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Oestera raised her arm and Astra followed, setting her hand atop her mother’s.

They caught the downbeat and twirled again, twin leaves circling one another in the night air, falling to the polished stone floor in a decadent arc.

Their skirts traced intricate patterns around the ballroom, brushing against the shiny boots of the courtiers as they looked on.

The courtiers .

This was Astra’s one chance to take in the room before everyone was in motion.

She mimicked her mother’s movements perfectly, noticing the signature scarlets of the Martian Court just over her shoulder.

Their juvenile prince could not have been more than twenty, twenty-one—an infant by Lunarian standards.

Oestera twisted them back in the other direction, her braid whipping behind them. Astra had missed a step, forcing her mother to take up the lead. Astra’s ribs flared at the mistake, but her mother’s jaw unclenched in a silent apology.

“That’s a new dress,” Oestera remarked as they turned.

“A birthday gift,” Astra confessed. “From the Mercurian Court.” Something sparked in Oestera’s eyes, something Astra wasn’t sure what to make of.

“I have a question,” Astra said, choosing not to investigate.

She threaded herself below her mother’s arm and held her shoulders steady as she looked toward the crowd and dipped below her arm again.

“If I behave myself this week, make nice with the courtiers, ensure our alliances are in good shape… would you consider appointing me as the High Priestess of Celene?”

Oestera’s lips twisted, her hold on her emotions slipping momentarily. She twirled Astra away from her, a crushing navy tidal wave cresting over her lungs. Astra knew her answer before she spoke it.

“You will not be returning to Celene, Astra. In any capacity. Your duty is elsewhere.”

“You have Lunelle!” Astra cried, stumbling as she clung to the rhythm. “You have no need of me, Mother. Celene does. Desperately!”

“I have plans for you, Astra. I’m asking you to please trust me,” Oestera whispered, a harsh warning not to make a scene.

“What if I have bigger plans?”

Oestera did not immediately respond, the tension in her silence underscored by a run of low notes from the orchestra pit as the lullaby drew nearer to its end.

“Your duty is more important than your will, Astra. The sooner you learn that, the better. You’re not a child anymore, you’ve left that cycle behind. Tonight, you enter into your Mother years, and it is your sacred responsibility to care for your people, all of them. Not just Celene.”

There it was, in the way her brows tucked together. Final decision. No room for appeal.

A scarlet rage burned against Astra’s chest. She inhaled, cooling the hurt, no one here needed to watch her fall apart. It would only make all of this more impossible.

She turned to the courtiers, choosing to distract herself with her audience.

The music swelled for one final refrain as her eyes landed on a woman across the room, wrapped in sky-blue silks and feathers.

She shuffled toward the edge of the dance floor.

Her clay-colored hair was tucked into three neat buns down the back of her head, the sides shaved down to reveal two rows of ruddy tattoos flowing down her neck.

The runes were Earthen. She recognized them as the same insignia from her father’s old uniforms.

She was stunning, simply put. Everything about her implied power and confidence, one leg darting out of the seam of her dress, daring any of the men behind her to cross it.

Astra watched the stars above bounce off her tan skin, wondering briefly what they might feel like beneath her fingertips.

Mother Nature , Lunelle’s voice surprised her as it slipped into her mind, chasing away the rather pleasant vision she’d concocted to distract herself. She’s as mean as she is pretty. You two would either be the best of friends or mortal enemies. A romance is out of the question.

Sounds exactly like my type , Astra snorted. Way more fun than the Martian infant.

A familiar smile snagged Astra’s attention as she twisted in her mother’s arms. The tunic matched her gown perfectly.

A clever maneuver. His smile was entrancing on its own, but his eyes held her captive beyond any of his other notable features.

The Mercurian nodded his head, a soft curve of his lips sending a curious rush over Astra’s spine.

Oestera twisted them again, noticing Astra’s lack of focus. A vermillion irritation boiled over her guard before she followed Astra’s gaze, the angry orange fading into a docile amber as she seized the opportunity.

She dropped her daughter’s hand as the crowd applauded and pulled it forward through the dense crown, ushering Astra directly to the Mercurian.

“King Mirquios,” Oestera hummed, utter delight pouring off her shoulders. He was easily the most beautiful man Astra had ever seen. The king folded his head before her, tucking his strong jaw to his chest before smiling broadly and lifting the queen’s hands to his lips.

Are you… drooling? Over a man? Lunelle mocked her sister. Astra attempted to close her jaw, realizing too late that it was hanging open.

She rolled her eyes as her sister’s giggles bounced off the inside of her skull, recovering her face quickly as Mirquios dropped her mother’s hand and reached for hers.

It was damn near painful to hold such an intense gaze—but then again, when was the last time Astra had truly looked someone in the eyes?

“Astra Leona,” he said as he bowed, his voice as low and enticing as it was the night before. “Happy birthday, Princess.”

Astra managed a nod, but no sound came to her lips as her mother stared at her. Ever the social mastermind, she chirped, “I believe the next dance is starting!” And nudged her daughter forward.

The king’s hand slipped into Astra’s as she stepped back toward the floor. This time, thank the gods, other couples happily joined, taking some eyes of the room off her as chatter and laughter rose over the orchestra.

Though , who would want to look at anything other than him? She found herself thinking.

As the music strummed up, she stepped back in time with the strings and he easily followed, a hand landing on the small of her back as he held the other up, waiting for Astra to guide him across the floor.

“You’ve studied our customs,” Astra said with a smile, surprised. She’d had plenty of dignitaries over the years struggle to keep up without turning the dance into a power struggle.

The king laughed, a rumbling trio of notes. “Please. Do you know how nice it is to be led for a change?” His lilting accent ran over Astra’s shoulders like liquid starlight.

“So you like being told what to do, then?” Astra arched a brow, reveling in the burgundy flush that climbed his neck as they spun under the moonlight. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“I thought Fire Queen was just a nickname, but here I am, burning in your presence.”

Astra’s lips tilted into a dark smile as she spun him away from her and pulled him back in. “Thank you for the birthday gifts.”

The king’s eyes passed from the delicate cluster of jewels around her neck to her hips as he leaned in closer. “It was a tad selfish on my part, if I’m honest. To see such a beauty in Mercurian colors… that’s a true gift.”

Astra twirled under his arm and wrapped herself up in him before stepping away and linking her hand with his, facing the opposite direction of his bright gaze.

“Now, now. I’m sure you say that to all the Lunarian princesses.”

“You caught me,” he laughed, stepping around her in a ring. “I’ve said that to every Lunarian princess I’ve met tonight.”

“I knew it,” Astra said. “Scandalous.”

“I’ve been called much worse, Princess.” The king slid his hand behind her back as the orchestra worked up to a crescendo, brilliant notes suspended in the air between them.

“Astra,” she said, her breath tight. “I hate being called Princess.” She spun one more time as the music crawled to a soft finish, a final high note ringing out as the dancers stalled.

The king stared a hole right through her, that same cerulean curiosity from the night before welling up in his chest. “I wonder how you would feel about being called ‘Queen’?”

Astra raised a brow, completely unprepared for such a forward question. He bowed as a rush of strange colors pooled in her stomach. She considered following him as he wove his way back into the crowd, but her mother was already cutting across the floor, her hand attached to yet another dignitary.

“Kahlia Artemi,” she announced, slipping a golden hand into hers.

“High Regent of Venus.” Astra barely looked at the figure as she pulled them out onto the dance floor, shaking off the thrill of his question as the music started again, this time a spirited group dance.

A hazy rose glow settled around them as they stepped in time with the strings.

Kahlia was tall, with a thin, ethereal structure to their frame.

Gleaming gold braids rained over their shoulders, their cheekbones jutted out with the same sharpness she recognized in Ameera’s countenance.

Golden freckles bedazzled the smooth planes of their face, a lovely mark left by their time in the Sun.

“So lovely to finally meet you, Princess,” they cooed as they dipped their head toward the floor, ducking beneath the arms of other courtiers.

That sweet rose color carried into an aroma that flooded Astra’s senses, drowning any logical line of thinking she might have been able to hold on to in such a crowded space.

Unlike the king, who Astra imagined had been quite calculated in what he allowed her to ascertain of his emotions, Kahlia took full advantage of her abilities to perceive feeling.

Her head felt light as they turned, meeting in the middle of two lines to wrap up in each other’s arms before breaking again.

She’d studied the Inner Courts in depth.

Naturally, she’d gravitated toward Venus, intrigued by Ameera’s home court.

Devoted to the Goddess of Love, she knew Venusians held a potent ability to seduce and attract, but she’d not taken it seriously.

Reading about it was one thing, but experiencing it was another entirely.

Her eyes snapped upward as she heard her mother’s laugh from the edge of the ballroom, gesturing toward her as she spoke with the Martian prince.

Kahlia was not just charming her, Mirquios wasn’t flirting.

They were courting her.

All of them.

Ameera had been right, as usual. This wasn’t a solstice ball or a birthday celebration—it was an auction.

The sharp knot of betrayal in her gut tightened, a violet flood pushing the air from her lungs. Kahlia whisked her from one end of the floor to another as she played back her conversation with her mother in her mind.

Who had she told her to focus on? Omnir?

Kahlia leaned closer, the rose haze making it hard to breathe.

You need air! Lunelle’s voice pulled Astra from under the rosy tide. Gods, she was right. She could barely get her head above Kahlia’s spell.

“Thank you for the dance,” she gasped. They bowed to her and before Oestera could push her into the arms of Mother Nature or Prince Omnir, she darted into the crowd in search of her sister.

“She’s marrying me off!” Astra hissed when she found Lunelle. Her sister did not respond. Instead, she pulled her hands toward the edge of the ballroom.

The courtiers buzzed, the colors and textures of their thoughts and opinions ringing in Astra’s ears as she lost control over her perception. Their emotions became hers—excitement, curiosity, and judgment bubbling to life in her lungs.

She should have spent more time mentally preparing for court life.

She hadn’t considered how difficult it would be in a crowd.

She should have read between her mother’s lines the other day, should have known that this would be her plan.

Her intuition should have screamed at her the moment the note pulled her away from Celene.

Maybe it had. Maybe she’d ignored it. Fuck .

“You need to breathe, As,” Lunelle called out over the crowd. “I’ll cover for you, get out of the chaos.”

Astra could try to fight the rising bile in her throat, muscle through the fire igniting in her veins. Or she could slip beyond the arch and into the cool night air and shake off the pain in her fingertips.

“I’ll be back,” she huffed.

If she stayed, she risked showing everyone just how brightly the Fire Queen could burn.