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With a tap against her sternum, he let the charm go. “Are you just going to stand here watching all day?” he asked, eyes twinkling again. Maybe the shadow had been only her imagination.
“No,” she said, unable to return more than a tired turn of her own lips. “I was about to go inside. There’s a new trade contract with TX-7 I need to review.”
“A trade contract? It can’t wait until tomorrow?” He cupped her face in his hands. “You work too hard.”
“A queen does not keep office hours, Evret. It is always a responsibility.”
His expression turned scolding. “Even a queen has to relax sometime. Come on. Come play. It won’t hurt you, and no one would dare to criticize if they saw.”
He said it like a joke, but Levana thought for sure there was tension underlying it. “What does that mean?” she said, pulling away.
His hands fell to his sides.
“You think that people are afraid of me?” she pressed. “So oppressed that they wouldn’t dare say something out of favor? Is that it?”
His jaw worked for a moment, baffled, before he set it in frustration. “People have always been afraid to speak out against the royal family—that’s politics. It isn’t something you alone can lay claim to.”
Huffing, Levana turned on her heel and started marching back toward the palace.
With a groan, Evret chased after her. “Stop it. Levana. You’re overreacting. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You must think I’m an awful ruler. One of those spoiled, selfish queens who cares more for her own reputation than the welfare of her people.”
“That’s not what I think. I know you care what the people think about you, but I also know you care about them. In your own way.”
“And what way is that?” she snapped, ducking into the palace’s overhang.
“Levana, would you stop?”
His hand encircled her wrist, but she yanked it away. “Don’t touch me!”
Immediately, the guards who were always in her periphery stepped forward, weapons at the ready.
Evret halted, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. But his expression was furious—and Levana knew that his honor was the reputation he cared to protect, that he would not be happy if anyone dared start a rumor that he had threatened the queen, his wife, when she was the one who was being absurd.
Overreacting.
“Fine,” he said, taking a step back, before turning away entirely. “Go read your contract, Your Majesty.”
Levana watched his retreating back, her hands clenched into shaking fists, before she marched toward the main stairs. It felt like ru
When she reached her private solar, where she conducted most of her business, she sat down to review the trade contract, but immediately started to cry instead. She hadn’t known the tears were coming until it was too late to stop them.
She cried for the girl who had never belonged. A girl who tried so hard, harder than anyone else, and still never had anything to show for it. A girl who had been certain that Evret loved her and only her, and now she couldn’t even remember what that certainty felt like.
Despite every one of her weapons, the heart of Evret Hayle remained unconquered.
She wasn’t even trying to get pregnant anymore, though she knew that couldn’t last. It was only that for so long her visits to Evret’s bedchambers had felt more exhaustive than passionate. More hopeless than anything.
She cried because she could feel the gossip rustling through the court, her barre
She cried because there would be bloodshed and uprisings should she fail. In the end, someone would place the crown on an undeserving head and a new royal bloodline would begin. Levana hadn’t the faintest idea who would fall and who would rise to take her place.
She refused to give weight to those fears.
The throne needed an heir and she would be the one to produce it. The stars would smile on her eventually. They had to, for Luna’s sake.
But fate would be on her side only if she could prove that she was the only ruler this country needed.
Luna was thriving. The city of Artemisia was more a paradise now than it had ever been. All of the outer sectors were producing goods at rates never before seen, and whenever there were rumors of unrest, Levana had only to complete a tour through the domes to visit her people and remind them that they were happy. That they loved her, and they would work for her without complaint. Being among her people was as close to a family as she’d yet to find.
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?”