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Chapter Seventeen

T hey walked through endless hallways, dimly lit by flickering torches as they passed under the city streets.

Strange doors peppered the walls, made from a myriad of materials, each stationed with guards who nodded dutifully as Daria passed with her captives.

Astra mentally cataloged questions for Luxuros as they approached the Aurellis family home on the far edge of the city, backing into the Empyrean Sea.

Daria poked her head out of a creaking wooden door, looking both ways before she stepped aside and let them through.

The street was silent save for a few cats that scattered at the sounds of their boots against the pale lavender cobblestone.

Daria pulled her black hood over her face, casting a dark shadow across her eyes.

The Crescent Manor’s stone walls ran along the last street in Ellume, bits of quartz and crystal sparkling under fading lamplights. A guardhouse glowed from within at the center of the wall. Two maidens perched on chairs inside passed a bottle of moonshine back and forth.

When one spotted Astra, her eyes widened, but she waved them off quickly as they crossed the street.

“Princess! We were not expecting the family.” Her heart exploded into a flurry of violet shame.

“It’s okay! We didn’t send notice. It’s just us. No need to make a fuss,” Astra assured her.

The group pulled back the stone and crystal gate, allowing them passage onto a long curved driveway with an end that disappeared into a lush garden of trees teeming with Summer blossoms. They tracked up the path as the crystal manor rose above them, shining against the velvet sky.

“While they visit the council, perhaps you could stop by the barracks, Commander,” Daria offered as they approached the glittering amethyst front door. “I wouldn’t mind getting your eyes on some things we’re working on. I imagine you have much more experience than I do with these things.”

Luxuros only nodded, his signature pensive stare crumbling as his eyes took in the bizarre array of flora on the manor’s porch.

“Eileen manages the house,” Astra said, noticing his fascination with the colorful spray of petals and leaves. “She’s got quite the green thumb.”

“Speaking of,” Ameera said, her eyes flickering to the glass door at the top of the steps.

Four maidens poured out of the door to greet their mistress. On the tail end stood a woman wrapped in iridescent threads, her robes slipping over the quartz tile of the porch. Her seasoned eyes quickly assessed who she was dealing with, a sigh of relief drawing a cerulean wave within her chest.

“Astra Leona!” The Head Maiden lifted her skirts and stomped across the porch.

“I promise that we have zero expectations, Eileen!”

“Have you forgotten how to write, Princess?”

Astra blushed. She had lapsed in many of her communications, but Eileen had perhaps been her biggest victim. “I am so sorry, Eileen. I promise you, it’s just for a night or two and I don’t care if we’re sleeping on the floor.”

She scoffed, arching an ancient brow.

“Put me to work,” Ameera said, taking Eileen’s hands in hers and disappearing into the house, leaving Astra, Luxuros, and Daria to stand in a tense silence.

The commander spoke first. “Where should we meet you tomorrow?”

“There’s a tavern across the street from the temple, The Waning Wren. Ask the barkeep for the Vega Special. She’ll get you to me.”

“Goodnight then,” Luxuros said, heading for the door. He left it cracked open slightly, unsure whether Astra would follow.

“We trust this guy?” Daria said, leaning against the railing of the porch, her opal hair tucked behind her ear.

“You’re the one shaking hands and speaking in foreign languages.”

“Vetting,” Daria said, flashing a grin.

A wave of burgundies and dusty roses wafted from the floors above them as maidens zipped room to room to prepare for house guests. Astra tried to tune them out, focusing instead on the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the beaches beyond the gardens.

“So you’re marrying a Mercurian king, then?”

Astra leaned her back against the banister, cradling her arms as she spoke. “I have to.”

“You don’t?—”

The heat in Astra’s eyes silenced her protest. “I do, Daria. Mirquios has a vision that I believe in and marrying him gets me out from under my mother’s thumb. He wants to dismantle the Mercurian Court in favor of something like Celene.”

Daria nodded, pulling on the end of a ruby curl that sprang free from the knot at the back of Astra’s neck. She dropped her gaze, the heat of it sizzling against Astra’s lips.

“But a man?”

Astra laughed—a full, round thing that she so rarely felt reverberated in her chest. “I was surprised, too. But the will of the gods…”

“Spare me the details, Princess. You broke my heart once. That was more than sufficient for this lifetime. I don’t need to hear about the wonder and awe of a Tether.” Daria winced, an emerald flicker wrapping her throat.

Astra squeezed her eyes shut, letting her fingertips brush Daria’s forearm before turning to head inside. “Goodnight, Bloodmoon.”

“Until morning, Blastra.”

* * *

Luxuros stood trapped on the second-floor landing of the manor, Eileen listing every possible amenity he could need.

Astra caught her at the end of her monologue.

“And please, whatever you do, do not believe a word this one says about where to find things. She has never once put something back in the proper place.” Eileen pointed an ancient finger at her.

She fluttered her lashes. “And here I thought you liked our little games, Eileen.” Astra leaned over the banister and placed a quick kiss on the maiden’s cheek.

“You’re my favorite job security. Don’t tell your sister,” she laughed. “I turned down the queen’s quarters for you?—”

“Oh! No, Eileen, that won’t be necessary.” Astra waved her hands, small sparks dancing against the stair railing.

“It’s already done. Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say.” Eileen sank into her hip. “And besides, it’s not like your mother is using it anytime soon.”

“Fine,” Astra conceded. “Where did you put the commander?”

“Your father’s room. Best book collection in the house. You look like you read, Commander.” Eileen’s eyes slid over Luxuros, a spike of heat warming his bronze cheeks.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the deep tenor of his voice sending a thrill through Eileen’s heart. Astra made a note to use this as leverage for teasing her in the morning.

“I’ll show you. Goodnight, Eileen.” Astra passed him on the staircase, climbing a third set of steps to the top floor of the manor. She led him through a narrow hallway that ended in two ornate moonstone doors, the Lunar cycle carved over the entries.

“That’s you,” she said, and before she got the final sound out Luxuros was through the door. “Goodnight!” She called out as the door clicked shut.

She twisted the crystal handle on her mother’s quarters, holding her breath as she entered.

She much preferred the soft, amber glow of the smaller room here than in the cavernous chambers at the palace.

The luxurious bed tempted her, singing a sweet song, but she had to get out of her riding pants before she allowed the duvet to cradle her.

She yanked off her pants and vest, tossing them toward the bed.

They slipped into a heap on the floor, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

She flipped through the dozens of silk nightgowns in her mother’s wardrobe.

Pale pinks, purples, and blues slid from one end to the other until she landed on a deep emerald green, a color she’d always been drawn to.

The silk poured over her curves, caressing her sore muscles as she stretched.

She reached up to her hair, sliding her crescent pin from the knot at her neck and resting it on the onyx table beside her bed.

Something cracked against the floor in the next room over, shattering against the aged stone.

“Ah, shit,” Luxuros muttered through the wall.

Astra darted across the hall, bursting into her father’s room. The commander stooped over a pile of amethyst shards.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry.” Luxuros rose, cradling the pieces in his hands. He set the larger pieces on the desk beside him, where she realized a painting used to live. “I knocked over the frame,” he explained.

Astra crossed the room, kneeling beside him, only now aware of the cropped length of her nightgown. She reached for the slip of canvas lying on the floor as he gently swept the remaining pieces into a pile on the edge of the desk.

“Baby Astra?” He asked, gesturing to the canvas in her hand.

Astra held it up, an image of her mother’s face, though several decades younger, peering back at them from her throne. To her left stood a white-blonde princess in all her glory at five, maybe six years old.

On the floor sat her fiery counterpart, chubby legs jutting out from under a golden dress, a wild spray of red curls already unfurling from her head.

“Baby Astra,” she confirmed. Luxuros glanced around at the other paintings on the wall. Dozens of women with pale skin, ice in their veins, and snowy silver hair watched them.

There were but two smoldering flames amongst them, standing out in a sea of cool masks.

Astra, and her aunt, Leona.

Her aunt’s portrait sat behind the desk, painted shortly after she took the Lunar throne. Her burning hair coiled in a glorious crown, woven into a thick braid beneath a starry diadem. Her amber eyes glowed with an inviting warmth.

“What do you think changed in your family line with Leona? Thousands of years of silver queens, and then one generation everything changes. It doesn’t make sense,” the commander mused, strolling along the wall and taking in the portraits.

Astra shrugged, the hem of her nightgown crawling up her thighs with the movement, something she quickly remedied.