“Princess Lunelle!”
They both turned their heads to address the sweet soprano that rang out behind them. A petite young woman bounded across the gardens, a sheer black gown floating in waves behind her. She looked less like a princess and more akin to a goddess of death, a perfect little creature with a sharp gaze surrounded by shadows. Her pale skin glowed with a cerulean sheen that must have made her the Plutonian princess.
“Princess Yallara,” Lunelle returned. “So kind of you to host us.”
She bounced on her heels as she grinned. “My brother doesn’t have a shred of fun in his bones, so I figured someone had to break the ice.”
Yallara sidled up to Lunelle as if they were lifelong friends and not strangers a second ago. Up close, Yallara was not a goddess of death, but a harbinger of mischief. The desire to spark chaos sparkled in the sapphire blues of her eyes.
She liked this princess, Lunelle decided. There was something so reminiscent of Astra about the defiance in her chin, the bubbling current of unpredictability in her veins that Lunelle admired.
“And you must be King Mirquios,” Yallara said. “I’m delighted to see you here as well!”
Mirquios nodded, his aventurine eyes briefly skimming over her face as he watched his courtiers rumble with laughter across the garden.
“I must know what’s in this tea,” Lunelle mumbled, her head fogging over as she spoke.
“Oh!” Yallara leaned over her teacup, her eyes dropping to the violet pool swirling in Lunelle’s hands. “That’s one of the stronger cups. Brave woman,” Yallara winked as she watched the tea slosh against the sides of Lunelle’s cup.
Lunelle’s face heated. “Stronger… than… a chamomile?”
Yallara’s lips quirked at the corners. “Well, Princess, it’s less of a tea, more of an…. experience,” she explained.
Mirquios and Lunelle exchanged a skeptical glance.
Her sloped shoulders shrugged as if reporting on the weather. “Should only be an hour or two. You didn’t drink all that much. Oh! Kahlia!” Yallara darted across the courtyard, leaving them to stare silently at the teacup.
“Well,” Lunelle said, a tingle slipping over her skin. “This should be interesting.”
Mirquios held back a laugh.
Lunelle glared. “This isn’tfunny, Mirquios!”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” He clasped his fingers over his lips, eyes wide as she calculated how long she had before she was a weeping puddle.
“I’ve been here for an hour and already my mother is going to murder me,” she groaned.
“Here,” the king murmured, taking the cup from her. In one swift movement, he threw the entirety of its remains back, wincing as the herbs hit his throat. “If you’re going down, at least you won’t be alone.”
Lunelle gasped, “Your Highness!”
“Foul,” he croaked, covering his mouth as he forced the tea to stay down.
Lunelle giggled into her hands, her heart warmed by his attempt at allyship. His lips curled into a smile that reflected hers. She wondered if he was feeling as lightheaded as she was yet.
He cleared his throat, passing the empty cup off to a servant before gesturing to the courtiers before them.
“These diplomacy dinners are always intensely boring, anyway. Perhaps now we’ll have a little fun.”
ChapterThree
Dinner was, by all accounts,notfun.
The tension at the long table clung to whispered small talk and shifting glances as the dignitaries watched the grand arch at the end of the dining room for the Plutonian prince. Or perhaps Lunelle only imagined it as her head drifted into a vast ocean, her vision hazy at the edges.
There was just so much to look at in the Plutonian palace. The tapestries lining the walls over the flickering lanterns past Yallara’s shoulder held her attention for at least ten minutes.
But they were so lovely. She imagined them as the eyes of the divine mothers waiting for her at the Court Above’s gates upon her Ascent. They swirled with gentle honey-golds, bronze streaks whispering the secrets of the System to her?—
