in sunshine and in shadow
He searches her as she does him, with careful glances through dark lashes, subtly taking the measure of her as the light changes overhead and the sea rushes against the stone.
They are the two sides of twilight: she the sun burning its last moments on the sea, touching every cloud with fire, a brilliant sunset. Asterion is the moments after the sun has vanished; the slight silver of the first stars, the rich red gone to soft purple, a last sigh of blue.
Above them the world turns from one to the other. The bay stands steady beneath the deepening sky, but something in him eases at her second nod.
“I suppose you should,” he says, and a smile appears on his dark mouth, faint as those first stars. The bay steps forward, smoothly as a ripple on a lake, and dips his head at the gift of her name. Moira Tonnerre - it may sound like nothing much to her, but to Asterion it’s weighty with adventure, like a name he might find in one of the books back in Terrastella’s library. “A pleasure, Moira Tonnerre,” he says, unable to resist trying the fullness of her name out on his tongue; the syllables roll like bells. “I am Asterion, of the dusk court.” He says nothing of his own title; it doesn’t occur to him that it might be of interest. Regent is a word he wears uncomfortably, like an outsize coat.
It is much easier to only be a stranger, only a wandering boy. So he pretends he is, and glances sidelong at her bright amber eyes, and lets his smile grow more true as a breeze off the sea tugs at their hair. “What brings you to the cliffs tonight? The last time I was here, we threw wishes into the sea.” As if he might see them, he leans toward the edge, but only gulls dance above the waves. He wonders if any of those wishes came true.
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