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Levana had managed to eat three-quarters of a pastry and five small berries when her bedroom door opened again. She was immediately angry at the intrusion—the servant was early. Only on the heels of her a
But it was her sister, not one of the faceless servants, who swept into her bedroom. “Cha
“Then perhaps you should lock your door,” said Cha
She said it with a smile, wholly unconcerned. And why shouldn’t she be? The murderer had been promptly executed when the guards found him, bloodied knife still in hand.
Not that Levana didn’t think there could be more shells out there, angry enough and crazy enough to attempt another attack. Cha
Which was part of the problem. Cha
She was a beautiful fool, though, which was the worst kind. Her sister had lovely ta
Cha
Altogether, the look made Levana want to gag.
“What do you want?” asked Levana, swinging her legs out from beneath the blankets.
“To see that you won’t be embarrassing me by your appearance today.” Reaching forward, Cha
Cha
“Less fraudulent than claiming you’re going to miss them,” said Levana, glaring at the painted heart.
“Fraudulent? To the contrary. I shall miss them a great deal. Especially the parties that Father used to throw during the full Earth. And being able to borrow Mother’s dresses when I was going shopping in AR-4.” She hesitated. “Though I suppose now I can simply take her seamstress as my own, so perhaps that is no great loss after all.” With a giggle, she sat down on the edge of the bed and snatched a berry from the breakfast tray, popping it onto her tongue. “You should be prepared to say a few words at the funeral today.”
“Me?” It was an appalling idea. Everyone would be watching her, judging just how sad she was. She didn’t think she could fake it well enough.
“You’re their daughter too. And—” Suddenly, inexplicably choked up, Cha
Levana scowled. “You’re going to leave me alone to guide the entire kingdom in mourning, so that you can frolic with one of the guards?”
“Oh, stop it,” said Cha
“You’re going to be queen, Cha
Laughing, Cha
“Our parents are dead. Killed by a citizen who must not have thought they were doing a very good job.”
Cha
Crawling from the bed, Levana pulled on a robe that had been laid out on the sitting chair. “You know very well why there aren’t any mirrors.”
To which Cha
Then, quick as a viper, Cha
“Ah, there’s my ugly duckling,” Cha
Turning away, Levana blinked back the tears that had sprung up and scrambled to reinstate her illusion. To hide her disfigurements. To pretend that she was beautiful too.
Spotting movement in the corner of her eye, she saw a maid frozen in the doorway. Cha
Smartly, the servant lowered her gaze and curtsied.
Releasing Levana’s chin, Cha
* * *
The great hall was filled with grays. Gray hair, gray makeup, gray gloves, gray gowns, gray stockings. Charcoal jackets and heather sleeves, snowdrop shoes and stormy top hats. Despite the drab color palette, though, the funeral guests looked anything but mournful. For in those grays were gowns made of floating ribbons and sculpted jewelry and frosted flowers that grew like tiny gardens from bountiful poufed hair.
Levana could imagine that the Artemisian seamstresses had been kept very, very busy since the assassination.
Her own dress was adequate. A floor-length gown made of gray-on-gray damask velvet and a high lace neckline that, she guessed, looked lovely with the cropped black hair of her glamour. It was nothing as showy as Cha
On a dais at the front of the room, a holograph was showing the deceased king and queen as they had once looked in their summery youth. Her mother in her wedding gown—barely older then than Levana was now. Her father seated upon his throne, broad shouldered and square jawed. They were artist-rendered portraits, of course—recordings of the royal family were strictly prohibited—but the artist had captured their glamours almost perfectly. Her father’s steely gaze, the graceful way her mother fluttered her fingers when she waved.