“You always have it all planned, don’t you? You brought me here for the same reason. A bargaining chip! And to that awful prince?—”
“Think what you want of me, Lunelle. Tell yourself whatever story you need to. But I am doing what’s best for all of us, I can assure you of that. I’ve given you plenty of outs with Arcas. The only one forcingyourhand is you.” Oestera stood, brushing past her daughter as she aimed to disappear into her side of their rooms.
Lunelle was panicked, angry, and flush with a rage she’d never felt before.
A rage she knew her sister felt frequently.
“And what of your mother? Selenia?”
Oestera froze.
“What of her?” she asked without turning.
“Is she where you’ve learned all your tricks—yourplanning?”
Oestera released a heavy sigh, a sour grin spreading over her lips.
“Selenia is precisely where I learned every move I make, Lunelle. For better or worse.”
Oestera pushed into her bedroom, shoving the door shut behind her without an ounce of the grace she held so dearly.
Lunelle stood in the silence, but only briefly.
“Princess,” Lura whispered, hovering near her. “Are you all right?”
Lunelle smoothed her skirts and set off for the door.
“I’m staying in the palace,” she assured Lura before taking off through the Plutonian halls.
She let her revulsion at her mother’s convoluted plans propel her across the palace, through the quiet halls as most of the courtiers slept, and around the corner into the chambers of the Mercurians.
She did not care about the implications as she knocked on his door, nor did she offer any explanation to the baffled servant who answered.
“Where is he?”
“Princess Lunelle?—”
She pushed past him. “Where is the king?”
The servant eyed her, his Mercurian greens contrasting with the rich sapphires of the walls.
“Lunelle?”
Mirquios appeared in the doorway, pulling a thin shirt over his shoulders.
“Are you all right?” He stepped closer, his feet bare against the plush rug beneath them as her chest heaved. “Is Astra okay?”
Lunelle’s eyes fell to the servant beside them.
“Leave us,” Mirquios commanded.
The servant resisted, uncomfortable with Lunelle’s vibrating energy.
“Your High?—”
“Now!” Mirquios bellowed.
The man faded away through the door Lunelle had just stormed. Mirquios reached for her elbow, a touch she was sure was meant to be comforting, but in her anger, it was irritating. She jerked her arm away.
