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Chapter Nine

Y ou’re being weird.

Lunelle’s voice broke Astra’s staring contest with her coffee cup—and she was so close to winning.

“I’m sorry,” Astra answered aloud, unable to muster the energy for anything else.

She barely slept after last night’s events.

Her heart was too tangled up in seawater and conflicted feelings.

That, and she’d gotten up just before moonrise to search the expanse of the sandy Empyrean shore for a small velvet bag that neglected to make its way back to her.

She shook the thought from her head. Perhaps she hadn’t been clear enough—too afraid to really demand what she wanted. Perhaps the Court Above simply couldn’t watch her suffer a lifetime of sterile, passionless kissing.

The gods had not been particularly merciful to her so far, but maybe this was their way of making it up to her.

“What’s going on?” Lunelle asked, eyeing the golden chain around Astra’s wrist. “Another gift?”

She sighed. “Sort of.”

“I never thought I’d see you so lovelorn,” Lunelle said wistfully, reaching for a bowl of fruit. “I hardly recognize you. You’re all flustered. It’s quite unsettling.”

She brushed her glimmering hair over one shoulder, the last light of the waning Moon washing her in pale beams as the dining hall filled in with courtiers.

The sea breeze crept over the tables, tickling their collarbones, though Astra did not shiver.

A heat crawled up her neck as she weighed telling her sister what had transpired between her and the king.

Or rather, what hadn’t .

Gods, she would love to be flustered. Flustered would be wonderful. She’d even take thoroughly ruffled—Mother above, she’d trade all the coins in her pocket to replace the strange dread in her bones with something new.

“Astra!” Her mother’s voice snapped her from her spiraling thoughts as she crossed the dining hall. A slender form trailed her, wrapped in the scarlets of Mars.

Oh, shit , she sent to her sister, who snorted into her tea cup. Astra held her breath. An angry purple flared in her chest as her sister stifled a giggle with her sleeve.

“Prince Omnir was hoping to go for a ride on this lovely morning,” Oestera chirped.

“Ah, well, unfortunately, I don’t believe we have any saddles that fit me, Mother,” Astra mumbled, the queen’s eyes flaring with irritation.

She sighed and straightened her shoulders.

“I’d caution you against the Silvershifts.

Perhaps one of the smaller wyverns would be more enjoyable. Have so much fun!”

Oestera hissed through clenched teeth, “You’re one of our best riders. The prince has competed in dozens of inter-court races. Surely, you two would enjoy some spirited competition.”

“Competed in… but not won?” She glared at the princeling who shifted in his boots, avoiding eye contact. His face flushed as he glanced toward Oestera.

Help me , Astra begged her sister.

“Enough, you will join Omnir?—”

“She cannot!” Lunelle perked up, her delicate brows arching in surprise at the sharpness of her tone. Oestera rolled her eyes. It had been quite some time since she’d found herself embroiled in a two-on-one match with her daughters—she was out of practice and they knew it.

“And why is that, Lunelle?”

“She…” Lunelle pursed her lips, glancing at Astra as if she had the magic solution.

Her eyes darted across the dining hall and Astra watched a pale daffodil yellow unfurl in her chest. “She’s already promised to take the Mercurian king…

” Lunelle tapped her fingers against her glass as she thought.

“On a tour of the distillery. Yes. She’s giving the king a tour. Look, there he is now!”

Astra’s eyes followed her sister’s gesture across the table, wondering if Prince Omnir might have been the better Fate.

She caught Mirquios’s eyes widening in recognition.

“Oh,” Oestera said, taken aback. “Is she now?” The pleasure her mother derived from this revelation should have been a point of caution for Astra, but she was too busy drowning in the blood rushing to her ears. “Well, I won’t interfere with your plans, then.”

“Thank you, Mother?” Astra couldn’t help but tilt her voice up at the end, unsure she’d ever left a conversation with Oestera on a positive note.

She hopped to her feet and crossed the dining hall, dozens of courtiers watching as she wove through the tables.

They judged her in shades of orange and red, blue and violet.

But no one drowned in violet apprehension quite like Astra.

The king gauged her path immediately, bracing himself as a carnelian panic rose in his lungs. She watched the cloud dissipate as he drew in a measured breath.

“Princess,” he said, leaning back against the table his court occupied.

“Good morrow,” Astra ventured, attempting to sound breezy, though her tone settled between them with a thud.

“Indeed,” he replied, a smirk pulling at his lips. He’d been nervous about this interaction, but something about the way she rocked on her heels amused him.

“I believe I promised you a tour of our moonshine distillery this morning.”

Mirquios tilted his head as she narrowed her eyes. “I… sure?” Astra’s lips twitched. “Yes. You did. I was just going to grab some breakfast?—”

Astra released a breath, grabbing a pastry from a basket at the center of the table and shoving it into his hand. “Make it to go, Your Highness!”

* * *

“You’re quite famous for your moonshine, you know,” Mirquios mused after three and a half miserable hallways of silence.

“Mmm.”

“There’s a Lunar stall in the Mercurian Bazaar that sells it. They have the most splendid little bottles, with crystals on the corks!”

“Sure.” Astra shoved a thick moonstone door open with her hip, revealing a damp staircase. “Down we go.”

The king’s eyes flickered between her face and the stairs. “After you, my lady.”

Astra huffed, happy to escape to the cooler underground of the palace.

She took the steps two at a time, sweeping her black skirts behind her.

Mirquios missed the final step, lurching forward, his hands landing on her hips to steady himself.

He attempted to yank them away, but a finger caught in the delicate chain around her waist, between a metallic star and Moon charm.

She yelped as the weight of him pushed the sharp tip of the star into her flesh.

“Sorry,” he sighed.

Astra spun and faced him, eye to eye with his surprised stare. The cellar air chilled her bones, the heat from his chest suddenly much more appealing. He was handsome, by all accounts. She’d done much more interesting things with much less interesting people.

Perhaps it had been a case of the first kiss jitters.

Her silk slippers ground against the frigid stone floor as she pushed onto her toes. His arms closed around her waist in a halo of warmth, pulling her against him. Their lips brushed tentatively, both afraid to repeat last night’s failure.

His fingers wrapped around the side of her neck, applying pressure just below her ear. Her hand wandered the vast plane of his chest, pressing into his shoulder, searching for something to hold on to.

A subtle flicker of rosy pink, so slight she almost missed it, came to life between them but disappeared. Astra gave up.

“What is wrong with us?” she cried, clasping her hands together in frustration.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Mirquios gasped, backing away from her. “I was so worried it was just me.”

“Certainly not,” Astra muttered.

“I did not mean?—”

“I know! I know,” she said, waving her hands to silence them both. She leaned against the clammy wall, letting the cold stone soothe her temper. “Mother above, I really thought it was just a one-off.”

“Listen, I was doing some of my best work just now. Women usually love the neck thing!”

“I believe you! Fuck,” she hissed, the expletive catching him off guard. “This really ruins my plan.”

“Plan?”

Astra shook her head. “Um. No plan.”

“Princess—”

“Mother, spare me. This is so humbling.” She slinked around the corner, the narrow passage opening into a massive cellar filled with barrels upon barrels of moonshine.

Mirquios followed, propping himself up on one of them.

She let her body fall to the floor in a heap against the wall. “My mother is trying to marry me off.”

“Yes,” Mirquios said, confused by her confusion.

“To the Martian prince,” she sighed.

His lips twisted. “The boy? Would he know the first thing to do with you?”

She glared, the implication that he had any more luck with her irritating.

“That’s why I’ve basically thrown myself at you.” She blushed as she confessed to him. “I thought that if you and I could make a good match, if we saw the world the same way… well. There are worse Fates, surely.”

The king straightened his back, his lips twitching into a smile as he laughed. “Is that a proposal, Princess?”

Astra rolled her eyes. “My mother will never allow me to go back to Celene and I can’t do enough from here to further the cause. But she knows war is coming and she needs alliances. I think that’s why she’s so set on Omnir.”

Mirquios considered that for a moment, his bright eyes sweeping over her. “Mars is no place for a mind like yours, Astra.”

“ I know that. What you said last night, about Celene, about building a similar community—I thought maybe that was a sign to pursue it. But then we kissed and…” She released another sigh, letting her hand fall to her side.