Eclipse Queen

Kemi C. Amusan

Charminine.com

Chapter Three: The Starlight Times

Moon woke to an empty bed and the particular quiet that meant Sun had already gone.

She knew before she reached for him. The sheets on his side had cooled past the point of recent departure. No lingering warmth, no impression of a body that had only just risen. He’d left hours ago, while the last of their night was still settling into her skin, while she was still dreaming the dream where he stayed.

She lay there a moment longer than she needed to, staring at the place where he should have been, and made herself breathe through the small, stupid grief of it. She’d known. Some petty, hopeful part of her had known and hoped anyway.

He has a whole world to warm, she told herself.

It didn’t help.

She rose, gathered herself into some semblance of composure, and was still tying the last of her light around her shoulders when Mercury arrived without knocking, already talking before he was fully through the door.

“You’ll want to see this,” he said, and dropped The Starlight Times onto the table between them with the particular relish of someone who enjoyed being the one who knew things first.

Moon looked down. The headline took up half the front page, black and enormous:

MARS CONQUERS VENUS SISTERS

Beneath it, an illustration rendered with more enthusiasm than taste: Mars mid-swagger, the Venus sisters arranged around him in various states of conquered admiration, their usual sharpness softened into something the artist clearly considered flattering and Moon considered insulting on their behalf.

“Conquers,” Moon repeated. “That’s certainly a word for it.”

“It’s the word that sells copies.” Mercury perched himself on the edge of the table, entirely too pleased with the whole affair. “You should read the pull quote. One of them called him ‘inevitable.’ Inevitable. I nearly wept.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I might,” he said, “have written it.”

Before she could respond to that, and she had several responses queued, the air in the room changed: a kind of pressure, a heat that had nothing to do with warmth. Mars arrived as though the room had been waiting for him.

“Moon.” He said her name like he was already halfway through a thought about her. “You’ve heard, then.”

“I’ve read the headline. I haven’t confirmed the reporting.”

Something in him brightened at that.

“You know,” he said, low, “you’re the only one in this whole sky who hasn’t fallen at my feet.”

“I noticed.”

“Doesn’t that interest you? Being the exception?”

She wanted, badly, to have an answer for this. But his energy wasn’t Sun’s warmth; it was a heat that asked instead of gave.

“Mars…”

“I could conquer you too.” He said it almost gently, which was somehow worse. “If you’d let me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Everyone says that.” He smiled. “Right up until they do.”

She noticed Mercury had deserted them and was now back, dragging Jupiter in with him.

Mercury could be strangely perceptive, and this was one of those times. He was seeking help for the Moon.

“Mars.” Jupiter’s voice carried the particular warmth of someone who liked you and was about to inconvenience you anyway. “Lilith’s looking for you.”

Mars’s whole body shifted. “Is she.”

“Very insistent about it. Something about last week’s headline.” Jupiter’s eyes glimmered. “She used the word inevitable too, actually. Though I don’t think she meant it as a compliment. She said you are clueless around strong women.”

That was all it took. Mars’s attention, so total a moment before, redirected entirely. The promise of a fight apparently more compelling than the promise of Moon’s resistance, and he was gone, already moving, already somewhere else in his head.

Moon exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Jupiter settled into the chair across from her with the unhurried ease of a being who had never once worried about being late to anything. “I’ve bought you an hour, maybe two, before he remembers you exist again. Lilith and Mars will make a spectacle of themselves in the meantime, should be quite the show. Mercury, you’ll want to be there for that.”

“Obviously,” Mercury said, already halfway to the door, already composing headlines in his head. He paused only long enough to grin back at Moon. “Try to look less like you’re about to cry, dear. It ruins the mystique.”

Then he was gone too, and it was only Jupiter, and the quiet he left behind him, and the newspaper still lying open between them to that ridiculous headline.

Jupiter watched her for a long moment.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he said finally.

“Sun left before I woke.”

“No, I think it has more to do with Uranus being on your case last night,” Jupiter said.

“Is this where you remind me it is for a larger purpose again?” Moon asked.

“Well,” Jupiter said. “You have to grow up at some point and face your destiny.”

“Destiny,” Moon spat. “Please. Have you seen me?”

“You were built for purpose, darling. Both your round and svelte moments. And you do have your moments when you are svelte in the night sky,” Jupiter said.

“I will be svelte in every night sky if your friend Uranus doesn’t keep rattling me and making me hold onto water,” Moon replied. “I can’t wait till I can give him a damn piece of my mind.”

“Let’s go do that then,” Jupiter said.

“Oh… no… no…” Moon stuttered.

“It’s your…”

“Destiny, I know,” Moon finished. “But the thought of it leaves me hella frazzled.”