Rift | Chapter One

The clearing of a throat pulled Astra out of a spiraling thought.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her hands folding the book in her lap. She smoothed the silk of her skirt over her long legs, attempting to shake the mounting heat sizzling in her veins. The weight of something strange—unfamiliar—had pressed down on her shoulders a moment before, a shift in the air she wasn’t sure what to make of. 

Perhaps she’d merely felt the interruption in her morning gate duty coming. 

She did not have to look up to identify who begged her attention. The cool greens and blues of Cam’s inner world spilled over her, an energy she could pick out of a crowd of hundreds. The tranquility she’d come to expect of her friend faded quickly, overtaken by something hot, something grating. 

There, nestled between blood and bone, a bright spot of crimson worry on behalf of Astra.

Cam’s midnight-black hair floated on the breeze in a serene contradiction to her mood, spiraling deeper into uncertain reds by the second. 

Astra rose from her well-worn spot in the grass, bracing herself as her eyes dropped to the roll of parchment clutched in Cam’s tan fingers. 

“This came for you,” Cameren said. The nervous red swirled into angsty maroon within her lungs, unsettling Astra as she caught the royal seal along the scroll’s edge.

Ah. Of course.

Astra took her time gathering the half-drained mug of tea she’d perched on a gnarled root, buying time to work through her friend’s emotions before they became her own. 

When she surfaced, she took a long, slow breath hoping it would cool the fire brewing in her soul instead of stoking the vicious flames.

Cam’s focused sapphire eyes widened as Astra pinched the bridge of her nose. She could never fully understand the burden of Astra’s sensitivity, but she’d witnessed the chaos Astra reined when it consumed her. The women of Celene tried to conceal their emotions for Astra’s benefit, or at the very least mute them, but Cameren’s concern about the note’s contents overrode the hold she had on her feelings.

Astra reached for the parchment, tucking her book against her chest and balancing the mug on the edge of the spine. Cameren plucked them both from her hands as they strolled across the humble village, alive with the early-morning bustling of women tending to their duties. 

Astra weighed the paper in her palm, pursing her lips as it settled. “Hmm,” she sighed. “Feels like something I’m going to regret opening. Who brought it?”

“Someone new.”

“I suppose she wouldn’t chance sending someone with an affinity for me,” Astra laughed. “You can relax. I dreamed of a hatchling clawing my eyes out a few nights ago. Should have expected something from her Royal Highness soon.” 

She attempted a laugh, but the sound was too dark. Too heavy. Cameren didn’t need Astra’s heightened intuition to see the anxious tug at her sleeve as they passed through the village and down a set of steps carved into the cliffside before coming to a wooden platform. 

Cam reached forward and gently tugged on a fraying rope, ringing a bell at the city’s gate below. 

“What do you think it is?” she asked. 

“All the intuitive gifts in the world couldn’t tell me,” Astra muttered. 

Both women leaned over the platform, watching the pulley cart ascend the cliffs. Astra held the gate open for Cam, following her onto the small cart and steeling herself against the railing as the ropes began moving, lowering them into the city.

As they descended through the morning mist, the open-air moonstone towers of Celene emerged, overlooking the Somnia River racing out to sea. The unfiltered feelings of a thousand women permeated the air as Astra drew in a slow breath, readjusting her tolerance from the dozens of women in the village to the busy city streets.

Cam chewed her bottom lip as she hopped off the cart. “Perhaps a birthday note?” 

Astra cast a heated glare. “How many birthdays have passed without so much as a whisper?”

Cam nodded, weaving a trail from the pulley landing to the crystalline bridge over the river, sparkling in the half-Moon glow above. As Astra slipped her finger beneath the wax seal, a flock of young girls rushed them. 

“Astra!” One of the smallest girls chirped as they fell in a dense circle around the women. “Alura said you survived The Flare!” 

Both Cam and Astra flinched, unprepared for such a heavy hit so early in the morning. Astra tucked the scroll back under her arm, searching for the words—they were only children. They knew just enough to be dangerous to their elders. She glanced across their faces, each round with the benefits of full plates and uninterrupted sleep—they did not know the exhaustion of war or how their questions poked at ancient bruises.

“Who said that?” Astra asked calmly, maintaining a soft smile to soothe herself more than the girls at her feet. They shuffled, pushing one of the older girls to the front, her face lit with silver freckles and curious amethyst eyes. She could not have been older than ten or eleven, an infant practically. 

“Alura,” Astra repeated her name, a blush crawling over the girl’s face. The muscles in her back tightened as she exchanged a look with Cam. “Well. I do not think it’s fair to the brave people who lost their lives in The Flare to say I survived it. I was still in my mother’s womb, unaware of the Solar King’s cruel attack or the pain those who did survive endure, even to this day.” 

She blinked a vision away of the burn scars across her mother’s chest, always obscured by robes and high-necked gowns, but they were a presence in her life from even her earliest memories. Though, Astra knew the physical scars were nothing compared to the emotional damage inflicted on her mother—not that she’d ever allow either to show. 

She took another breath, digging deep within herself to be the leader she strived to be, despite wishing she could dissolve into the air and escape this topic entirely. 

“What other questions can I answer? Get them out now, ladies.”

Another tiny voice spoke up. “Is that why your hair is red?” 

Cam barked a laugh beside her. The innocence of the question hit the release valve they desperately needed. Astra laid a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you the truth—I’m not certain. Bloodlines can be finicky things, girls.” She winked at them, grateful they could leave this conversation on a lighter note. 

Cam pushed her shoulders back into an intimidating stance. “Now, if I go check the gardens right now, will today’s chores be done?” A chorus of nervous giggles sent the girls running toward the temple beyond the bridge, moving in one fluid mass of pastel braids and silver robes. 

Astra raised her eyebrows at Cam, who exhaled with a soft chuckle. They continued their trek into the city, the weight of the scroll in Astra’s arms growing with each step. Cam bumped her hip into Astra’s. 

“I heard your hair is red because you fucked Mars in a past life.”

Astra’s jaw dropped as she snorted and shoved her shoulder. “The gossip in this city is a rapidly spreading blight! You should do something about that, you know.”

“Ah! She does not deny it!”

Astra pursed her lips, a wicked smirk unfolding. “You act like you’d pass if the God of War propositioned you.” 

“A man? Please,” Cam scoffed. “Venus, however...”

They entered the tower at the very edge of the city, pale moonstone floors bouncing light back at them. Cam set Astra’s things on the abandoned desk at the front of the small library they frequented in the mornings. She knew Astra preferred to stay tucked away into the corner of her tower over the busy three-story collection of books in Celene’s center—here she could breathe easier, away from the constant waves of vivid color that plagued her strange senses with each fleeting feeling in her vicinity. 

“Why do you think they were talking about The Flare?” Astra asked as Cam sank behind a table she’d worked at late into the night, an aged map of a Neptunian city sprawled across the polished oak. She shifted one of the quartz markers she used to plot the city’s ports—a hobby she’d inherited from her mother’s fascination with the Outer Courts. 

“Same reason you aren’t talking about it,” Cam said, glancing up between crystals. “Next week is the gauntlet for you—isn’t it?”

Astra laughed at her phrasing, but as always, Cam was spot on. The Summer Solstice used to be a time of celebration, with week-long festivals and tributes to gods of the Court Above. Things were more somber now, thirty years after the Solar King killed the Lunar Queen and attacked the Inner Courts with a lethal light. The Flare left deep scars on the Lunar Court and her allied human courts, claiming thousands of lives. 

Now, the Summer Solstice was a solemn reminder of the bloodshed, marked by temple ceremonies and memorials. 

“You know what I never understood?” Astra said, tossing the scroll onto the table. “Why was my mother even in the Solar Court at all that day? She was living in the Earthen Court by then.”

“You… could ask her?” Cam eyed the scroll, treading lightly into the territory of Astra’s complex relationship with her mother. The arch of Astra’s brow was all the answer she needed. “I think you’ve avoided opening it long enough.” 

Her shoulders collapsed. Cam was right once again. She plopped into one of the plush armchairs and unfurled the note. 

It was simple. No flowery prose or birthday felicitations. Just a single line.

I need to speak with you.

A looped “O” punctuated the note, filling Astra with a heat she rarely allowed herself to feel. No ignoring it then. 

“The queen herself, hmm?” Cam leaned over her, scanning the note before Astra could tame the smoke rising to her lungs. “Should I have Riverion readied?”

“I suppose.” Astra folded the note and slipped it between the leather cover of her book and its fading pages. “But take your time. I’m in no rush.” Cam leaned out of the library door, catching someone’s attention. 

What Astra wished she could say was take all night—all week—but how long would the queen wait? She brushed her hands against the pale lavender silk of her robes, desperate for something to incinerate. 

How long had it been? She chewed on her thumb as she thought back to the last holiday she’d celebrated within the pristine walls of the palace. Was it the Winter Solstice ball she’d been thrown out of? Or was that an Equinox feast? 

She’d been wearing a red dress. She remembered that much. Autumnal, most likely. 

That was what? The two-thousandth and eighty-third Harvest Moon? Next week’s Summer Solstice would be the two-thousandth and eighty-sixth Strawberry Moon. 

Nearly three years.

The math was right, but it sounded impossible. 

She turned to Cam as she stared at her map. “You’ll send word if anything happens?”

“Of course,” Cam murmured, skimming over rivers and forests. “You know, Celene got along just fine for decades, perhaps even centuries, before you showed up.” A smirk played at Cam’s curved lips, her jewel-toned gaze ungluing from the map and meeting Astra’s. 

“Is that so?” Astra crossed one leg over the other, tossing the scroll back onto the table. 

Cam shrugged. “We weren’t as well-funded.”

“Is that all I am to you? A financier?” 

She wiggled her brows at her friend. “Certainly made taking in someone with your reputation easier.” 

Astra sat up straighter. “I haven’t set anyone on fire in nearly two years and you know it. Just admit you’ll miss me!” 

“Dearly,” Cam assured. “Aren’t you even a little excited to see your family?”

Astra’s heart stuttered. She so rarely allowed herself to think of the things she’d left behind in Lunaria, and even then, she avoided any faces entirely. Her sister’s silver eyes and brazen white hair flared in her memory before she could will the image away. Everything about Lunelle’s bright and frigid complexion contrasted Astra’s warmth—the girls were fire and ice from the moments they entered this world, crafted by the Mother herself to orbit one another. 

She unclenched her jaw. “Excited doesn’t feel like the right sentiment.” 

“Lunelle must miss you terribly?”

“I know she does,” Astra mumbled. A stack of letters bleeding with Lunelle’s elegant prose sat unanswered on her desk. Astra wrote when she could, but she’d neglected their correspondence over the last few months. “At least one person will be happy to see me.”

Cam sighed. “Please, your father thinks you hung the Moon.”

Astra waved her fingers between their faces, glowing with a faint lick of fire, fueled by her anxiety. “The flames hear you, but they don’t believe you.”

Cam nodded, knowing her friend far too well to attempt to soothe her nerves. She marked another mountain range with an azure crystal, one she always saved for her favorite spaces. 

“The thirtieth anniversary of The Flare, your birthday, and the Solstice all at once… can’t imagine why the queen would want to speak with you,” Cam chuckled to herself.

Astra’s lips dropped into a frown, out of reasons to delay her departure. “She’ll want me to stay at least through the Solstice. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s not that long.” Cam set another marker near one of Neptune’s moons. “You’ll be back here before you know it. Besides, who wouldn’t want the royal treatment on such a significant birthday?”

Astra rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure there will be many moonshine fountains in my honor. A parade, at the very least.” Astra reached across the table for a piece of obsidian, sliding it along the edge of Neptune’s capital city. “The southern side is more vulnerable.” She rose, smoothing her dress. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Bring that Ameera of yours back with you,” Cam muttered, tapping her finger against the obsidian. The corner of her mouth ticked up into a sorrowful smile Astra ignored for both their sakes. 

“I mean it, Cam. Even a whisper of something wrong and I can be back here in three hours. Two and some change if Riv is in a good mood.” 

Cam nodded, she understood the urgency Astra felt.

“Go then, before moonfall.”

Courting Death & Desire | Chapter One

Of all the feelings in the world to detest, Lunar princess Lunelle Aurellis hated the vibrations of uncertainty most.

She could tolerate a white-hot rage well enough.

Shivering nerves? Not ideal, but nothing she couldn’t subdue with a few deep breaths. 

A burning jealousy was uncomfortable, of course, but at least it stirred something intriguing within her. 

But the back-and-forth icy heat of simply not knowing what to do tingling in her spine was by far the worst of the fluttering emotions battling for dominance as she searched her vanity drawers for nothing in particular. She just needed to keep moving. 

“You don’t need to do that, Princess, we have it all handled,” her maiden, Lura, cooed as she folded a set of impossibly soft silk day dresses into a trunk. Her amethyst gaze watched Lunelle’s ticking fingers grasp for air. 

“I’m glad one of us does,” Lunelle sighed, leaning against the smooth iridescent opal of the vanity. She pulled at the ends of her silver curls, the candlelight of the sconce above casting an amber glow onto the blank canvas of her silk skin.

“It won’t be for long,” Lura assured her. “And aren’t you a little excited to see what lies beyond the walls of the Lunar Court?”

Lunelle’s pale pink lips folded into a soft pout. “A little. But I don’t like leaving Astra. Not with so much up in the air.” 

Lura squeezed her hand briefly as she moved about the room. “Why don’t you bring her in here, hmm? She’ll be a great distraction.”

Astra certainly was that. 

Come pack with me, Lunelle beamed toward the amber energy she’d grown to associate with her sister. She’d missed their shared silent conversations in Astra’s exile, but their little trick had snapped back between them with no effort at all. 

Astra’s raspy velvet tone echoed back. Be right there. 

Lunelle was wrong. There was a feeling she hated more than uncertainty. 

Sorrow.

Astra had spent the last three years exiled at their mother’s directive and was hardly home a fortnight before the Solar king’s movement in the Outer Courts was ripping them apart once more. 

She rolled her shoulders back, attempting to dispel the uncertainty pooling in her chest.

It was in Lunelle’s nature as the ever-cautious eldest sister, the heir to the Lunar throne, to remain poised under pressure. Her head shook side to side as she searched for one of her journals in her nightstand. 

That wasn’t actually true. It wasn’t in her nature at all. 

It was in the painstaking nurture she’d endured those thirty-some-odd years beneath her mother’s weighty wing. 

Everything from the way she held her chin as courtiers spoke—angled just so to appear engaged and open to the speaker no matter the subject—to the speed at which she set her fork down—too quickly could be seen as a declaration the meal was over—was carefully curated by thousands of years of women who could never shake the weight of judging eyes on their shoulders. 

Lunelle tucked a few leather-bound journals into a bag as several maidens poured into her room, whisking through her things as Lura directed them. Her sister’s fiery curls followed, casting a warm glow around the room that almost soothed her nerves. 

Almost. 

Lunelle could not stop the lingering fear from manifesting in a mumbled, “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Of course,” Astra agreed. Her lips pulled into a tight line as she stretched the muscles in her long legs, wincing as she tried to block out the dark rumblings in Lunelle’s chest. 

Lunelle envied many things about her younger sister, but her constant vulnerability to the ever-shifting emotions in any given room was not one of them. Some things were better left to interpretation—but Astra had no such luxury as her intuition translated every passing feeling into overwhelming color. 

Lunelle tamped her anxiety down, finding that well of swirling ink where she kept most feelings from the time Astra’s abilities became clear to the rest of the family. 

“I’ve been training my whole life for this,” Lunelle forced through a pained smile. It was true—she had spent her entire life navigating the complex politics between the Inner and Outer Courts, she had just always assumed she’d be crowned queen by the time she had to put any of it into practice. 

“And you’ll have Mother, for better or worse,” Astra sighed. She sat up against the bed, folding her legs beneath her rather like she would when they were just girls. 

“Right,” Lunelle agreed. 

She didn’t say she feared it would be for the worse. 

“Right,” Astra repeated. 

In her thirty years of life, Astra had never responded to her in a single word. Dread tugged at Lunelle’s heart once more. 

“Mother above, Astra. This is it, isn’t it?” She reached for a satchel of dried lavender from the nightstand to press into the toes of her favorite boots. Lura slipped behind her, snagging the boots and casting another warning glare. The bile in her stomach rose a touch higher into her throat. “This will be the start of the next intercourt war. It will define my entire reign and I’m not even on the throne yet!” 

Astra hopped off the bed and closed the distance between them. Her warm touch as her hands came to rest against Lunelle’s shoulders did little to ease the chill settling between vertebrae in her spine. Astra’s fiery gaze held hers, widening as Lunelle gently sifted through her fears and found new places to tuck them out of sight. 

“Lu,” her sister said, squeezing her shoulders. “Mother does not want a war. Mirquios does not want a war. Pluto certainly doesn’t want a war. The majority of the courts are on our side and will want to settle things peacefully. This is an exercise in diplomacy, nothing more.” 

“Do you really believe that?” Lunelle asked.

“Absolutely,” Astra said with a feigned conviction. It was a lie, and not one of her better ones. Lunelle appreciated the effort all the same. “Solaris has been silent for thirty years! Mother has spent my entire life preparing for her chance to shut Solan down.”

That was the truth—whether her nervous system believed it or not. Their mortal enemies a thousand times over, the Solar Court hadn’t caused so much trouble since their last attack three decades earlier. But things shifted quickly. 

“You’re right,” Lunelle sighed. She didn’t like admitting defeat to anyone other than Astra. “Thank you,” she added. 

Astra brushed her fingertips against her sister’s delicate complexion, the slightest hint of a frown pulling at her lips. 

“You’ll return home to me in a week or two, and we can forget this whole awful mess.” 

Molten tears welled against Lunelle’s starry eyes—not because she was afraid, but because in all the panic since news had arrived of Pluto’s removal from the Outer Courts, Lunelle had nearly managed to forget that this was not a temporary separation for the sisters.

No matter what happened in the Plutonian Court, no matter what resolution they were able to come to, they’d return home, and Astra would marry the King of Mercury and leave her side forever.

Lunelle winced. “Just in time to marry you off,” she said. 

Astra’s shoulders stiffened.  “Let’s take this hour by hour, shall we?”

Lunelle stepped away from her sister’s grip and slid another stack of books into her trunk. She did not even look at their titles or care much at all about what they were. She simply needed something to do with her hands. 

The tears made another attempt to spring forth. Biting them back, she leveled her tone.

“I suppose you should go say your goodbyes to your betrothed.” 

Astra let a tight breath slip between her lips. “I suppose I should.” She winked as she patted her sister’s shoulder once again. “I had Ameera slip a few satchels of tea into your bags, just in case Pluto is a desolate wasteland.” 

Astra did not hesitate at the door as she left, off to bid her fiancé farewell. 

Mirquios.

Lunelle had yet to speak to the man since his court’s arrival in the Lunar Court. 

He’d made his intentions clear from the moment he strutted into Astra’s birthday ball—he was after a Lunar princess for his throne. She’d understood, of course, it was as strategic an alliance a Living Court could make. 

What mere man wouldn’t want a Lunar demigoddess at his side in the face of certain war? 

Especially one rumored to have such a grip on the Lunarians’ mysterious ancient magic. Astra defied its bans simply by existing. 

While Lunelle believed the notions of her sister’s powers to be greatly misunderstood outside of the bounds of the Lunar Court, all it would take is one conversation, one catch of Astra’s incisive gaze across a ballroom even, to know the second-born Lunar princess was something different. 

Something more. 

And even if Lunelle could fault the young king for being charmed by her sister—which though she tried, she couldn’t—she certainly could not deny their fate once Astra revealed their union to be ordained by the gods themselves through that godsforsaken Tether. 

Lunelle dodged a maiden as she cut through the room. She slipped along the wall and to her window, determined to stay out of the way. Below, in the palace gardens, the Venusians bathed in the soft moonlight, their ethereal bone structures catching and holding onto any light they could. 

“Do not forget to pack her long sleeves,” a commanding voice cut into the room. 

Lunelle spun as her mother, Queen Oestera, strolled into her bed chambers with High Priestess Tula on her heels, dutifully scribbling notes as the queen spoke. 

“It’s the middle of Summer,” Lunelle protested.

Her mother stopped, her endless celestial gaze searing against Lunelle’s skin. 

“Pluto may be a great distance away, but they still see the Sun, darling. You’ve yet to contend with its harsh burn.”

“Oh.” It was all she had to offer. She hadn’t considered how drastically different the Plutonian Court might be from hers. She’d hardly had time to come around to the fact that she was heading away from home at all, let alone as far away as possible. “And you’re certain you need me there?”

Oestera tilted her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I will not always be here, Lunelle. This war will be fought for years, not months. It’s important the Inner Courts see you as the leader you were born to be, and this summit in Pluto is an excellent chance for us to hone your skills as the Lunar queen.” 

The words settled like stones in her gut. 

“The prince—”

Oestera waved her hand. “He is young. Frightened. He has no one to guide him through the disaster he’s found himself in. We can be the wisdom he so desperately needs.” The queen pointed to a set of delicate pearls, their pale blues and whites swirling on a gilded chain. “Pack those, as well. They bring out her eyes.” 

Lura darted forward silently and plucked the strand of pearls from Lunelle’s vanity to pack away. 

“And are we concerned about this prince noticing my eyes?” Lunelle asked, a brow raised.

Her mother shrugged, eyes focused on another sparkling set of gems. 

“If we find the prince to be amiable, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be considered for your coronation trial.” Tula and Oestera exchanged a quick glance, Tula’s pen gliding across her parchment as she tracked another string of thoughts. “We’ll leave within the hour,” Oestera declared, sweeping from the room.

Lunelle sank her hip into the bay beneath her window, her pale complexion somehow holding even less color. 

“You forgot about your trial in all the excitement,” Lura said quietly, handing Lunelle a cup of warm tea. 

“I hadn’t forgotten about the trial,” Lunelle corrected her. “But perhaps I’d forgotten about the champion aspect.” 

Forgotten was generous—she’d damn near forced it out of her mind as the day drew nearer. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the ritual itself. The coronation trial held a beautiful significance for both her family and her court, but she’d never quite understood why she couldn’t go it alone—why champions were forced to participate and compete for her hand. 

Lunelle blushed a deep strawberry, annoyed by the image of a man beside her at the end of the trial as if he would bear the same weight in any form. 

Lura hummed quietly beside her as the rest of her maidens cleared out, pulling trunks and garment bags behind them. 

“Much can change beneath the Summer Sun, Princess,” Lura murmured.

Lunelle turned toward the window, watching the Venusians trickle toward the Lunarian Gate. They fell gently into the Rift’s myriad of colors whirring beyond the crystalline arch, letting it take their lithe frames up and into the ether—no hesitation, no fears. 

None of that godsdamned uncertainty that whispered into her ear, even now.

What do you actually want?

* * *

Lunelle watched her sister dart back into the palace, her shoulders tense as she eyed the Rift humming beyond the gardens. 

The Mercurians did not hesitate to slip into the current of colors, falling back into the mystic river from the edge of the Lunar Gate’s platform with a frivolity she envied. 

“It is simple,” her mother assured her. “Not nearly as daunting as it appears.”

Lunelle bit her lip, watching the Lunar Sentry and maidens begin their entrances into the Rift. 

“You’ll fall in, but it cradles you in a way, it doesn’t feel like a free fall. You’ll locate the Plutonian thread—it’s a deep sapphire—and grab hold. It will pull you to the Plutonian Gate, and that’s that.”

“That’s that!” Lunelle chirped, blushing as her mother glared.

“This is the least of your challenges, darling.”

She sighed, stepping forward onto the moonstone platform, the amethyst gate arching overhead. “And we’ll only be there for a week or two?”

“One can hope,” Oestera muttered. “But diplomacy takes time.”

“Of course,” she huffed.

“At your leisure, my dear,” Oestera said, holding her hand before her.

Lunelle edged toward the end of the platform, the Rift’s sweeping colors brushing against the toe of her slippers. She held her breath, twisted, and let herself go, soaring across The System with her eyes closed.  

“Grab the thread, Lunelle!” Her mother’s voice echoed against the strands of light. She forced her eyes open, two threads over her head in sparkling shades of blue.

“Which blue?” she yelled, but no one answered.

Her eyes darted from the lighter to the darker. Something within her called out to the latter, begging her to touch the dark-as-night sapphire glimmer. 

She reached out and wrapped her silver fingers around the thread, and she was gone.

Risk | Chapter One

The ring hadn’t felt quite so heavy when the Martian prince first slid it over her knuckle, had it? 

Perhaps the collective fawning of onlooking courtiers had distracted her from its heft. Oestera flexed her fingers, desperate to circulate some blood as her sister spoke.

“We’re headed to Venus tomorrow,” the Mercurian king added after something she hadn’t heard. She should have been listening—Leona needed her to pay attention. The sisters had wrapped themselves up in a particular danger that required everyone to stay alert, but from the moment that ruby settled on Oestera’s hand, she’d felt anything but. 

Leona paced forward in the shadows of The Dune, Mercury’s Nova Rebellion hideout, and rested a finger on one of Maeve’s oddities, her red curls woven tightly into a neat braid. Oestera had always admired the soft pastel greens and silvers that ran through everything in Mercury, sparkling beneath their jade banners, and The Dune’s basement was no exception. 

Leona reached a strong hand toward the king, nodding as she spoke with a clarity Oestera envied. 

“Earth is arriving at the Lunar palace at any moment. We’ll wine and dine them this week and feel them out. My sources believe Mother Nature will be thrilled with a chance to stick it to the gods.” 

“The numbers are on our side,” a low thunder rumbled from the corner. The soft golds and bronzes of the Solar king washed over the shelves of strange findings as he approached. 

Solan was broad and tall and angular in all the ways a demigod ought to be, mirroring Leona’s enticing warmth, but there was a coolness to his demeanor that the Lunarians did not possess. Oestera forced herself to look away as her sister’s chest caved inward, that nightmarish string between the pair pushing an ancient curse through their veins. 

She understood the Tether was a compelling force, but she still struggled to grapple with how much Leona would give up for a man she could never truly be with.

“I had a full map of the courts drawn up to track our progress,” Maeve, the Nova Captain, said, handing each leader a thick scroll. “I didn’t want to send them through the Rift, just in case. Take them with you, and Oestera?” She leaned closer to the young princess, her bright green eyes always seeing far more than Oestera could tolerate. “What’s going on with the…” Maeve gestured vaguely to her chest, her eyes slipping around the room as though she’d missed someone entering at the start of their meeting. 

Oestera twisted the ring faster around her rapidly chafing flesh. 

“The what?” 

Maeve pointed a gloved finger at her. “Something in there is weird. Different.” 

Oestera shrugged, never certain of what Maeve saw with those strange eyes. They were capable of drawing so much information from anyone in their path. 

She climbed the steps behind her sister, Leona’s shoulders carrying a tension she’d started to associate with the Solar king’s presence. The pair paused at the top of the steps, a weighted silence falling between them dark enough to push Oestera out into the early Mercurian Sun. 

She folded her arms and let the amber rays soak into her skin as she listened for the shuffling of boots and sniffling of a pained farewell. Solan brushed past her, tapping her shoulder just once—it was all he could ever give when he walked away from Leona. 

Oestera turned, catching her sister’s fiery gaze, but Leona merely shook her head.

Fate had been cruel to them, indeed. 

Leona remained silent as they darted back through the Mercurian palace, hardly stopping to check for Oestera before she dove back into the Rift. They’d only just settled back onto the Lunar palace’s cobblestones before Leona sighed.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

She left Oestera alone in the gardens, the Moon’s silver light brushing against blossoming trees as petals released sweet perfume into the dark sky. Oestera glanced toward the tower she shared with Leona in the palace, but decided the cool Spring air was worth enjoying for a few more moments. 

She perched on the edge of a fountain, watching her reflection ripple and bend in the water below. A deep pull in her muscles threatened to cramp between her ribs as she inhaled slowly. She released the breath as a cacophony of boots against pavers yanked her away from her reflection. 

Dozens of soldiers—Earthen, she could tell from their clay-dusted leather and mossy green tunics—flooded the garden. They appeared from the Rift’s whirring colors one after the other as maidens flocked toward their trunks, welcoming them to the Lunar Court. 

Aponi, Mother Nature, faded into the garden, a torrent of gilded feathers and Sun-kissed skin. Leona had always admired the Earthen regent, and it was easy to see why. Like Leona, Aponi commanded every surrounding eye.

As they rushed past, Oestera’s gaze followed the queen, distracted by the way the entire mass of soldiers moved in gentle currents around her. Her hand came to her chest, an ache catching her breath as she watched the horde disappear into the palace.

“Princess?”

The voice was low, warm—it reminded her of the way it felt to cradle fresh tea in the Earthen clay mug Leona had brought back for her after a visit. 

Oestera turned toward the voice and, though her body stopped moving, the entire world took up in a swaying motion she couldn’t explain. The garden toppled in circles, the moonblossoms rustling as her head spun and her chest cracked open. 

It was not slow like she’d read it would be in romance novels and poetry.

It was not met with an overwhelming sense of love and clarity.

No, Tethering to the Earthen soldier stepping from the shadows was an undeniable disaster.

The thread between them tightened as she fought for a breath. Her hand reached for the strange anchor within her sternum but found nothing physical to grasp. The soldier did not move, his amber gaze wide as it settled on the glinting stone wrapped around her ring finger. In one breath, Oestera’s entire world collapsed, and she painfully understood what her sister had been battling for years now.

Why Leona always rushed off to her room and wept whenever they parted. 

Why she’d lost her ability to speak when Solan had been forced to wed a Jovian princess, and when their own mother had set the date for Leona’s coronation trial. 

Why her bright eyes faded to such a hollow shade as the years wore on between them.

Oestera understood it all, and she thought she might be able to cleave the entire universe in two with the rage that bubbled in her blood as she realized how utterly cruel the gods were. 

“Princess?” he asked again, forcing her eyes to his. 

Handsome was too dull a word—he was more than that. More than his form. She could feel it buzzing in the air between them, she could see it swirl in the warmth of his eyes. He was kind—such a rarity amongst the nobility she suffered to blend into, but his was a pure thing. 

A gilded thing. 

“I—I do not know what to say,” he mumbled, running a hand through dark waves before resting it over his chest, surely aching with the same sweet sting that suffocated her. 

“I’m so sorry,” Oestera whispered, a misery clinging to her spine as the urge to bolt fizzled in her muscles.

And then she did. 

* * *

“Wait!” 

She heard him—of course she heard him—and every tendon in her body begged her to stop running, to turn and throw herself into the stranger’s arms. 

But everything in her mind screamed faster, farther. 

Oestera cut into the palace, his boots slamming against the moonstone floor as she tried to form a plan. 

She could slink into the library and lose him between the shelves, but he was already so close to catching her. She could slip into the passages in the walls the maidens used to travel quickly from wing to wing, but the thought of being trapped with him in the narrow halls, in the dark… 

Gods above, get it together, she barked at herself. 

She banked left, breaking away down a wide hall lined with crystal busts of queens both past and current. Her boots slapped against the obsidian tile in rapid succession as she skidded to a halt at the end of the hall. The bust of her mother followed her with quartz eyes as she debated her options.

There were not many.

“Princess,” he huffed, leaning his hands over his knees. “Please!”

“No!” Oestera screeched, holding her hands out. She looked to her right and left, she’d boxed herself into a corner. “Godsdammit!” 

“Well,” he gasped, stretching as he fought to catch his breath. “You’d never know I was once one of the Inner Court’s most respected lieutenants. I’ve gotten soft.” 

Oestera’s eyes narrowed as he drew closer, the foreign cord between them buzzing with each step. 

“Was that—” she started.

His brow arched, an amused smile unfurling between them. 

“The Tether? It’s that or I’ve finally lost my last shred of sanity.”

“Quite inconvenient,” she said beneath her breath, her heart pulling and aching as he rocked back and forth in his stance. 

He winced. “I’ve been called worse, I suppose.” 

Oestera rolled her eyes. “This cannot happen,” she declared.

The soldier glanced from her face to the crystalline gaze of her mother beside her.

“Well, at least your looks will hold up. Bodes well for me.” 

Oestera’s jaw fell, an annoyed squeak cutting between them. 

“Bodes well! We’re complete strangers!”

He nodded as he pushed at the muscles in his chest. “Of course. Yes. Apologies, a tad forward of me.”

Oestera pulled at the end of her braid. He took another step toward her, forcing her back in equal pace until her shoulders hit the wall. His eyes fell once more to Selenia’s bust, widening as the sconces in the hall flickered within the reflective surface. 

His words were velvet as they tumbled between them, soft to the touch. 

“But it’s somewhat inevitable… isn’t it?”

“What is?” she asked. 

He waved his hand between them, a ripple within the Tether disturbing her chest. 

“I don’t think we can undo it, Princess.” The curve to his lips sent a shiver through her. She held his gaze, tilting her head as she measured the distance between their toes. 

It was not far enough. 

“You know nothing about me,” Oestera said. “I could be vile.”

His head dropped to his chest as he chuckled. 

“Impossible.”

“Perhaps I’m a bad lover.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am a very good one, and you look like a fast learner.”

Her shoulders tensed. She shouldn’t have encouraged his delusion. And she definitely shouldn’t have enjoyed it so godsdamned much. 

She lifted her chin, staring up at him as he edged closer. 

“I could be a cruel wretch, determined to destroy you.”

He shrugged. “I love a challenge.”

Oestera clenched her jaw, if only to prevent herself from leaning forward and giving in to the sick desire in her heart. 

“You’re a masochist!” 

“Absolutely,” he agreed again, his voice falling lower. He was only a breath away, the heat of him competing with the friction of the Tether leaping in the space between their chests for her attention. “Or perhaps I am merely a man who knows when I’ve found something I cannot live without.”

Her eyes softened, the blood in her fingers begging to reach forward and rest over his beating heart. 

“This cannot happen,” she murmured once more as he leaned toward her, his fingertips brushing at the outer layer of her skirt. 

“Mmhmm.”

“I mean it,” Oestera insisted, though she did not lean away from him. “It would be detrimental to the courts.” 

“Of course.”

Oestera’s lips parted, a wave of intoxicating indifference to the ring on her finger drowning any of the rigid sensibilities her mother had instilled in her from birth. 

“Please,” she whispered.

His lips brushed the edge of her temple. She inhaled the very breath he exhaled, the dark alchemy of it ruining the appeal of fresh air for the rest of her life. 

“Please kiss you senseless, or please release you from this torture?” 

She knew the answer she had to choose, but gods above if she wasn’t tempted to go with the former. Her eyes flickered over his sharp jaw, holding his gaze as she broke his heart. 

“I told you, I’m determined to destroy you.” 

He leaned away, tucking his hands behind his back, his eyes falling to the floor. The guilt was crushing—she was not prepared to feel such agony at disappointing him.

“I’m sorry—”

“Please,” he said sharply. “Do not apologize.”

She sighed, her lips parting again.

“I mean it. I understand,” he insisted, twisting away from her. “Good evening, Princess.”

“Good evening,” she mumbled, realizing she did not even know his name. 

But she knew what his Soul felt like, the glittering warmth of him fading quickly as he vacated the hall. Exhaling slowly, the pain in her chest did not release. 

It merely spread.

She looked to her mother’s bust, a permanent frown carved into the crystal. 

“I will never forgive you for this.”