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.