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Chapter Three

N othing about the palace had changed in her absence.

The same dark halls glittered with clusters of opal and amethyst under the glass ports in the arched ceilings.

The same metallic threads wove tales of goddesses and wars in the same tapestries lining the walls.

The same ancient busts of queens with full lips and proud eyes watched as she darted across the courtyard to the wing of the palace she shared with her sister.

The same palace maidens shuffled from room to room in their silver robes, carrying out their daily tasks with wide eyes as Astra zipped between them.

Some of them smiled and some of them pretended not to notice her altogether. Both reactions seemed fair.

Ameera left Astra in her dressing room with her council robes already laid out in a strange silence.

In Celene, the quietest it ever got was in the dead of night—and even then, the patrol units giggled together over stories from their home courts.

Their tinkling laughter would float into the open windows of her tower apartment.

Astra searched for any evidence that her space had been deemed off-limits, but no dust settled on the shelves. No cobwebs caught the moonlight.

Her council robes tied at her waist, complementing her curved hips and soft belly. Gold always flattered her more, but one can’t help being the first flame in a thousand years of ice queens.

Second , she reminded herself. Her Autumnal hues perfectly mirrored her late Aunt Leona’s, the very reason she’d ended up second in line to the throne. Perhaps the resemblance to her ill-fated sister was the reason Astra’s mother struggled to meet her eye without a pained grimace.

Astra poked her head into the hallway, catching a maiden as she rushed from one chore to another.

“Sorry,” she interrupted. “Could I trouble you for some help? I need a bandage.”

The maiden—her soft, tan face untouched by time—jumped at the unexpected voice. Her eyes landed on Astra’s bleeding cut, widening as she pieced together who was speaking to her.

“It’s not that bad!” Astra assured her, unsuccessfully disarming her with a smile. “Shouldn’t require much.”

The maiden backed away slowly, her eyes fixing on Astra’s fingers as bright red fear bubbled to life in her chest.

Ah, Astra thought. She should have realized her reputation preceded her. “I’ll just take care of it myself,” she whispered as the maiden scurried away, leaving her alone as a maroon shame washed over her.

At least there were no witnesses this time.

She stepped back into the dressing room and flung open the wardrobe, flicking through dress after dress.

She yanked a simple linen frock off its hanger and pulled at the hem, tearing a thin strip to use as a bandage.

Astra wrapped it around her bicep and tied it off, letting the long sleeve of the robes fall over it so no one would see.

She swept her hair back into a long braid, the scarlet strands so out of place in a world of cool blues, purples, and greens.

Setting her shoulders back, she filled her lungs with air as one final stalling tactic and stepped into the hall, ready to face the maidens and courtiers watching her every move.

Their chests exploded in critical rainbows as they held their tongues—scarlet fear, violet intrigue, amber disdain, emerald envy. She appreciated the last one, for what it was worth, though if they only knew the weight of the Lunar Court, they might turn their ambition elsewhere.

She reached the Celestial Hall, her mother’s preferred assembly space, and stopped outside of the ornately carved stone doors flanked on either side by maidens with amethyst circlets hovering over their foreheads.

She didn’t recognize either of them—they must be new.

Well, newer , she corrected herself.

One averted her gaze as the princess approached, the other smiled curtly and pulled back the door, allowing a sea breeze to roll into the hallway.

The hall overlooked the Empyrean Sea’s rolling black waves.

Foam curled and spun as it crashed against the gray rock below, spraying the sides of the palace with sparkling mist. The walls rose into a high dome peaking in the center in a glass moonlight, filtering the bright glow of the cosmos above into an opal haze.

A ring of constellations and goddesses reached for one another in an intertwined circle, watching as Astra crossed the floor, her shoes tapping rhythmically as she maintained an even pace.

Inside the center of the domed hall sat a circular table cut from a smoky shadow diamond, reflecting a dozen faces as they turned in unison toward her.

Twenty-four eyes seared into her chest at once, but only one gaze held hers.

Queen Oestera stood at the side of the table, her pointed chin held high as she let her silver eyes drag over her daughter’s estranged face.

Her hair, the same sharp metallic as her eyes, fell into several woven braids at her hips, wide with the curves of a woman who brought two souls into the realm.

Her robes matched Astras in all ways but one.

Where her sleeves draped to the floor in plain waves of silver silk, the queen’s bore dozens of gilded stars commemorating the skies each of her daughters were born beneath.

She blinked, moving on from Astra’s face quickly, almost as if she’d seen her just a few hours ago at breakfast. She gestured with a long arm toward a seat that had remained empty for three years and Astra took her place quietly, unsure of what greeting she’d expected.

She settled in next to a slender frame, nearly identical to the queen’s long lines, who didn’t break her carefully constructed mask as her heart flared in shades of bright pink and yellow.

Where Oestera’s mouth creased with impatience, Lunelle’s folded into a gentle smile.

You came home . Lunelle’s soprano voice rang in her sister’s mind so clearly Astra’s shoulders jerked back with the shock. It had been three years since she’d heard a voice bounce off the walls of her inner world. She’d nearly forgotten it was possible.

Astra’s lips twitched as she shook off the rust around her mind. What can I say? Autonomy got boring.

I don’t care how irritated you are. I’m so happy to see you! You don’t write anymore.

Astra winced as her mother spoke in low tones to her commander, Archera. I’m sorry, Lu. I’ve been busy.

Before Lunelle could argue, Oestera stepped forward, resting a cloth-covered object on the table.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve found an object like this in the court,” she began, nodding toward the mysterious item.

Archera reached forward, pulling the cloth away, revealing a glittering golden orb that hurt to look at, rays of light bouncing in all directions. They blinded Astra but begged her eyes to stay at the same time.

She could only hold the object’s gaze for a moment before her eyes watered. Archera threw the cloth back over it, each councilwoman’s shoulders relaxing when the light disappeared.

“Is it Solarian?” A priestess asked.

Oestera shrugged as much as she ever allowed herself to reveal she didn’t know the answer to a question. “I had hoped Astra could help us identify it.”

There it was. Scarlet pain wrapped its fingers around Astra’s throat. She was forever a tool in her mother’s clutches, called upon when a matter stumped the rest of the council.

“Have the divination laws changed in my time away?” She smirked, knowing her disingenuous question would not be well received. She knew as well as any of the other women gathered around the table that the rules banning the use of intuitive magic didn’t matter when the queen’s mission was at stake.

Oestera’s brows knit together. “Astra.” A warning. The only one she’d get.

“Don’t touch it,” Lunelle whispered, leaning away from the object as Astra stretched forward and pulled at the cloth’s edge beneath the orb, dragging it closer to her.

Oestera stared as her daughter observed the object’s weight in her mind, holding it as best she could to understand it. Though Oestera would never display the vermillion concern building in her chest, Astra appreciated she still felt it at all.

The warmth radiating from the object repelled and intrigued Astra in ways she did not quite understand. The heat was offensive as it crashed against her cold Lunarian skin. Even with the flames that ran through her blood, she found it too foreign—too other .

A buzzing wave radiated from its center, rolling over itself again and again.

As she let it reach out and stroke her cheek, she realized it wasn’t just a vibrating sound, but a distant melody, garbled through gods only knew how many dimensions.

The echo of the strange muted music climbed the hall’s domed interior as the rhythm slowed to a hypnotic lull.

Who are you? She asked it as if it would answer. It might. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.

Images flickered across Astra’s mind. A man’s hands, deep bronze with thick, leather bands around his wrists, cupped the orb in the cover of night—the same obsidian sky they sat under now.

He peered into the orb, his face warped around the curvature of the glass, and he asked it a question in a language she’d never heard—the musical lilt did something strange to her chest.

She couldn’t understand the string of words, but she felt their request as the innards of the crystal ball swirled and twisted through space and time, stopping within the gates of a village she knew all too well.

A village perched just outside of Celene, alive with morning chores and activity. Women laughed in the center of the town, balancing baskets of fruit on their heads and hanging laundry.

It was a facade, a carefully curated one to protect the real Celene carved into the cliffs below. If anyone went searching for the long-forgotten city, they’d see the crumbling village and assume that’s all it offered.