Chapter Fourteen

Plink, ping-ping.

“A silver note?” Luna guessed, the blindfold rustling against her ears as she tilted her head.

“Good,” Adrianna replied. Three days ago, Luna had walked into their daily training session and declared that she wanted to practice auditory production. Her mentor hadn’t even blinked. “And this?”

The same sound, but pitched much lower, which meant . . .

“A gold note,” said Luna, pushing off her blindfold. “Since it’s heavier.”

Adrianna began gathering a handful of coins off the table. Copper and bronze pieces, silver and gold notes. She held up a gold note. “Keep your objectives clear. Replicate the sound.”

Luna squinted at the coin.

Plink, plonk-plonk.

Adrianna grinned. “Close enough. And the copper piece?”

A hollow sort of clanking, Luna reminded herself, and replicated. Before Adrianna could ask, she conjured an illusion of the coin—these days, it was easier than plucking a leaf off a tree. The coin fell from her fingers, catching the light, and clattered onto the table, accompanied by sounds she fabricated herself.

Adrianna sighed. “Not bad, sweetheart, but the timing is off.” When Luna tried again, her aunt clucked. “Don’t forget that you control the actions of your illusions. You might not be able to foresee the movement or bounce or spin of a real coin, but your illusions exist to serve your intentions. So command them.”

Luna let that message sink in. The next coin drop brought a smile to Adrianna’s face.

A knock interrupted them.

“I’ll get it,” said Adrianna, stalking over to the door.

Luna picked up a bronze piece and let it roll off her fingertips. As it plummeted, she concealed it—and its sound—in a veil of illusion, so that when it supposedly hit the table, it may as well have vanished into thin air.

“Ah, Your Royal Majesty.”

Luna spun around to find her father standing in the doorway.

Her breath stuttered when she caught sight of the familiar slipper he grasped in both hands.

“Please, Adrianna, if you would leave us for a moment.” King Jakob gestured outside. “My daughter and I must have a little chat.”

Her aunt’s eyes flicked between the two of them, her expression unreadable. Luna pleaded silently for her father’s fiancée to—well, she didn’t know, exactly, but anything other than desert her and leave her trapped and guilty and alone with her father.

But in the end, Adrianna strode out of the room, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss Jakob’s cheek on her way. She cast Luna a final, cryptic sidelong glance over her shoulder before disappearing from view.

The door clicked shut. Luna averted her gaze, looking anywhere and everywhere but at her father. Desperately, she wondered if she could somehow conjure a talking apparatus of herself or something equally ridiculous and escape—

“Lunarissa,” said King Jakob quietly.

Luna’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”

Gently, he placed the incriminating slipper on the table between them. “On one of my naval expeditions as a young man, I stayed for two fortnights on the island of Qris. There, I found a beautiful flower that bloomed only in shadow.” She stood, frozen, as his fingers brushed her chin and tilted her face up, his azure eyes solemn. “It was called a lunarissa. Or, in the mortal tongue—”

“Moonflower,” Luna breathed, remembering the nickname her foster siblings had once called her, long ago, before she had ended up in Axaria. Before she had met Asterin.

“Yes,” said Jakob. “Priscilla was wrong when she said I didn’t want to have a child. I just didn’t want to have a child with her.” Luna winced despite herself. He waved a hand through the air. “She was the spark to my fuse, and she made me brash and brazen—neither desirable traits for the ruler of a kingdom. Marrying her would have bound us in ways the throne would not allow.”

Luna stared at him. “So . . .”

“All I mean is that . . .” Her father trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to feel unloved.”

Her next exhale shuddered out of her lungs. Unloved. She summoned a smile. “I felt nothing of the sort, Father. But thank you for your sentiments.”

“How much did you overhear?” the king questioned, tipping his chin at the slipper.

Luna wondered if it was worth denying ownership of the damned thing. But Adrianna had gifted them to her personally, so the lie would likely come back to bite her. Instead, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that Lady Killian was a shadow demon? Doesn’t that pose a risk to my safety?”

“She is under my absolute command,” her father assured her. “So you have nothing to worry about.”

Sure, Luna thought to herself, restraining an eye roll. And mice needn’t fear cats so long as they play friends. “I thought only King Eoin could control anygnés.”

Her father gave her a look of interest. “How did you know that?”

“I knew one,” she replied. “We met him in the Aswiyre Forest.”

Jakob stroked his chin. “Ah, yes . . . Harry. Adrianna mentioned him.” He paused. “What about your other friends? Have you kept in contact with them?”

“My friends?” Of course, she’d previously mentioned Asterin to her father, though her name still felt raw passing Luna’s lips. “I-I’d rather not talk about them.” The letters from the Queen of Axaria had arrived by the dozen. She kept all of them in a box on her shelf. Unopened. Waiting. She had only replied to three of Eadric’s letters, and all of a sudden she realized that she had no idea if Orion was even alive or not. Let him be safe, she prayed to the Immortals.

“Luna,” her father said so sternly that her entire body stiffened. “What Queen Asterin did to you was unjust and—”

“Unjust,” Luna spat, the anger bubbling up and boiling over so rapidly that she nearly choked. “She picked some boy she knew for a few months over me.”

“And that is why I let Eadric save you.”

Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Love makes people irrational, Luna. Asterin never meant to hurt you, but she didn’t love you for who you are—only what you were to her.”

Her throat tightened at the sting of his words. I was her best friend, she wanted to say, but then she found the sense in her father’s words. “I was there for her whenever she needed me,” she mumbled. “Always.”

Hesitantly, her father patted her head. “And this . . . boy? Quinlan? What was his relationship with her?”

“They’ll marry someday, I’m sure.” A bitter smile rose to her face. “Who knows? He might even try to propose the very next time he sees her.”

Her father raised an eyebrow at that. “The Prince of Eradore and the Queen of Axaria?”

“And obviously she’ll say yes,” Luna went on, squinting at the floor as her vision blurred slightly. “It’ll be so lovely. Of course it will be. They’re perfect together.”

The king squeezed her shoulder. Through her unshed tears, his face had smeared, twisting into something almost inhuman. “For what it’s worth, I believe that Asterin failed her duty to you as queen—or princess, at the time. As her subject, she should have protected you with all of her ability. Not Prince Quinlan.”

She glowered at him. “You’re making me feel worse.”

“And yet,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “you would have done anything to protect her, without a care for yourself, or even Eadric Covington.”

“Still making it worse.”

He shook his head impatiently. “My point, daughter, is that you would make a much better queen than Asterin could ever be. And someday, you will.” She whipped up to stare at him, shocked at his words and the staggering gravity they brought upon her future. Before she could even begin to scramble for a response, he asked, “What punishment should befall Queen Asterin for such a betrayal? Especially considering that, besides being responsible for her kingdom and its people, including you, she was also your dearest friend. So, tell me, daughter . . . what fate does she deserve?”

Struck speechless, Luna couldn’t help but ponder his question. Of course she was bitter. And hurt. Yet . . . she could not bring herself to respond. But what was stopping her?

At her expression, her father sighed. “Would you like to know the reason I was so enraptured by the lunarissae on the island?”

She nodded slowly.

“There was a volcanic eruption a few decades ago,” he told her. “It annihilated most of the wildlife, but against all odds, the lunarissae survived. They thrived, in fact, just as they always had, even without the light of the sun or the stars.”

Luna glanced up, a small ember of warmth expanding in her chest.

“Your mother chose your name very wisely,” her father said quietly. “I think it suits you perfectly.”

She was the spark to my fuse, and she made me brash and brazen—neither desirable traits for the ruler of a kingdom.

New purpose blossomed within Luna. I’m doing this for Asterin, she promised herself. “Asterin and Quinlan deserve happiness,” she said. Her father remained silent. “But . . .” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. Am I really doing this? “To be willing to sacrifice not just a friend but a subject of her own kingdom is unspeakable. Asterin would never have dreamed of such disloyalty before she met Quinlan,” Luna insisted. “He changed her into someone new. Someone unsuitable for the throne. And I would never want that for her. I . . . I almost think that they would both be better off alone. Without each other.”

At that, King Jakob leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her brow. “I understand. Everything will be taken care of, daughter, have no fear.”

Taken care of. Luna swallowed, mouth acrid, and forced a smile. “Thank you, Father,” she said, without even knowing what exactly she was thanking him for.

Without another word, the king swept out of the room. He left the single slipper behind. A reminder? A threat? Or nothing at all?

Once the door closed behind him, she exhaled shakily, her strength leaving her so abruptly that she had to brace herself against the table to keep from collapsing. Only then did the horror sink in.

Immortals.

What had she done?