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“No reason, darling. Why don’t you go play with your dolls?” Nudging Winter toward the playroom, Evret poured himself a drink from a small tray on the side table. “You do realize that you have been my wife now for more than three years,” he said, watching the amber liquid splash over the ice cubes. “I have not fought you. I have not left. But I’m begi
Levana’s diaphragm quivered unexpectedly, warning her that she might cry, telling her that his words hurt more than she admitted on the surface.
“You think our marriage is a lie?”
“As you just said—even I have never seen what you really look like.”
“And that’s what’s important to you? That I be beautiful, like she was.”
“Stars above, Levana.” He pressed the glass onto the table without taking a drink. “You’re the one who impersonates her. You’re the one who hides. I’ve never wanted that. What exactly are you afraid of?”
“That you would never look at me again! Trust me, Evret. You would never see me the same way.”
“You think I’m that shallow? That I care at all what you look like under your glamour?”
She turned away. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I think I do. I know—there are scars, burns of some sort. I’ve heard the rumors.”
Levana grimaced.
“And I know your sister said you were ugly from the time you were a baby, and I can only imagine the kind of damage that does to a person. But … Levana…” Sighing, Evret came up behind her, settling his warm hands on her shoulders. “I had a wife once that I could talk to about anything. That I trusted implicitly. I think, if you and I are going to make this work, we need to at least try to have that too. But that will never happen if you’re always going to hide from me.”
“That will never happen,” Levana hissed, “if you constantly insist on comparing me with her.”
He turned her around to face him. “You compare yourself with her.” He cupped her face. “Let me see you. Let me judge for myself what I can or can’t handle.” He gestured to the window. “Let the people judge for themselves.”
Levana gulped, afraid to realize that she was considering it.
Was it true, that he could never know her, trust her, love her, so long as she hid behind this glamour of beauty and perfection?
“No, I can’t do it,” she whispered, pulling herself out of his grip. His face fell, and a moment later his hands did too. “Maybe you’re right about the people. No—you are right. I’ll plan a tour through the outer sectors. I’ll let them see me.”
“Your glamour, you mean.”
She grated her teeth. “Me. This is all that matters, so please, don’t ask me again.”
Shaking his head, he returned for his drink.
“Trust me,” Levana said emphatically, even as her vision blurred. “It’s better this way. I’m better this way.”
“That’s the problem,” he said, unable to look at her as he took a sip. “I don’t trust you. I don’t even know how to start.”
* * *
The idea came to her slowly. At first, it was merely a horrible, guilty fantasy. That there was no Selene. That Cha
Then one day, as she was watching Winter and Selene playing with blocks on the floor of their nursery, babbling in a language only they understood, Levana had a fantasy of Selene dying.
Putting one of those blocks in her mouth and choking on it.
Slipping in the bathtub, and her na
Tripping on her own uncertain feet and tumbling down the hard palace steps.
The daydreams disgusted her at first—all over an i
Over time, the fantasies became more violent.
In a frustrated fit, her na
Or, rather than tripping over her own feet, some jealous child from the aristocracy would push her down the stairs.
Or a disillusioned shell would sneak into the palace and stab her sixteen times in the chest.
Even as Levana became afraid to think that these were her own thoughts, she could hear herself justifying them.
She was a great queen. Luna was better off with her, not some ignorant child who would be a spoiled, self-absorbed brat by the time she took her throne.
The transition when Selene turned thirteen would be difficult and confusing for the people. It could take years for them to get on track again.
Cha
No one would love this country like Levana did. No one.
She deserved to be the queen.
Because she had never truly hated the child, she believed she was being practical in her rationalization. Her thoughts didn’t come from envy or resentment. This was about the good of Luna. The betterment of everyone around her.
Months ticked by, and she found herself inspecting the few moments she spent with her niece for weaknesses. Wondering how she would do it, if the opportunity came. Wondering if she could get away with it.
Levana didn’t realize she was making a plan until the plan was already half formed.
It was the right thing to do. The only choice a concerned queen could make.
It was a sacrifice and a burden that she couldn’t hand to anyone else.
She chose a day, almost without realizing she had chosen it.
The opportunity presented itself so clearly. Her imagination sparked. It was as though some unseen ghost was whispering the suggestion into her ear, coaxing her to take advantage of this chance that might not come again.
Winter had an appointment with Dr. Eliot that day. Levana would ensure that she was the one who would get Winter from the nursery. She would send Evret on some other task. The na
Would what?
This was the part that Levana could not figure out.
How did you kill a child?
There were so many possibilities, but every one of them made her feel like a monster for even considering it. At first she tried to think how best to make sure the child didn’t suffer. She didn’t want to cause her pain; she only wanted her dead. Something that would be over quickly.
Then, on Selene’s third birthday, they decided to host a party. Something intimate. It had been Evret’s idea, and Levana was so delighted to see him wanting to plan something, as a family, that she didn’t argue. It was only the two of them, and little Winter, of course, and the Clay family, as always. All gathered together in the palace nursery, drinking wine and laughing like normal people, like there was nothing strange about this mingling of royalty and guards. The children played, and Garrison’s wife gave Selene a stuffed doll that she’d made, and the palace pastry chef brought up a little cake shaped like a crown. In each of the cake’s tines was a tiny silver candle.
Evret tried to show Selene how to blow out the candles, while wax dripped into the frosting. Winter, too, wanted to take part in the celebration, and baby spittle was left all over the pretty cake before young Jacin Clay got a
She would do to the child what Cha