“My sister would never deny me this, not if she knew, Mirquois. I know her heart better than I know my own, and she would not hesitate.”
“But Arcas?—”
“Arcas is an affliction of my own doing,” Lunelle sighed. “If he doesn’t ally with us, he has no one. Not even the gods will care about him. I am but a political trophy to him, something to play with when he feels insecure, but to you…”
Her eyes dared to find his, her pale cheeks reddened by her near admission.
“To me… you are death herself. The only thing in life that is certain,” the king said with a quiet reverence.
Her pulse lit up within her veins, and she wondered briefly if this was how her sister walked through the world, so positively buzzing withsomethingin her blood that she felt as if she might burst. She’d never allowed herself the luxury of imagining an alternative, never risked the fantasy of him.
But what if?
Whatif?
“I will speak to my mother this evening,” she decided, her knees aching at the firmness with which she stood on the shore.
Mirquios dropped her hand, his brows arching with confusion.
“What?”
“My mother has stood in my shoes before. Surely she would understand. If anyone could untangle this mess, she could do it.”
“Do you really think?—”
“I am not thinking at all, Mirq,” she laughed.
That was it—that was all she’d give to his doubt. It was all she could spare. She tucked herself into him, not giving a single damn about what it would all mean.
All she could feel was the difference in his touch—the light with which he caressed her, the care. Touching him was not a distraction from what she wanted, it was destiny fulfilled.
“We need to get back,” she spoke into his chest.
“One more moment?” Mirquios asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, staring out over the cliffs.
“One more moment,” she murmured, lifting his hand to her lips.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Dinner had already begun when they returned.
Lunelle felt the prince’s cold sapphire stare on her as she slipped into the hall, dropping into the seat beside her mother. The king followed shortly after, an absence Arcas had surely noted.
“You’re late,” Oestera whispered.
Lunelle nodded in a simple acknowledgement. She would not apologize.
She’d hardly gotten a sip of wine in before her mother rose beside her, tapping the edge of her glass with a silver knife.
“Now that both parties are here,” Oestera said, grinning as her eyes fell to Lunelle. “The Lunar Court has exciting news!”
Lunelle choked, the bitter wine catching on her panic.
“Mother—”
Oestera ignored her.
“We’ve spent these last few months picking apart every possible detail of what it would be like to embrace the Plutonians as the Inner Courts’ newest allies. We’ve aired our doubts and concerns, we’ve made plan after plan, and I know we all agree that Arcas has demonstrated his dedication to our cause and his rejection of Solar dominance over the Living Courts. I believe we are all aligned on the benefits, and I am thrilled to seal their dedication and welcome Arcas to the Lunar Court beside Lunelle as our Lunar king.”
