Page 52

Chapter Thirty-Three

“W e need to move quickly if we’re going to see it,” the commander said, dropping her arm.

“See what?”

Lux didn’t answer her question. Instead, he bolted down the hall, his long legs taking the distance quickly as she trailed behind, slipping through hallways and tumbling into the palace’s main hall.

It glowed in ambers and pastels. Pale aventurine tiles accented the floors as his boots skidded to a stop outside of an ornate crystal door.

Two guards watched them, curious but trusting of their commander. As she stepped closer, she felt a strange warmth from the other side of the door.

“Are you ready, Fire Queen?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Ready for what, exactly?”

Lux’s mouth tilted in a quiet smile. “For your first sunrise.”

He pulled the handle of the door inward, washing the hall in a golden bath of light. Her eyes squinted against the glare, struggling to adjust to the boldness of the early morning rays. He stepped into the shimmering beams, his dark skin lighting up in a dazzling display of golds and bronzes.

Astra’s heart squeezed. The commander was handsome in the dim silver glow of Lunaria. She would never deny him the compliment, but here, in the gilded tendrils of sunlight…

Luxuros was a god, and she was struggling against a call within her very soul to worship him.

“You coming?”

She stepped out tentatively. The heat was not all that unlike touching Lux, but stronger as it danced across her skin. The world outside faded into view. Brilliant oranges, reds, and pinks painted the sky in glorious auroras, all radiating from a central ball of fire just beyond the city gates.

The Sun perched on the horizon over a valley of orange dunes speckled with pockets of flora in all sorts of interesting shapes and shades of green.

“Mother above,” she whispered. Her stomach twisted in a nervous knot, the warmth tickling the tip of her nose as she watched the Sun slip higher into the sky. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to betray her.

“As,” the commander breathed. “Your face!”

“Shut up,” she said, flicking the tears away. “This is a big deal for me.”

“Not that,” he laughed, brushing his thumb across her cheek, a tear sliding between their skin. “You’re covered in golden freckles. You don’t see them in the Lunar Court.”

She reached to her face as if she could see them, running her fingertips along a sunkissed path over her nose and cheeks. She fought the dangerous desire to lean into his touch.

“Does it live up to your expectations?”

“Beyond,” she whispered.

His finger slid down her cheek, trailing the freckles as he held her eyes.

“Whoever you are, whatever you are, Astra Leona, the gods did not craft you to hide in the shadow of night.”

And yet you deny me your own sunlight, she thought. Instead of confessing the feeling aloud, she sighed, his finger pausing at her chin as if to catch the whisper of her discontent.

“Astra!” Mirquios boomed across the street, his voice bouncing against the beige walls of his palace.

She hadn’t even looked around. She was so entranced by the golden light of the Sun.

They were perched atop a paved street on a hill, looking down at the rest of the city.

Everything glowed in shades of sand and red clay.

Luxuros pushed her chin toward his king as if it was perfectly within the scope of his job to touch her like this.

The king stopped just short of them. “Whoa.”

Lux dropped his finger, the print embedded in her skin in a sizzling scar no one would ever see. “That’s intriguing,” he whispered. “Who would have thought a Lunar princess would be even more beautiful in the Sun?”

“Perhaps I belong here, after all,” she suggested. She half-meant it.

Mirquios only smiled and gestured toward the street, unfurling before them. “Shall we?”

“Where are we heading?” Astra asked.

Lux flashed a devilish smile at his long-time companion, who mirrored his expression. She saw it then, the bond between them, a seal that blood couldn’t touch.

“No place fit for a princess,” the king said.

Astra followed him through a series of alleyways, Luxuros stalking behind them to keep an eye on the empty streets.

The homes in Mercury were vertically oriented, much like the homes in Celene, but on a grander scale.

Tall towers rose one after the other, with pastel green and blue domes crowning their roofs.

Balconies boasting plants and hanging laundry loomed over the city sidewalks, teeming with evidence that a few hours from now, the streets would bustle with life.

Everything the Sun touched sparkled.

Mirquios banked left at the end of an alley, throwing his hand backward to grasp for Astra’s. He yanked her into a narrow opening between towers, bathed in cool shadows. He stepped lightly as he guided her to a back door, cracked open with a metal crate.

“Welcome, Princess,” Mirquios said, sweeping his arm toward the door. “To The Dune, home to the Mercurian Rebels.” He pulled the door open and entered first, scanning the room before waving her forward, the commander close behind her.

It was dim inside. Her eyes struggled to adjust after taking in so much light, but the bar slowly came into focus.

It was empty save for someone stocking curved glass bottles behind a slab of aventurine stretched across the room.

It glimmered under beams of morning light sneaking in through the open door.

Velvet-lined booths hovered around metallic tables across the majority of the floor.

A stage littered with instruments took up the far edge of the room.

“She’s downstairs,” the barkeep called out without looking up. Mirquios and Luxuros exchanged a glance before the king plunged down a narrow staircase beside the door, his tall frame swallowed by the darkness immediately.

Astra craned her neck to peer into the darkness, but a gentle push from Luxuros at her back prodded her forward. She descended into the inky black, her eyes relaxing as they found their comfort in the haze.

Her feet hit cold cement at the bottom of the stairs as Mirquios disappeared behind a door that had seen better days.

Perhaps better centuries.

“Maeve?” he called.

Luxuros pushed Astra aside, poking his head through the door and holding her back as they spoke with someone in hushed tones. When a velvety feminine tone replied, his fingers curled around her wrist as he pulled her into the basement.

Before her eyes could even take anyone in, a gasp followed by amused giggles prickled at her skin.

They’d entered a workshop of sorts. Shelves held tools and trinkets spread out and numbered, neatly organized into rows of similarly shaped objects. In the corner was a sitting area comprised of worn-out, mismatched chairs, their fabrics faded by time.

Rising from one of them was a woman who stood eye to eye with the commander, her tall frame weathered by fine lines at the corners of her amber eyes.

Her deep skin was marred on one side of her neck with a shallow series of scars, healed over gods knew how long ago.

As Astra’s eyes settled on them, she pulled her onyx braids forward, letting them spill over her neck in a waterfall of beads that bounced off her leather vest.

“Astra, this is Maeve Maelstrom, the Captain of the Mercurian Nova Rebels.” Astra extended her hand, but Maeve’s wide-eyed stare gave her pause.

“You’re her spitting fucking image,” Maeve said quietly, scanning every freckle on Astra’s face. No colors flowed from her chest—she must have been trained by the commander.

“Oh,” Astra said, shrugging. “Yes, I look a great deal like my aunt.” A rivulet of crimson pulled at her nerves.

“Not Leona,” Maeve snorted. “Oestera.”

“My mother?” Astra tried to cover the shock.

“She doesn’t mean your face,” Luxuros said.

Mirquios flashed a grin. “Maeve has tricks, much like you. She sees auras that tell her about a person’s past, present, and future.”

“And you,” Maeve said, her bold red lips parting in a wicked smile. “Are a dead fucking ringer for Her Majesty the Queen.”

“You know my mother?” Astra asked.

Maeve snorted again, setting something on the shelf closest to them. “She knows nothing,” she said to Mirquios. She turned her gaze on Astra. “You know nothing.”

“Apparently.”

“You aren’t here for me to regale you with tales of our glory days,” Maeve said, pointing to Mirquios. “What have you got?”

“Lumas has been located,” Mirquios started.

Gods above, Ellume felt like a decade ago , Astra thought.

Maeve laughed, “Who broke Ivonne? Surely Daria didn’t suddenly grow a spine and stand up to Mommy.” Lux cleared his throat, eyes sliding over to Astra. “You, Princess?”

Astra frowned. “I might not know much, but I’m not completely useless.”

“And does your mother know the apple didn’t fall far from the Rebel Queen’s tree?”

Astra shook her head. “If she knew I was here right now, she’d have my head.”

Maeve flinched, her eyes widening, but she talked herself out of what she wanted to say. “Where is Lumas?”

“We’ve already dispatched a team to extract him. He was being held in a Lunar prison. As of this morning, he’s been relocated to an outpost in Venus.”

“Excellent. And Kwan?”

Mirquios shrugged. “Kwan’s numbers are outpacing the Lunarians, though he’s made little progress with the prince.

The Plutonian Court will join us in Lunaria for the Winter.

Arcas is to be the sole champion, though we’re doing everything we can to prevent the union.

” Mirquios cleared his throat, something tightening in his chest as he stood taller and smoothed his shirt.

Maeve turned her eyes to Astra again.

“Speaking of unions,” Maeve said. “What are we doing about this little mess?” She gestured between Astra and the commander, their eyes both flashing in panic. Whatever Maeve saw between them, whatever sparked as she stared, she understood in a heartbeat. She pushed her hand back toward the king.

“I thought we were to have an Autumn wedding, but we’ve clearly missed that mark.”

Mirquios nodded, his eyes avoiding Astra’s. “The timing was off. Now that we’ve returned, I’m sure we can remedy it soon.” He swallowed, a shiver settling in the spaces between Astra’s spine.

“Good.” Maeve’s eyebrows tucked together, unsure where to look.

“I’ve compiled an extensive report on my time with Pluto. Is Gnor here? I’d like to give them a full rundown.”

“They’re paying our friends in Mars a visit,” Maeve said, leaning over another table to search for something. “Seems they’re still struggling to get their communication networks built. That prince of theirs is green, but he’s trying his best.”

“Omnir?” Astra asked. “Is he a Rebel?”

Mirquios nodded. “He joined us last year. His father would crucify him, but he’s brave for a child.”

“You knew even during the Solstice?” Astra’s eyebrow raised, her arms folding over her chest.

The king’s lips twisted into an apologetic grin. “I had to knock him out of the running for your hand. He’s too inexperienced to let you rise to your fullest potential.”

“Well, how lucky I am to have such an experienced man paving the way for me.”

Luxuros choked on a laugh, leaning against the wall as he watched Astra’s cheeks flush. Mirquios sighed. “That’s not?—”

“No!” she barked. “I am thrilled to have all of you plotting on my behalf. Between you, my mother, and the commander, I merely have to decide which pretty dress I’ll wear each morning.

Imagine the godsdamned mess I’d be in if someone actually presented me with information and let me make my own decision. The havoc I’d wreak!”

“Princess,” Mirquios protested.

Astra held up her hand, letting a spark flicker to life on the end of her fingers, controlling the burn into a perfectly curled flame.

“Go on.” Astra’s lip curled in a sneer. “Or do I need your permission to speak, my king?”

“Spitting fucking image,” Maeve chuckled to herself.

Astra blew out the flame, a wisp of smoke rippling between them.

“Allain is in her office,” Maeve said to Mirquios. “Why don’t you and the commander?—”

A clambering in the stairwell broke her concentration, feet slamming against the landing and ripping the door open. The barkeep from upstairs huffed and clutched his chest as he stormed into the room.

“What in all two thousand and forty-eight gods is a Lunarian Queen doing in my bar?” He glared at Astra, her mind hazed by his question.

“I’m no que?—”

“Not you. Her.” He pointed upstairs and a dozen eyes followed his finger to the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, honing in on the energy above. An icy cloud of rose petals and silver stars waited, tapping her foot.

“Oh, shit,” Astra whispered.

Lux watched her face.

“Send her down,” the king said to the bewildered barkeep.

“She knows why we’re here.”