Dubrovsky? Levana squinted down into the flurry of dancers. It took a while, but finally she spotted the constable dancing with a young gentleman whose name escaped her. One of the family heirs, she was sure.
“Perhaps the difficulty is in his personal preferences.”
Channary flicked her fingers. “I’ve come to learn that he isn’t particular. Except, evidently, he is not interested in his queen. I can’t understand it. I’ve been throwing hints at him since last sunset.”
Glancing down, Levana saw that the servant’s arm was beginning to shake. The drinks in his cordial glasses were vibrating. She selected a beverage that looked like melted chocolate. “You may go.”
Channary snatched up a daffodil-yellow liqueur before the servant could escape, holding both drinks in her hand as she leaned over the balcony rail. She trained her focus on the constable again. Not in a swoony or dreamy way, but as if she were analyzing a war strategy.
“If you want him so much,” said Levana, “why don’t you just brainwash him into wanting you? It would be much simpler.”
“You say that as if you have experience in such matters.”
Gut tightening, Levana couldn’t keep her attention from darting to Evret again. Stoic, statuesque Evret. Did his eyes ever follow her around a room like hers followed him? Did he ever sneak glimpses of her when she wasn’t looking? If so, she had yet to catch him in it, not once since their first kiss in her chambers.
“Manipulating your prey is an easy way to cheat at the game,” said Channary. She dipped her tongue into the blue glass, coating it with silvery powder, and swallowed. Her expression became surprisingly pleased. “But I don’t want to win that way. I will win when I go into Lunar history as the most desirable queen to ever walk these hallways.”
“The most undiscerning queen, anyway. Don’t you ever want to just … fall in love?”
“Love. What a child you are.” With no apparent premeditation, Channary downed both of her drinks in two successive gulps. She balked at the combined taste, then started to laugh. “Love!” she screamed out into the dance floor, so loud that a few of the musicians startled and the music blustered momentarily before picking up again. “Love is a conquest! Love is a war!” A few people down below had stopped dancing to gawk at their mad queen. Levana shrank away from her. “Here is what I think of love!”
Channary threw her empty glasses down into the throngs, as hard as she could. One of them shattered on the polished floor. The other hit Constable Dubrovsky’s partner in the eye. He yelped and held up his hands, too late.
A spiteful giggle rose up inside Channary and was just as quickly smothered by a dainty hand pressed over her mouth. “Oops!” she chirped, then laughed in earnest and pushed herself away from the railing. Aghast, Levana trailed after her. They ignored the guests who dropped into bows and curtsies as they passed. The queen looked positively fanatical with her laughter.
“And you think that’s going to endear your constable to you?” said Levana, abandoning her own untouched drink on a sideboard. “Assaulting his dance partners?”
“It can’t be any more absurd than your tactic.” Channary rounded on her, bringing them to a sudden stop on the winding ramp that swirled around the ballroom, connecting the main floor to the first balcony. “Do you really think that by changing your glamour to look like his dead wife and manipulating him a couple of times a day, you’re going to make him fall in love with you?”
Levana bristled. “I don’t need to do anything. He’s already in love with me. And I love him. But I suppose you wouldn’t understand.”
Smirking, Channary ducked her head closer and lowered her voice. “If you truly believe that he loves you, then why manipulate him at all? Why not let him keep his own emotions, unmolested? In fact, why not show him what you truly look like?” She snorted. “Or are you too afraid he’ll run screaming from the room if you do that?”
Rage burst inside Levana’s head. She was suddenly trembling—and even her glamour was showing the anger. It had been a long time since she’d lost such control.
Breathing slowly, she forced herself to relax. Her sister insulted others so that she could lift herself up in comparison. She was to be pitied, if anything.
“He is still in mourning,” Levana said, pacing her words. “Because I love him, I am trying to make this transition as easy on him as possible.”
Eyes twinkling, Channary listed her head to one side. “Oh, yes. We can all see how easy you’re making this transition for him.”
Levana lifted her chin. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going to marry him. When he’s ready, I’m going to marry him.”
Channary raised a hand and patted Levana on the cheek. Though it was a gentle touch, Levana still recoiled from the gesture. “Then you are an even bigger idiot than I realized, baby sister.” Dropping her hand, she strategically lowered the straps of her dress and strolled past Levana toward the dance floor.
Levana shut her eyes, trying to drown out the music that crashed and rolled against her, the mocking laughter of the guests, her sister’s taunting words. Channary didn’t understand. Levana wasn’t only trying to replace Evret’s dead wife, she was going to show him that she was the better choice to begin with. She would be more loving, more dedicated, more enigmatic. She would make him forget that he had ever had another lover at all.
But her stomach was still in chains when she opened her eyes and glanced toward the dance floor. At all the beautiful girls and beautiful boys in their beautiful clothes and their beautiful glamours. Perhaps it was not enough to take on the glamour of Evret’s wife. Not if she was going to be better than her in every way.
She slinked backward, drawing away from the twirling, writhing crowd, until her back collided with a wall. A tapestry swayed against her shoulder. A glowing orb over her head gave a faint halo to the few couples that were loitering on the ramp.
She thought of Solstice, the woman he had loved so very much.
Levana decided that her hair would be just a bit glossier, and added a hint of red on a whim—for contrast, for allure. Her eyes would be larger, with more depth of color. Her lashes thicker and her complexion shimmering and flawless. Her bust would be a little fuller and her waist a little trimmer and her lips would be a little … no, not a little. Her lips would be strikingly, vividly red.
When Evret looked at her, he would see perfection.
When any man looked at her, he would see perfection.
Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she truly was hideous. But so long as she could deceive everyone, what did it matter? She would make even that constable want her if she chose to.
She waited until the glamour had fully pieced together. These visions were what she was good at. The ability to make her glamour so real that she had no use of her true skin anymore.
Confident once more, she glided down to the base of the ramp. A few heads swiveled toward her as she floated among the dancers. She did not head straight for Evret, but rather curtsied and smiled at the nobles who sent her curious glances, making a slow but steady trail through the ballroom.
Even so, she was almost close enough to touch him before his absent gaze locked on to hers. For a moment he seemed to peer right through her. Then there was bewilderment, as his dark eyes scooped down her body before latching on to her face again.
Then, a strange mixture. Desire, she was sure of it—but also, perhaps, fear?
She did not know what to make of that.
“Sir Hayle,” she said, and in that moment, she made the lightning choice to even improve upon her voice. Like a lullaby, she thought. I will speak like whimsical birdsong. “I would like to take a stroll by the lake. Will you accompany me?”
He wrestled with the request for all of two heartbeats, before dropping his head in a silent nod.
His station commanded that he follow at a respectful distance behind her as they traversed through the palace corridors and emerged onto the stone portico that divided the palace f
rom the gardens and lakeshore. Artemisia Lake glinted in the darkness, reflecting the lights of the palace back up to the sky, along with an entire ocean’s worth of stars. Levana had often imagined that she could dive into the water and find herself floating in space.
“When I was a child, I believed there would come a time when I would enjoy these parties,” she said, trusting that Evret was listening although he walked some paces behind her. “But now I can see that they will never grow any less tiresome. Political dalliances, all under the guise of innocent amusement.”
She smiled to herself, pleased with how wise and mature her words sounded. She felt more self-assured with her improved glamour than she had in months. Maybe her whole life.
“I would much rather be out here, enjoying such a pristine evening.” She turned back. Evret lingered a dozen paces away, his face cast in shadow. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Princess.” The word sent a shiver down her spine, for it was full of everything she’d seen in his eyes in the ballroom. Bewilderment and desire and fear.
“Why do you stand so far away, Sir Hayle?”
“I can protect you well enough from here, Your Highness.”
“Can you? And what if an assassin were to fire a shot into my heart from one of those windows? Would you manage to get to me in time?”
“It is not an assassin I fear you need protection from.”
She reached for the chain around her neck. “Then what do I need protection from?” She took a hesitant step toward him.
“Yourself,” he said firmly. Then he stepped back and said, with much less conviction, “Or me, if you come any closer.”
She paused. There was something different about him tonight, a strange reaction to her glamour. She wasn’t sure if this was what she’d hoped for or not. Since the day he’d come to her chambers they had shared a hundred stolen moments. A brush of skin outside the dining hall. A possessive hand on her waist as she disappeared into her bedchambers for the night. A hasty, desperate kiss in the servants’ halls before the changing of the guard.
But Levana was not so naïve as to pretend that every moment hadn’t required mental pressure from her. Reshaping his thoughts to match her own, forcing her own desire upon him, reminding him again and again that he loved her. He loved her.
And six times—six times—he had broken the guard’s code of conduct, the rule that he was not to speak unless one of his superiors bid him, to tell her that this had to stop. He had told her that he was confused and heartbroken and he couldn’t imagine what had come over him and he hadn’t meant to take advantage of her and he didn’t blame her at all but they had to stop, they had to stop … until he was kissing her again.
So far, tonight, Levana had not had to manipulate his emotions. So far, it was only her glamour that had cajoled him.
“What do you mean, I need protection from you?”
“Your Highness.” The fear faded away. Now he looked only tired. “Why are you torturing me like this?”
She drew back. “Torturing you?”
“Every time I’m away from you—when I’m off duty, taking care of my baby girl, my thoughts are solid. I know myself. I know my heart. I know that my wife is dead, but she gave me a beautiful gift before she left, and I’m thankful for that.” He gulped. “I know that I am loyal to the crown, and I will serve faithfully as long as I can. And I know that I care for you, as … as a guard must care for his princess. And as a friend, I suppose.”
“You are my—”
“But when you’re near,” he continued, and the interruption shocked Levana more than anything else that night. A guard never interrupted a member of the aristocracy, and certainly never a member of the royal family. “… my thoughts get all messed up again. You look like Solstice, and I get confused. My heart pounds so fast around you, but not in a happy way or a loving way. It’s as though my body belongs to someone else and I can’t keep my hands off you, even though I know how wrong it is. Stars above, I could be executed for this!”
“No! No, I would never let that happen to you.”
“But you’re the one doing this to me.”
She froze.
“Aren’t you?” he whispered. “This is all a manipulation. A trick played on the poor, weak-minded guard.”
Levana shook her head and scrambled closer to him, pulling his hands into hers. “I don’t think of you like that at all.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you! And you love me, but you’re too honorable to—”
“I don’t love you!” he screamed, and the words struck her like a thousand shards of ice. “Or at least … I don’t think I do. But you’ve got my mind so turned around I can hardly tell what’s real anymore.”
She attempted a gentle smile. “Don’t you see? That’s what love is supposed to feel like. All these conflicting emotions and bouts of passion that you can hardly control, and this constant twisting feeling in your stomach like you can’t decide if you want to run away from that person … or if you want to run away with them.”
His face was tense, like he was trying to hash out his words before he yelled again.
“You’re wrong, Princess. I don’t know what you’re describing, but it isn’t love.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. “When you said that I needed protection from you, I didn’t think that you intended to break my heart. When I have given … when I would do anything for you, Evret.”
Pulling away from her, he curled his fingers into his thick coils of hair. “That isn’t my intention, Princess. I don’t think you understand what you’re doing, how wrong it is. But this can’t continue. In the end, you’ll grow tired of this charade, and I will be punished for taking advantage of you. Don’t you see that?”
“I told you, I won’t let that happen.”
He dropped his hands. “And you think the queen will listen to you?”
“She’ll have to. She herself has had countless affairs with royal guards.”
“She is not sixteen years old!”
Levana wrapped her arms around herself like a shield. “You think I’m just a naïve child.”
“Yes. Naïve and confused and lonely.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “And what about beautiful?”
He flinched and looked away.
“You also find me beautiful, don’t you? Irresistible, even?”
“Princess—”
“Answer me.”
“I can’t.”
“Because I’m right.”
He said nothing.
Levana swallowed. “Marry me, Evret.”
His eyes snapped back toward her, horrified, but she plowed on. “Marry me and you will be a prince. She cannot touch you.”
“No. No. Solstice … and my darling Winter…”
Her heart stuttered, and she was surprised at how quickly her jealousy returned, how much it hurt. “Winter? Who’s Winter?”
He laughed without humor, pulling both hands down his face. “She’s my daughter. You believe that you love me and yet you haven’t even asked what I named my one-month-old child? Don’t you see how insane that is?”
She gulped. Winter. Solstice. Though they did not have seasons on Luna, she knew enough of the Earthen calendar to be familiar with how the words fit together. She remembered, too, the little baby blanket, embroidered with a snowy scene.
He meant to never forget his wife. Not for as long as he lived.
“Winter,” she said, wetting her lips. “Your daughter will be a princess, with all the riches and privileges afforded to a girl of her station. Don’t you want that for her?”
“I want her to be surrounded by love and respect. Not … not whatever games the people in that ballroom come up with to entertain themselves. Not whatever it is you’re trying to do to me.”
Clenching her fists, Levana strode forward so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Winter will have a mother, and you will have a wife. And I will lov
e you both better than she ever could have.”
Shaking with fury and determination, Levana marched around him, back toward the palace. It took him a long time, but upon realizing that the princess could not be left unprotected, he followed.
* * *
The resistance started to leave Evret after that, and Levana hoped he was beginning to forget his wife. Or—not forget her—but forget that she was a different woman altogether. His eyes frequently took on a hollow stare when he was in her presence, and when other members of the court were nearby, he was as unreadable as some extinct first-era alphabet. He gave away nothing. He could have been a stranger.
Which she knew was wise of him. He’d been right before. If her sister wanted to accuse him of taking advantage of the princess, it would be in her right to do so. Levana wasn’t worried about it, though. Channary had her own romantic conquests to worry about and, besides, she had been making eyes at older men since she was even younger than Levana was now.
No, she was not worried.
Especially in those moments when they were finally alone. Those borrowed spaces of time when he was hers, entirely hers. She began to loosen her mental grip of him, little by little, and to her relief and her joy, his response to her only became braver. His hands more possessive. His caresses more daring.
The first night they spent together, he whispered a single word into her hair.
“Sol…”
Simultaneously filled with pain and pleasure, joy and rage, Levana had grit her teeth and held him closer.
When the dome brightened over the white city the following morning, Levana let him sleep until the servant entered to bring her breakfast. Mortified and distraught, Evret lay in bed, frozen, while Levana ordered the servant to cut and butter her rolls. Slice her fruit. Prepare the tea that she had no intention of drinking.
When the servant had gone, Evret scrambled from the sheets. She saw the moment when he took in the spots of blood on the white cotton. How quickly he turned away. How hastily he pulled on his clothes, muttering curses beneath his breath.