The stronger Luna’s economy grew, the more Levana wanted.
She cried now because she wanted so very, very much.
She wanted everything for her people.
She wanted Earth.
She needed Earth.
All of it. Every mountain. Every river. Every canyon and glacier and sandy shore. Every city and every farm. Every weak-minded Earthen.
Having control over the blue planet would solve all of her political problems. Luna’s need for resources and land and a larger labor force. She did not want to go down in history as the fairest queen this little moon had ever known. She wanted to be known through history as the fairest queen of the galaxy. As the ruler who united Luna and Earth under one monarchy.
The yearning grew quietly at first, taking the place in her belly where a child should have been. It thrived somewhere so deep inside her she hadn’t even known it existed until one day she looked up at the planet hanging, mocking her, just out of reach, and she almost fell to her knees with the strength of her want.
The more time that passed, the more that desire dug its talons into her.
She deserved Earth.
Luna deserved Earth.
But despite all her plotting, all her long meetings spent discussing soldiers and plagues, she still wasn’t sure how to take it.
* * *
“Why is it always a prince?” asked Winter. “Why isn’t she ever saved by a top-secret spy? Or a soldier? Or a … a poor farm boy, even?”
“I don’t know. That’s just how the story was written.” Evret brushed back a curl of Winter’s hair. “If you don’t like it, we’ll make up a different story tomorrow night. You can have whoever you want rescue the princess.”
“Like a doctor?”
“A doctor? Well—sure. Why not?”
“Jacin said he wants to grow up to be a doctor.”
“Ah. Well, that’s a very good job, one that saves more than just princesses.”
“Maybe the princess can save herself.”
“That sounds like a pretty good story too.”
Levana peered through the barely open door, watching as Evret kissed his daughter’s brow and pulled the blankets to her chin. She had caught the end of the bedtime story. The part where the prince and princess got married and lived happily for the rest of their days.
Part of her wanted to tell Winter that the story was a lie, but a larger part of her knew that she didn’t much care what Winter did or didn’t believe.
“Papa?” Winter asked, stalling Evret just as he moved to stand. “Was my mother a princess?”
Evret listed his head. “Yes, darling. And now she’s a queen.”
“No, I mean, my real mother.”
Levana tensed, and she could see the surprise mirrored in Evret’s posture. He slowly sank back down onto the bed’s covers.
“No,” he said quietly. “She was only a seamstress. You know that. She made your nursery blanket, remember?”
Winter’s lips curved downward as she picked at the edge of her quilt. “I wish I had a picture of her.”
Evret didn’t respond. Levana wished that she could see his face.
When his silence stretched on for too long, Winter glanced up. She appeared more thoughtful than sad. “What did she look like?”
Like me, Levana thought. Tell her. Tell her she looked like me.
But then Evret shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he whispered. It was a sad confession, and it struck Levana between her ribs. She took a step back in the corridor. “Not exactly, at least,” he amended at Winter’s crestfallen expression. “The details have been stolen from me.”
“What do you mean?”
His tone took on renewed buoyancy. “It isn’t important. What I do remember is that she was the most beautiful woman on all of Luna. In the whole entire galaxy.”
“More beautiful than the queen?”
Though she couldn’t see his face, Levana could see the way that Evret flinched. But then he stood and leaned over his daughter, pressing another kiss into her full head of wild curls. “The most beautiful in the entire universe,” he said, “second only to you.”
Winter giggled, and Levana stepped away again, backing up until her back hit a solid wall. She tried to brush away the sting of rejection, the knowledge that she was still not good enough, not when compared with his precious Solstice and his lovely daughter. She pressed the feelings down, down, letting them turn hard and cold inside, while her face was smiling and pleasant.
When Evret emerged a moment later, he looked startled to find her there, but he covered it easily. He was not as good as some of the guards at disguising his emotions, but he had gotten better at it over the years.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” she said, “about this afternoon.”
Shaking his head, Evret shut Winter’s door, then headed down the hall to his own chambers.
Levana followed, wringing her hands. “Evret?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The lights flickered on as he entered the room and started taking off his boots. “Was there something you needed?”
Levana took in the bedroom she’d rarely seen in the light. Evret had never bothered to bring much personality into it. After ten years, the room still felt like a guest suite.
“I wanted to ask you why … why did you agree to marry me?”
He froze, briefly, before kicking the second boot across the room. “What do you mean?”
“In hindsight, I sometimes wonder. It seems that back then I had to coerce you for every kiss. Every moment we spent together you were fighting me. At the time I was so sure it was just you being … a gentleman. Honorable. Loyal to … Solstice’s memory. But now I’m not so sure.”
With a heavy sigh, Evret sank into a cushioned chair. “We don’t have to talk about this now. What’s done is done.”
“But I want to know why. Why did you say yes, if you … if you didn’t love me. And you didn’t want to be royalty. And you didn’t care if Winter was a princess. Why say yes?”
She could see him struggling through a long silence, before he shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you had a choice. If you didn’t love me, you should have said no.”
He laughed humorlessly, leaning his head against the chair’s backrest. “No, I couldn’t have. You made it very clear you weren’t going to let me say no. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you would have just let me walk away.”
Levana opened her mouth to say that, yes, of course, she would have allowed him his freedom, if that’s what he’d truly wanted.
But the words didn’t come.
She remembered that morning still so clearly. Her blood on the sheets. The taste of sour berries. The bittersweet memory of his caresses, knowing that he’d been hers for one night, and yet never hers at all.
No.
No, she would not have let him walk away.
She shuddered, her gaze dropping to the ground.
What a stupid child she’d been.
“At first I’d thought it was a game to you,” Evret continued when it was clear he’d made his point. “Like it was with your sister. Trying to get me to want you like that. I thought you’d grow tired of me, and eventually you’d leave me alone.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “But when you told me to marry you, I realized it was already too late. I didn’t know what you would do if I fought you—really fought you. You’re very good at your manipulations—you were even back then—and I knew I couldn’t resist if you forced me to accept. And I worried that if I kept fighting, you might … you could do something rash.”
“What did you think I was going to do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Levana. Have me arrested? Or executed?”
She laughed, although it wasn’t funny. “Executed for what?”
His jaw tightened. “Think about it. You could have told anyone that I’d forced myself on you, or threatened you, or—anything. You could have said anything,
and it would be my word against yours, and we both know I would lose. I couldn’t risk it. Not with Winter. I couldn’t let you ruin what little I had left.”
Levana stumbled backward as if she’d been struck. “I would never have done that to you.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” He was practically yelling now, and she hated it. He almost never yelled. “You held all the power. You’ve always held all the power. It’s so exhausting to fight you all the time. So I just went along with it. At least being your husband allowed Winter and me some protection. Not much, but…” He clenched his teeth, looking like he regretted telling her so much, and then shook his head. His tone quieted. “I figured that eventually you would tire of me, and I would take Winter far away from here, and it would be over.”
Levana’s heart throbbed. “It’s been almost ten years.”
“I know.”
“And now? Are you still waiting for it to be over?”
His expression softened. The anger was gone, replaced with something infuriatingly kind, though his words were heartbreakingly cruel. “Are you still waiting for me to fall in love with you?”
She braced herself, and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
His brow wrinkled. With sadness. With regret. “I’m sorry, Levana. I’m so sorry.”
“No. Don’t say that. I know that you lo—that you care about me. You’re the only one who’s ever cared about me. Ever since … on my sixteenth birthday, you were the only one to give me a gift, remember?” She fished the pendant from beneath her collar. “I still wear it, all the time. Because of you. Because I love you, and I know…” She gulped, trying in vain to swallow back her mounting sobs. “I know it means you love me too. You always have. Please.”
His eyes were wet too. Filled, not with love, but remorse.
In a broken voice, he said, “It was Sol’s gift.”
Levana froze. “What?”
“The pendant. It was Sol’s idea.”
The words trickled into her ears like a slow-draining faucet. “Sol…? No. Garrison said it was from you. There was a card. It was from you.”
“She’d seen you admiring that quilt in her store,” Evret said. His voice was tender, like speaking to a small child on the verge of a breakdown. “The one of Earth. That’s why she thought you might like the pendant too.”
She clutched the pendant in her fist, but no matter how tight she squeezed, she could feel her hope passing like water through her fingers. “But … Sol? Why? Why would she…?”
“I told her about how I’d seen you impersonating her. That day, before the coronation.”
Levana’s mouth went dry, the mortification she’d felt that day quick to return.
“I think she felt bad for you. She thought you must be lonely, that you needed a friend. So she asked me to look out for you, when I was at the palace.” He gulped. “To be kind.”
He seemed sympathetic, but Levana knew it was just a cover for his true feelings. Pity. He pitied her.
Sol had pitied her.
Sickly, irrelevant Solstice Hayle.
“The pendant was her idea,” Evret said, looking away. “But the card was mine. I did want to be your friend. I did care about you. I still do.”
She released the pendant faster than she would have released a burning ember.
“I don’t understand. I don’t—” She choked on a sob. She felt like she was drowning, and desperation was clawing at her, her lungs trying to breathe, but there was no air left. “Why can’t you even try, Evret? Why can’t you even try to love me?” Crossing the room, she knelt before him, taking his hands into hers. “If you would just let me love you, let me show you that I could be the wife you wanted, that we could—”
“Stop. Please, stop.”
She gulped.
“You’re always so desperate to make this work, to turn our marriage into something it isn’t. Haven’t you ever just stopped to wonder what else might be out there? What you might be missing out on by trying so hard to force this to be real between us?” He squeezed her hands. “I told you a long time ago that by choosing me, you were giving up your chance to find happiness.”
“You’re wrong. I can’t be happy—not without you.”
His shoulders sank. “Levana…”
“I mean it. Think about it. We’ll start over. From the beginning. Pretend that I’m just a princess again, and you’re the new royal guard, coming to protect me. We’ll act like this is our first meeting.” Suddenly giddy with the prospect, Levana leaped back to her feet. “You should start by bowing to me, of course. And introducing yourself.”
He massaged his brow. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can. It can’t hurt to try, not after everything we’ve been through.”
“No, I can’t pretend that we’ve never met, when you’re still…” He flicked his fingers at her.
“Still what?”
“Still looking like her.”
Levana pursed her lips. “But … but this is how I look now. This is me.”
Dragging his hand over his coiled hair, Evret stood. For a moment, Levana thought he was going to play along. That he would bow to her, and they would begin anew. But instead, he shuffled around her and turned down the blankets on the bed. “I’m tired, Levana. Let’s talk about this more tomorrow, all right?”
Tomorrow.
Because they would still be married tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. For all eternity, he would be the husband who had never loved her. Wanted her. Trusted her.
She shuddered, more afraid than she’d been in a long, long time.
After so many years of wrapping herself in the glamour, it was nearly impossible to let it go. Her brain struggled to release her grip on the manipulation.
Heart hammering, she slowly turned around.
Evret was in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head. He tossed it on the bed and looked up.
Gasping, he stumbled back a step, nearly knocking a glowing sconce off the wall.
Levana shrank away, wrapping her arms around her waist. She ducked her head, so that her hair fell over half her face, hiding what it could. But she resisted the urge to cover her scars with her hands. She refused to pull up the glamour again.
The glamour he had always loved.
The glamour he had always hated.
At first, it seemed that he wasn’t even breathing. He just stared at her, speechless and horrified. Finally, he closed his mouth and placed a shaking hand on the bedpost to steady himself. Forced down a gulp.
“This is it,” she said, as new tears started to leak from her good eye. “The truth that I didn’t want you to see. Are you happy now?”
His blinks were intense, and she could imagine how difficult it was for him to hold her gaze. To not look away, when he so clearly wanted to.
“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Not happy.”
“And if you had known this from the beginning, could you ever have loved me?”
His mouth worked for a long time, before he responded, “I don’t know. I…” He shut his eyes, collecting himself, before meeting her full on. This time, he didn’t flinch. “It’s not the way you look, or don’t look, Levana. It’s that you have controlled and manipulated me for ten years.” His expression twisted. “I wish you would have shown me a long time ago. Maybe things would have been different. I don’t know. But now we’ll never find out.”
He turned away. Levana stared at his back, feeling not like a queen at all. She was a stupid child, a pathetic girl, a fragile, destroyed thing.
“I love you,” she whispered. “That much has always been real.”
He tensed, but if he had any response, she left before she could hear it.
* * *
“Come here, baby sister. I want to show you something.” Channary smiled her warmest smile, waving Levana over excitedly.
Instincts told her to be cautious, as Channary’s enthusiasm had turned into cruelty before. But she was
hard to resist, and even as Levana’s instincts were telling her to back away, her legs carried her forward.
Channary knew better than to use her gift on soft-minded children, especially her young sister. She’d been scolded by their nannies a hundred times.
In response, she’d only gotten more secretive about it.
Channary was kneeling before the holographic fireplace of their shared nursery, the gentle warmth in contrast to the roaring flames and crackling logs in the illusion. With the exception of celebratory candles, fire was strictly forbidden on Luna. The smoke would too quickly fill up the domes, poisoning their precious air supply. But holographic fireplaces had been popular for some time now, and Levana always liked to watch how the flames danced and defied predictability, how the wooden logs smoldered and crumbled and sparked. She would watch them for hours, amazed at how the fire seemed to always be burning low, eating into the logs, and yet never went out altogether.
“Watch,” said Channary, once Levana settled beside her. She had set a small bowl of glittering white sand on the carpet, and now she took a pinch of the sand and flicked it at the holographic flames.
Nothing happened.
Gut tightening with apprehension, Levana looked at her sister. Channary’s dark eyes were dancing with the firelight.
“They’re not real, right?” Leaning over, Channary passed her hand through the flames. Her fingers came away unblemished. “Just an illusion. Just like a glamour.”
Levana was still too young to have much control over her own glamour, but she did have a sense that it wasn’t exactly the same thing as this holographic fireplace.
“Go ahead,” said Channary. “Touch it.”
“I don’t want to.”
Channary glared at her. “Don’t be a baby. It isn’t real, Levana.”
“I know, but … I don’t want to.” Some instinct made Levana curl her hands in her lap. She knew it wasn’t real. She knew the holograph wouldn’t hurt. But she also knew that fire was dangerous, and illusions were dangerous, and being tricked into believing things that weren’t real was often the most dangerous thing of all.