Page 149 of Rift
“You there, Mercurian child, look how you’ve grown under the harsh Sun. Your great-grandmother was just bragging to us at a party about how excited they are for a Lunar Queen.” Selenia held her hand out for Mirquios, who did not have to act terrified. It came quite naturally.
Astra relinquished her hold on him. He tentatively stepped toward her, joining the Lunar Goddess in the middle of the floor.
“I understand there’s an arrangement made here already, but Astra, my dear girl, surely you understand that bigger games are at play?”
Astra nodded slowly, unsure of how she should be reacting. The confusion aided in the illusion as Oestera’s eyes flickered between them, horror rolling off her. Nayson was ready to burst.
“Mercury has proven themselves worthy of a Lunarian woman already, but perhaps the Lunar Court needs young Mirquios’s eyes more than Pluto’s... modest offering.”
Arcas’s temper flared, his lips tightening, but he was raised in the same calculated void they all were—his muscle memory snapped his rage into submission.
Selenia sneered at him. “I suppose only the trial will tell.”
“Mother—”
Selenia held her hand up to Oestera’s face, silencing her in a way Astra had never seen done. “It is decided, Oestera. What happens tomorrow is up to Fate.”
“But Astra… the Tether?—”
Selenia’s eyes trained on Astra, a blaze of holy fire within them.
“Sometimes we get things wrong, Oestera. Surely you can understand that. Astra is a strong girl. She’ll do whatever it takes to secure her court, will she not?”
Astra nodded, swallowing, reminding herself that this should be devastating. She let a single tear fall, wiping it gently with her gloved hand.
“There we have it. Mirquios is to compete in the trial against Arcas, and we’ll have a real show to watch in the Court Above. Although...” Every eye in the room slid from Selenia’s face to Astra’s, then to Lunelle’s in synchronized disbelief.
The sharp edge in her tone dragged over Astra’s skin like a blade.
“One champion is so very dull. Two is interesting...” Selenia stepped in a circle, soaking up every ounce of apprehension in the room. “Three,” she laughed. Her cold eyes fell on Astra. “Three’s enticing. You’re in quite the predicament, Oestera,” the goddess continued, pacing along the edge of the crowd. “The Solar king is mounting an attack, he’s already invaded Saturn and Jupiter. Is Pluto really the best Outer Heir you can do?”
Arcas opened his mouth but shut it just as quickly as she pivoted on her heel.
“Did you even attempt to find a stronger alliance?”
Oestera’s jaw tightened. “I?—”
Selenia huffed, “Spare me, Oestera. Luckily, as always, I’ve done the work for you. My right hand discovered something quite fascinating when your second-born came to visit me.”
Astra’s mother’s eyes widened, any evidence of her calm mask now disintegrated. Astra watched the floor, ashamed at the pain in her expression.
Selenia continued with little regard for her daughter’s emotions. “It’s always the secondborn that breaks your heart, wouldn’t you agree, Oestera? Now, you younger lot may not know this—it’s not well documented in the Living Courts—but there’s only one way to get through the Court Above’s gates outside of a Solstice or Equinox. No mere mortal can pass.”
Astra felt it before she said it, in her bones, bouncing between vein and vessel.
“Now, a demigod has certain privileges. So color me intrigued when a certain commander came to collect my granddaughter.”
Astra searched for Lux, the panic crawling through her chest in muddy rivers of colors too complex to name. Lux, she sent, but nothing connected. His mind was too fogged over.
“And now that I see you, Commander, the resemblance is truly uncanny. Wouldn’t you say, Oestera?”
Oestera twisted, finding Luxuros in the crowd. He stepped forward, his chest a hurricane of alarming sunset oranges. Astra flinched. Her feet strained to cross the ballroom and get between them, but Mirq’s hand caught her arm.
Selenia frowned. “Well?”
Oestera did not speak, but Astra saw it in her eyes, the spark of recognition. The details she’d missed when she revisited The Flare. The slope of his bronze nose, the amber eyes, the proud shoulders bred to carry courts, scarred by Solan’s pain.
“Luxuros Soleras,” Selenia gave a sick grin—a wolf spotting a wounded rabbit. “The heir to the Solar Throne. Two thousand years of trials and we’ve never had a champion of your lineage for obvious reasons... but it does make one wonder.”
