They’d spent months keeping their hands to themselves—sitting on them if that’s what it took—anything to keep the lines between them clean.
But here, in the basement of The Dune, the line had suddenly vanished.
“Lu,” he whispered. The sound was a sweet melody to her ears, despite the melancholy notes running beneath it.
“She seemed okay, right?” Lunelle leaned into him, her gentle touch against his chest even more comforting than he’d imagined it might be.
“If Astra is half as strong-willed as you’ve alluded to, I imagine she’ll be onto her next plan by morning.”
Lunelle stroked the fine silver threads woven into his tunic. She’d wondered so many times what they would feel like without the sting of guilt clouding them.
“I should check on her?—”
“Lunelle,” Mirquios disrupted her panic. “She’s in good hands with the commander.”
“You’re right,” she breathed, her lungs expanding in jittery waves. “Perhapstoogood of hands.”
“Luxuros did not seem ready to have that conversation,” Mirquios laughed.
Lunelle wasn’t a child. She knew what came next—she’d stood in this strange sea of tension for so long, waiting for the pressure to drop and the storm to move inland. They’d held themselves back from one another for months, and there was something comforting in always having that line drawn between them.
Now, the possibilities were wide open—hers to take.
“I don’t expect anything, Lunelle. I know things are still complicated with the prince, and I would never risk your safety for that.”
The king leaned back from her touch, reading the hesitation on her face.
“You could give Astra a run for her money,” she laughed.
“I also understand that your feelings for him aren’t easily explained.”
“That’s generous, Mirquios.”
He held her hands in his. She enjoyed the pleasant warmth to his touch. She’d been able to tell, of course, standing near him and the brief moments they’d toed the line that she was much cooler than he, but it was always so rushed—so panicked—she never got to marvel in their differences.
“I would wait a thousand lifetimes if you needed me to,” he whispered, squeezing her pale hands, so small in his.
It was that admission that made her realize shecouldn’twait a thousand lifetimes for him.
Lunelle pushed herself forward, wrapping her arms around his strong neck and hanging from him as she moved her mouth over his. The shock melted within a second of tasting him—even sweeter than she’d remembered from the cliffs.
The way his lips moved against hers did something sacred to her heart.
He tangled his hand into her braided crown, the silk strands smooth against his calloused fingertips. She told herself it was just a kiss—to not get ahead of herself—but then a quiet moan spun at the back of his throat and any thought of restraint dissolved.
He pulled away from her, though everything in their bodies begged for less space, at a squeak at the top of the basement steps.
Maeve cleared her throat.
“Don’t you have a palace, Your Highness?” she asked.
ChapterTwenty-Six
“And here I thought the Sun was intense in Pluto,” Lunelle said, running her fingers over the lush velvet curtains framing the window—easily twice her height—in the king’s bedroom.
The golden Sun broke through the glass and spilled over the Mercurian palace floor, bouncing sparkling rays across her bare feet. She watched as it crowned the city below—a city she’d hopelessly fallen in love with after only a few hours.
A city bathed in golden warmth, just like Mirquios, speckled with pastels and strange flora and gems in the walls she did not yet know the names of.
