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“Of course,” she rolled her eyes. She’d seen her own mother’s resistance time and time again. “Gods forbid they get placed in the same category as someone whose hands aren’t pristine.”

“They’d revolt. This will be a bloody business. It’s a delicate matter that requires careful planning, but Celene is proof that community living can work. Perhaps you could take me to visit?—”

“No.” She sucked a breath in through her teeth, her bones screaming to protect her family. “I’m so sorry. It’s not personal. Most of the women in Celene are survivors of unspeakable atrocities at the hands of men. You understand?”

“Of course,” he sighed. “I should have realized.”

Astra bit her lip, willing the scarlet urge to defend them into submission. He was not an enemy. He was curious.

“Some of the leadership would be willing to speak with you, we could perhaps meet in Ellume or one of the Middle Villages.”

“That would be incredible. I’m sure I don’t even need to say this, but please, keep this between us. If the Mercurian courtiers caught wind…” Mirquios shivered, unwilling to even imagine the consequences.

“Understood,” Astra agreed. A roar of screams rose over the beach, Lunelle’s silhouette hoisting a mallet over her head. She was but a blur of silver from this distance, but Astra knew what a Lunelle victory sounded like.

“Your sister…”

“My sister?”

“She’ll be taking the throne in the Winter. Is she of a similar mind to ours?”

Astra twisted her fingers into her skirt. “I’m not certain. I think so. I want to believe so. But my mother has been molding her mind for three and a half decades. It’s hard to say.”

“Perhaps we could bring her into the fold eventually, too.”

“Maybe,” she whispered. “Don’t laugh, but before we head back, I need to make my offering to the sea.”

Mirquios tilted his head to the side. “Why would I laugh?” He reached into his pocket and produced a thin gold chain. “I find it a charming notion. What’s the protocol here? Do we just throw them? Is there an incantation?”

Astra giggled, fishing around in her pocket for the small velvet offering bag she’d filled with aventurine stones from the gown he’d gifted her.

Somewhere between breakfast with Lunelle and dinner, she’d felt a longing within her she knew meant she needed to at least consider her plan for the king, and all this talk of transferring power was only making the yearning worse.

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t Fate, but it was appealing.

“You make your plea to the sea goddesses in your mind, and then toss it into the ocean as far as you can.”

“Ladies first, then,” he said, turning toward the vast expanse of the Empyrean Sea, stars slipping under the horizon as the night drifted on.

Astra stepped forward, the layers of her dress swirling around her ankles like a silk jellyfish.

She closed her eyes and drew in a salty breath.

The loose thoughts in the back of her mind crystallized into a vision she could no longer ignore.

Mirquios was kind, he understood her vision, and he certainly wasn’t difficult to look at.

If she cemented herself to him, she could shed her mother’s meddling. Oestera would have to accept a king over a prince, wouldn’t she? She wanted allies, and this was a powerful one.

Astra’s big visions for the future were not out of grasp with a king at her side.

They were not two cosmic lovers, predestined by the gods to fall into one another—rather, they were two kindred spirits leaning on each other to change the unchangeable course of their bloodlines, and that had to count for something.

Right?

Give me the king , she thought as she reared her arm back, flinging the bag into the black waters.

Mirquios waited until she returned to his side to make his plea.

He did not hide the rush of feelings within him—nerves and nostalgia, a longing for something, a release.

He wound his hand back and skipped forward as he hurled the chain through the air and watched it sail across the night sky, landing with a satisfying splash.

“Now what?” He asked.

“Now, we wait,” she said, shrugging. “We’ll check the beach at moonrise. If we’ve chosen the right path, our offerings will return to us.”

“Are you going to tell me what you wished for?” He asked softly, eyes finally releasing from the spot where his offering submerged and landing on Astra’s face.

“Never.”

“You could sense mine, couldn’t you?”

Astra’s nose scrunched. “Only how you felt about it.”

“So unfair,” he murmured, stepping a tad closer to her. She felt it then, the magnetic pull between hands that concluded they would touch, but weren’t sure how or when.

Astra drifted her fingers into the charged space between them, lingering just near enough a strong breeze could seal the deal.

Perhaps he moved first, perhaps she did—their hands entangled all the same. A comforting warmth rolled off the king. Just enough to intrigue her, but not enough to set her instincts ablaze.There was something within his touch that felt familiar.

Easy.

He watched their skin dance together under the Moon, those feelings he showed Astra in the study rushing forward again, this time louder, with more intense hues.

Mirquios inhaled, his breath laden with the fear of a man about to put himself at the mercy of a woman. “Is it crazy to think that sometimes the gods mistake the whole Tether thing? Surely a few souls slip through the cracks?”

Astra shook her head, ruby curls bouncing against her shoulders. She tried to fight the smile that broke over her lips, but her lungs filled with those vibrant colors of his, making it hard to resist the urge. “I’ve heard crazier things.”

“Astra,” he whispered, but she did not let him finish whatever the thought might have been.

She didn’t care. If she was going to attach herself to someone, it might as well be as beneficial to her body as it was to her soul.

She pitched forward, slipping herself under the surface of him, waves crashing around their ankles as she pressed her lips into his. His hand sat at her waist, gently squeezing his long fingers into the hazy silk of her dress as they moved closer still.

As his lips waltzed against hers, she waited for the fire in her veins to spark—the way it had in past encounters—for a flourish of gilded desire to explode in his chest. She waited for her back to arch involuntarily, for the blood to rush to her cheeks.

She waited for her fingers to desperately curl against his strong arms, unable to fathom letting go.

She waited to feel, well, anything .

Astra pulled away from him, the clouds within her head now decidedly tainted with something new.

“Oh,” he said, surprised.

“Huh.” Her eyebrows crashed together. “Perhaps we put too much pressure on it?”

This relieved him. “Yes! The first kiss can be so daunting!”

“Right,” she agreed. “Well, then. Um?—”

“Princess?” Ameera’s voice cut between them, an interruption they were both silently grateful for.

“Ameera!” Mirquios boomed, a little too enthusiastically. He reached for the back of his neck, the relief visible as the colors within him straightened out. “I should get back,” he muttered, pointing toward the tent.

“Of course,” Astra replied, eyes cast at the water below them. Ameera’s eyes flickered between them, unsure how to proceed.

“Your Highness,” she bowed as Mirquios darted back toward the beach.

“Good evening!” He called over his shoulder.

“Oh!” Ameera cried, stepping on something in the shallows. She stooped and snagged a thin gold chain from the water. “Is this either of yours?”

A twist of ruby alarm gripped the king’s chest. “Yes,” he hesitated to say. “Yes, that is… mine. I suppose I’m on the right path, then?” He looked at Astra and gestured toward it. “You know what, why don’t you keep it, Princess? A gift.”

“Oh, um, yes, thank you,” Astra said, pulling at the bodice of her dress. Mirquios trotted through the surf, disappearing up the shore.

That was the worst kiss I’ve ever seen. Ameera snorted, the amusement tickling her lungs.

Astra gasped, “Ameera!”

“You have better chemistry with Riverion.”

“Mother smite me, Ameera, that’s foul ,” Astra hissed. But she couldn’t help herself. The harsh sound faded into a giggle.

Ameera rested a hand on her forearm. “There’s always the Martian child. In five, maybe ten years he just might know where to find?—”

“Absolutely not !” Astra choked. “I left education in my maidenhood, thank you. ”

Ameera shrugged beside Astra as she drowned in midnight blue misery. It was the worst kiss she’d ever had, and she’d had some weak starts.

She spent the next thirty minutes searching the shallows for her offering, dreading that it might show up.

Dreading that it wouldn’t.

It did not reappear before she finally gave in to her exhaustion and fell into bed.

* * *

“Princess,” a deep voice thundered over Astra’s shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

She twisted, a sudden heat sending a sheet of sweat rolling down her back. The sand on her astral plane sparkled like crushed diamonds instead of the grainy beige she shook from her dress before bed. She dragged a finger through the coarse glitter, leaving a trail as warm waves lapped at her feet.

“I thought I knew,” she whispered. “But the gods don’t seem to agree.”

The voice scoffed. “You didn’t strike me as someone who gave a single shit about what the gods desire.”

Astra woke with a start, a lingering heat in her skin, drowning her throughout breakfast.