Page 95 of Rift
Astra shook her head, baffled at his report. “I’m so tired of being the last to know things, Commander?—”
“Astra,” Loleena interrupted. “This man has intercepted—what number did you say?”
Lux flinched. “A dozen... ish.”
Loleena rolled her eyes. “A dozenish assassination attempts on your life and we only kept it from you so you could focus on figuring out what’s going on with Selenia and the Rift. We all made the decision. He actually wanted to tell you after last week’s incident, but with how hard you were taking the kill, he didn’t think you needed the blood of dozens of other spies on your hands.”
Astra turned to Lux. “Dozens? Plural? How many, really?”
He sighed, his eyes squeezing shut. His hand wandered into his pocket, pulling out a long string of gilded beads. He tossed them at her feet.
“That many.” She scooped the chain from the twisted grass and swallowed. Each bead was carved with runes like the ones she’d seen on the Solarian cuffs in the crystal ball. She wondered briefly which bead belonged to the Solarian that used it to locate her in Celene.
There were at least thirty of them. “What are these?”
“Solarian soldiers wear a signet bead braided into their hair to identify their specialties and rank. The one on the end technically belongs to you.” Astra ran her thumb over the most recent bead, the metal absorbing the heat from her hands. “He was higher ranking than the others we’ve seen. They’ve been escalating over the last few weeks.”
“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Loleena cooed. “The Midwood is flooded with sentries from all over the court to protect you and your family, Astra. Not that you seem to need it, these days.”
She sighed, her shoulders much heavier suddenly. She handed the beads back to the commander, a swirl of emotions coalescing into something resolute in her heart.
“I want a full briefing with all of you the second the Equinox is over.”
“Even Daria?” he asked, a slight smile returning to his lips.
She snorted. “Okay, most of you.”
“Done,” he said, stuffing the strand of beads back into his pocket.
“Well, my buzz is sufficiently dwindled. Might we get back to the celebration?” Loleena did not wait for them to reply before disappearing into the realm between. Lux did not share Astra’s same hesitation at the shimmering barrier between here and there, fading into the mirage before she could muster up the courage. She’d always struggled with that first step.
Between what she’d just learned and the gnawing feeling in her gut anytime she passed into the barrier, she needed a moment to breathe.
His hand reached back through the shimmering wall, bronze fingers suspended in the forest air. Astra held her breath, forcing her mind to still for a moment before she reached for them. Lux tugged her through the strange mirage and into the glowing trees of the vibrant Elven village. Every tree was wrapped in golden ribbons and freckled with amber lights. The branches teemed with elves in their very best.
It was a breathtaking distraction. Loleena cocked her head toward a set of oak stairs lined with gilded moonblossoms. Everything was coated in a fine sparkling dust and music came from all directions in the village, each little pocket filled with its own flavor of jovial sounds—dancers, drinkers, and gamblers. Children lit paper lanterns and released them from the tops of the trees, letting them fly off into the night, drifting on their giggles.
Astra had never been there during a holiday, and she regretted every single one of them she’d missed.
“Ehlaria thought you might be our guests this evening,” Loleena said, leading them through a swinging moss-covered bridge across the village. Dancers spun in circles below them on a large central deck. Astra was too busy watching them to look up at the mighty oak as they drew near, only snapping her attention as she felt the sweet lavender calm of Ehlaria. The Elven queen lounged on a wooden throne, a series of golden swirls painted across her thighs and arms, painted constellations speckled her face.
A face that smiled softly at the sight of Astra—of both of them, she realized.
“Our honored guests!” She rose from her throne, elves flowing quietly around her, ready for anything she might need. She reached her long arms out to them, grabbing each of their hands and dragging them into the fray, a jingling percussion pulsing against Astra’s heartbeat. Behind her, an Elven male ran a worn bow over his fiddle, a female sang a high soprano note to match.
“You need drinks,” Ehlaria purred, two goblets popping out of thin air as she handed them over. “Cheers, my loves, I’m so glad you finally made it,” she sang, clinking their hands together as she fell back onto her throne. “Please! Make yourselves at home. Dance!”
Astra sipped her wine, turning to the dancers in the middle, their feet moving quickly as they spun each other around, so unstructured and free. Her heart was still gripped with anger—what else was whispered about in clandestine meetings on her behalf?
Luxuros drained his goblet and set it on the ground. He extended his hand to her, but she wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture.
She held his gaze as she tossed back another gulp of wine, setting her cup beside his.
“Don’t you hate dancing?”
“I do,” he said, glancing at the crowd as it turned about itself. “But you don’t.”
Astra imitated his best scowl. “Doing something I like will not make me forget you’re plotting behind my back.”
