Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story (11 page)

She glanced at her fuming sister.

“Tell you what isn’t true?”

“You idiot. Did you
marry
him?”

“Yes. As I told you I would.”

Channary made a furious noise in the back of her throat. “Then you will have it annulled, and quickly, before the whole city finds out.”

“I will not.”

“Then I will have him executed.”

Levana snarled. “No, you
won’t.
Why do you even care? I love him. I chose him. It’s done.”

“So
love
him. Bed him if you like, but we do not marry
guards.
” Channary gestured toward the wall—beyond it, the white city of Artemisia. “Do you know how many of the families I have promised your hand to, and Father before that? There are strategies in place. We need their support. We want them to feel invested in us as rulers, and for that we need to make alliances. That’s how it works, Levana. That is your
only
role as a part of this family, and I will not have you ruining it.”

“It’s too late. I won’t change it, and even if you did kill him, I would never marry to please you. I would rather die.”

“That, too, can be arranged, baby sister.”

The seamstress spooled out some more thread, kneeling by Levana’s ankles. The woman wisely kept her eyes diverted and pretended not to be listening.

“Then you would have nothing to bargain with, so why bother?” Lifting her head, Levana forced a smile. “Besides, I have brought you a replacement princess to be wed off to whoever it pleases you. You’ll just have to wait another sixteen years.”

“Another princess?” Channary guffawed. “You mean that child? The baby of a guard and a seamstress? You think any one of the families will want
her
?”

“Of course. She is my child now, which means she is a princess, as sure as if I gave birth to her myself. By the time she’s old enough, no one will even remember she had another mother, or that Evret had another wife.”

“I suppose that’s been your ingenious plan all along.”

Staring at the wall, Levana said nothing.

“Have you even thought what you’re going to do with the little brat?”

“What do you mean, what I’m going to do with her?”

“You don’t actually intend to …
raise
her, I hope.”

Dragging her gaze away from the wall, Levana peered down her nose toward her sister. “She will be raised as royalty. As we were.”

“With nannies and tutors, ignored by her parents?”

“With everything she could
possibly
want. Every luxury, every toy. Besides.” She lifted her hands to the side as the seamstress reached the seam beneath her underarm. “Evret loves her very much, as do I.”

It was a lie, and she knew it was a lie. But she also felt that someday it could be true. The girl was her daughter now, after all, and she was a part of Evret, so how could Levana not love her?

Mostly, though, she said it just to watch the annoyance slip over her sister’s face.

The seamstress finished the seam and Levana lowered her hands again, letting her fingers trail over the fine embroidery of the bodice. She felt peculiarly happy today, after spending her second night in a row curled against Evret’s body. She was a wife, now. Though her dress did not bare half as much skin as her sister’s, she felt much more the woman. She had what her sister did not have. A family. Someone to love her.

“I hope,” Levana continued, more to herself now, “that little Princess Winter will soon have a brother or sister too.”

Channary wheeled toward her. “You’re already pregnant?”

“Not yet, no. But I don’t see why it would take long.”

She had been thinking about it a great deal, actually, often returning to the glamour of Solstice’s pregnant belly when she was alone, running her fingers over the taut flesh. She had not really considered wanting a child until she had watched Evret holding his baby girl, seen the softness in his gaze. That was something she could give him too. Something that she could share with Solstice … no, Levana’s child would be better than Solstice’s, because hers would have royal blood.

Frowning, Channary crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “That will be one good thing to come out of this, then. When you have a child that is
actually
your own, then we’ll discuss who best to marry them off to.”

“How I do look forward to those conversations, sister.”

“In the meantime,” said Channary, “I am at least doing
my
duty to further our bloodline without tainting it with disgraceful marriages.”

“What does that mean?”

Channary flipped her hair off her shoulder. “Little
Princess
Winter,” she said mockingly, “will soon have a baby cousin.”

Levana’s jaw fell. Shoving the seamstress away, she gathered up her full skirt and stepped down from the pedestal. “You?” She glanced at Channary’s belly, but it was as flat as ever. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll be seeing Dr. Eliot this afternoon.” Glaring, she turned and headed back for the dressing room’s doorway. “I hope it’s a boy. I am so
sick
of stupid princesses.”

“Wait—Channary!” She started to chase after her, a thousand questions in her head, but stopped when her sister wheeled back to face her, face drawn in agitation. “Whose is it? The Constable’s?”

Channary scowled. “
Now
what are you talking about?”

“Constable Dubrovsky. Is he the father?”

Channary’s face turned haughty. Reaching out, she grabbed ahold of the half-stitched panel of Levana’s dress and ripped it down, revealing the scar tissue over Levana’s ribs before she could think to glamour it into invisibility. Gasping, Levana drew away, scrambling to hold the material against her. “I have no idea who the father is,” Channary snapped, turning away again. “Don’t you see, Levana? That’s the
point.
”

*   *   *

She did not become pregnant, though she went to Evret’s bedchambers nearly every night. He and Winter had been moved into the royal family’s private wing of the palace, but only a week went by before Levana decided it would be safer to retire to her own room after her visits to him. She was afraid of what might happen if he awoke before her one morning and saw her without her glamour, and she was tired of using her gift to drag him into a deep unconsciousness every night.

It was not quite the marriage she’d dreamed of, but she told herself it would get better. It would take time.

She did not come to love Princess Winter, who cried every time Levana held her.

Evret refused to let anyone call him a prince, and even vowed to keep his job as a palace guard, though Levana told him over and over that it wasn’t necessary. He was royalty now; he never had to work again. This only seemed to irritate him, though, so eventually Levana stopped pressing the issue. Let him play guns and soldiers if it made him happy.

Channary grew larger and they learned that the child was not a boy. By that time, though, Channary didn’t seem to care. She glowed in a way that Levana knew pregnant women were meant to, yet she hadn’t imagined her sister would be the same way. She would let anyone touch her exposed belly, even the servants. Encouraged it, even. Would yell if a person didn’t coo and aww and tell her what a beautiful mother she would make and how her daughter would surely grow up to be just like her, by all the lucky stars.

As the months passed, Levana came to feel like there must be some conspiracy against her. Rumors were spreading about any number of women in the court who were having babies. The whole city seemed suddenly full of their crying and howling. When Levana went to see Dr. Eliot for a private appointment to ask if there was something else she could be doing, she even learned that a pair of wedded royal scientists were pregnant—Dr. Darnel and his wife, both specialists on the genetic engineering team. The woman was more than three times Levana’s age.

Dr. Eliot was largely unhelpful. She went on and on about how it could take time, and they would look into further treatment when Levana got a bit older, if they still had not had any success. The woman even had the nerve to tell Levana to
relax,
to not worry about it so much. It would happen when it was meant to happen.

Levana was tempted to make the infuriating woman jab a scalpel into her own eye.

Her sister. The old doctor.
Solstice.

There could be nothing wrong with Evret.

So what was wrong with
her
?

Her only consolation was that, as a result of Channary’s condition and her exuberant need to be coddled, the queen neglected her royal responsibilities more and more frequently. Days would pass without her showing up at court and Levana was sent to take her place in countless meetings. Though she needled her sister about it time and again, she didn’t truly mind. She was fascinated by their politics and the inner workings of their system. She wanted to know everything, to claim what power she could scavenge, and her sister’s absence gave her the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Then, on the twenty-first day of December in the 109th year of the third era, Queen Channary gave birth to a baby girl. She was officially named Princess Selene Channary Jannali Blackburn of Luna, but everything past Selene was immediately forgotten by everyone but the history texts. The celebrations throughout the city and even the outer sectors were riotous for a week.

The royal bloodline would continue.

The Lunar throne had an heir.

*   *   *

“I like the silver foliage. Don’t you agree, little sister?”

Levana tore her gaze away from the baby, who was laid out on an embroidered quilt in the center of the room as if this were a common day care and not a royal meeting to discuss the country’s upcoming anniversary celebration. There were a number of designers, florists, decorators, bakers, caterers, and artisans standing against the room’s back wall, each waiting to give their opinions and offer their expertise. It took a moment for Levana to realize her sister was asking about two enormous bouquets, almost identical but for some fuzzy silver leaves tucked into one, as opposed to more vibrant emerald green in the other.

“Silver,” she said. “Yes. It’s very nice.”

“In fact, add more,” said Channary, tapping a finger against her lips. “I want the whole room to sparkle. Is everyone listening?” Her voice rose. “Sparkle. Glitz. I want every surface to shimmer. I want every guest to be bedazzled. I want a reputation of throwing the best galas this city has ever seen. I want them to talk about it for
generations.
Is that understood?”

Nods of understanding were thrown around, but Channary had already stopped paying attention to them as she scanned the offerings before her. Platters of tiny desserts and cocktails with little ice cubes in them, each cube carved into the shape of the queen’s crown.

“No, no, none of this is good enough.” Channary grabbed a tray of hors d’oeuvres and tossed it against the wall. Everyone flinched. “I said I want it to sparkle—is that so hard to grasp? Are you all blind?”

No one pointed out that she had not told them this before. But of course, they should have known before coming to this meeting. Naturally.

Levana shook her head behind her sister’s back.

The baby started crying.

Wheeling around, Channary tossed her arm toward Levana. “Take the child.”

Levana blinked. “Me? Why me? Where’s her nanny?”

“Oh, for star’s sake, she only wants to be held.” Channary started to cough. She turned hastily away, coughing into her elbow, as ladylike as she could. It seemed to Levana that she’d been coughing a lot lately—for weeks, if not months—and though Channary insisted it was only a temporary virus, it seemed to go on and on.

A servant rushed forward with a glass of water, but Channary grabbed it and threw
it
at the wall, too. Glass shattered across the stone as Channary stomped out of the room, still coughing.

The baby’s screams grew more fervent. Levana approached her, hesitant.

Someone clapped. “Let’s adjourn for today,” said one of the event planners, ushering away the artisans. “Come back tomorrow with … your improved work.”

Levana stood over the child for one dread-filled moment, watching at how her face reddened and pinched, at how her chubby arms writhed against the blanket. Her tufts of dark brown hair wisped in every direction.

Though the child was seven months old and hinting every day that she was about to start crawling, Levana could still count the times she’d held her niece on one hand. There was always someone else there to take the baby, and just like with Winter, this child did not seem to be warming up to her at all.

Huffing, she squared her shoulders and crouched down, scooping up the baby as gently as she could. Standing, she nestled the child in the crook of her arm and did her best to coo comforting words at her, but the crying went on and on, little fists thumping the air, beating against Levana’s chest.

With an annoyed sigh, Levana paced back and forth through the room, before stepping out onto the balcony that overlooked Artemisia Lake. She could see members of the court milling about the lush palace gardens, a few of the aristocrats out in boats upon the lake’s surface. In the sky, the Earth was nearly full. Huge and blue and white and stunning amid the starscape.

Once, she had persuaded Evret to go out on a boat with her, but he’d spent the whole time wishing he was back home with Winter, going on and on about how quickly she was growing, and speculating on what her first word might be.

That seemed like a long time ago.

In fact, it had been a long time since they’d done much of anything together.

Bouncing little Selene as gently as she could, Levana examined the face of her future queen. She wondered if this child would grow up to be as spoiled and ignorant as her mother, who cared more about the flower arrangements than political policy.

“I would be a better queen than your mother,” she whispered. “I would be a better queen than you.”

The baby continued to wail, spoiled and stupid.