Page 126 of Rift
Astra took her silence as permission to keep going.
“I dreamed I was in Solaris, during The Flare,” she lied. “And Leona was there, as well as the king. And you, of course.”
“Oh?” she asked, her face somehow even more pale than usual.
“But there was someone else there that I found peculiar. Selenia.”
Oestera’s eyes narrowed, her curiosity outweighing her reservations. “I see. And what was her role?”
“I’m not sure. She wasn’t really there, of course?”
She did not answer right away. “Not that I know of.”
“An odd dream then. I know so little of your mother.”
Her mother sighed. “I do not wish to speculate on something so painful.”
She nodded, “Understood, but?—”
“Please,” Oestera said, her eyes finding Astra’s in a rare moment of sincerity. “Whatever you think you know, leave me out of it. You must,” she said, the words landing like harsh winds against her skin. Her face took on a shade of pink that Astra recognized many times over. “I cannot give you more.”
She stood, brushing her dress back with a violent whip, her chest caving in as she turned to leave.
“You’re afraid.” Astra narrowed her eyes, the orange ripple rising off her shoulders. What a strange reaction. “What does she have on you?”
Oestera closed her eyes and gripped the bridge of her nose. She glanced at Astra one more time and something within her turned over. Her eyes widened and refocused.
“Where did you find that dress?”
“What?” She looked down, a gentle green silk draped over her frame. “Ameera left it out for me.”
“Of course,” she said, sweeping from the table and disappearing into the palace, leaving Astra with more questions than answers.
She tried to shake off her mother’s strange reaction all day, but even after the wedding dress fitting and dinner, Oestera’s frozen glare was still fresh in her mind as she finished a few letters to Celene in her study.
If Oestera didn’t want to tell her the truth, she was going to have to figure it out herself.
She’d waited until it was late enough in the night that no one would catch her and sat on the study floor, trying to let the entire cursed day melt away. Her mind stilled and she let it slip, following it down the trail as she fell inside herself. The feeling was less alarming now. She knew what to expect, concentrating on finding her mother in the moments before The Flare.
Astra’s feet hit the ground, but instead of the obsidian tiles of the Lunar Palace, she found herself smack in the middle of a sunstone courtyard, everything bright and airy, the smooth walls rippled with reds and oranges.
But it was the scent that drowned her—sweet orange blossom and warm, toasted honey floated over the afternoon breeze. Everyone around her wafted across hallways in breezy linen and cotton robes, their skin the same deep bronze as Lux’s.
She moved quickly, unsure how much time she would have or if others could see her the way Ehlaria or the commander had. She’d surely stick out with her pale face and velvet Winter dress.
She waited for her mother’s signature chill to call to her, Oestera’s energy frenetic as it moved through a room nearby. Astra shuffled quickly along the hallways. The walls dripped with gilded artwork and sparkling tapestries. Slipping by sentries and servants, she stopped only when she felt Oestera through a wall.
Astra did not give herself time to second guess before simply passing through the wall, finding herself in a cozy study, a glass pane in the ceiling spilling golden light into the room.
“It cannot be done,” said a baritone voice, fraught with regret and fear.
The Solar King Solan rose from his desk, his face set in a familiar reluctant expression. A suffered blend of challenge and sorrow. Solan stepped forward, the light above illuminating his deep-set amber eyes as they fell to a face she knew so intimately. A face that could be hers in just a few years.
Leona kneeled on the floor, her crimson curls spilling over her shoulders as she tucked her chin to her chest.
Not a posture Astra would have expected to find a Lunar Queen in.
“Then do not attempt it,” another voice said from the corner. One that echoed off the canyons of her mind frequently—criticizing, cutting. Oestera sprang forward, her face not yet touched by the burdens of raising her children, her belly swollen beneath her ornate gown.
