,” Lunelle insisted. “I will do this alone. You saw how Arcas responded to the manuscript and the man from the first night. Imagine what he’d do to you—I cannot ask you to take that sort of risk.”
Lura relented, but Lunelle could feel her hesitation gnawing at her.
“Please, be careful.”
Lunelle only nodded, sweeping from the room as quickly as possible. The palace was quiet. It wasn’t so late that everyone had turned in for the night, but most eyes were either bleary with the sleep they craved or a haze of wine as they finished their card games and danced lazily under lowered lanterns.
It was easy for her to slip away, a shadow curling through the garden and onto the streets of Charon.
She took the same path she’d taken before, staying close to the sides of buildings and avoiding the streetlamps as much as possible. When she came to The Underground’s door, she released a tense breath. It was as if her body knew she was making the right choice, even if her heart was still bound by fearful black ribbons.
Kwan did not seem surprised to see her as she blew into the tavern, but hedidseem surprised by the wave of fury that preceded her as she held out her arm.
“I want in,” she barked.
“Good evening, Princess,” Kwan said quietly, his eyes flashing toward the door. Lunelle sank back on her hip, drawing her arm into her side. She’d assumed this was a safe house of sorts, which was a big assumption to make.
“Did you enjoy your reading material?” Kwan tilted his head toward the door to the stairs, walking slowly across the tavern as she followed.
“I didn’t get far before the prince destroyed it,” she said softly as they ascended the steps. As they crested the landing outside of his study, Lunelle set her face and balanced her shoulders. “I figure that anything which produces so much anxiety to those in power must be worth fighting for.”
“I feared what might happen if Arcas got his hands on it. I was foolish to think he might be tempted to educate himself,” Kwan said, tucking himself behind his desk.
“It’s a good thing we make copies.”
He smiled, pulling the drawer of his desk open, a dozen neatly copied manuscripts tucked beside one another.
“What do I need to do to take the oath?” she asked, afraid that if she slowed her breath, she might come to her senses.
“You’re here, that’s a good start.” Kwan reached to his side, slowly unsheathing a small dagger and resting it in the space between them. “The Nova oath is simple. You can never reveal your participation or anyone else’s outside of the rebellion. The blood oath protects us. Most of us have found ways to signal our allegiance without stating it outright. You’ll pick it up.”
Lunelle nodded.
“You’ll have to find someone to initiate you,” Kwan said.
Lunelle’s brows arched. “You cannot?”
