Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story (13 page)

“Do we have the manpower to enforce that?” one of the nobles asked.

“Unlikely,” said Haddon. “As a guess, we would need a forty percent increase in sector guards.”

“Well then, hire more guards.”

Looks were traded across the throne room, though no one argued the simplicity of this solution.

“Of course, My Queen. We will see that it is done.”

“Good. You said there was another problem as well?”

“Not an immediate problem, but all of our projection reports show that this amount of production isn’t sustainable in the long term. If we continue at these rates, we’ll drain our resources. The available terra-formed land we have is already working at near-maximum capacity.”

“Resources,” Levana drawled. “You’re telling me that we cannot continue to grow our economy because we are living on a
rock.
”

“It is disheartening, but it is the truth. The only way to continue with this output is if we reopen trade agreements with Earth.”

“Earth will not trade with us. Don’t you understand that this is the entire point of developing the disease and antidote that we discuss at every meeting? Until we have that, then we have nothing to offer the Earthens that they do not already have.”

“We have land, Your Highness.”

Levana bristled. Though Haddon’s voice didn’t waver, she could see the hesitation in his eyes. With good reason.

“Land,” she repeated.

“All of the sectors together still take up only a fraction of Luna’s total surface. There is plenty of low-gravity real estate that could be quite valuable to Earthens. They could build spaceports that would require less fuel and energy to conduct their travel and exploration. That is what we could offer them. The same arrangement that the Lunar colony was first formed on.”

“Absolutely not. I will not return us to the political strength of a colony. I will not be dependent on the Earthen Union.”

“Your Highness—”

“The discussion is over. When you have another suggestion for how we can get around our dilemma of taxed resources, I will be open to hearing it. What next?”

The meeting continued amiably enough, but there was a tension in the court that never fully dissolved. Levana tried to ignore it.

She was the queen Luna had been waiting for. She would solve this problem too—for her people, for her country, for her throne.

*   *   *

“I’m telling you, I’m
good
at this,” said Levana, pacing giddily around the bedroom.

“I’m sure you are,” said Evret, laughing as Winter brought him a pair of Levana’s shoes from the closet. “Thank you, darling,” he said, setting the shoes aside. Winter gleefully darted back toward the closet. Looking up, Evret beamed. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.”

It was the happiest Levana had
felt
in a long time. “I’ve never been good at anything,” she said. “Channary was the better dancer, the better singer, better at manipulation, better at everything. But
ha!
I am a better queen, and everyone knows it.”

Evret’s smile became hesitant, and she knew he was uncomfortable speaking ill of the dead, but Levana didn’t care. It had been almost a year since Channary’s death, and she’d felt like even a day of mourning was too much. She suspected that the poor seamstress who would never walk again would agree with her.

Winter scurried by, handing her father another pair of shoes. He patted her head, where her hair had grown into wild curls that haloed her round face. “Thank you.”

She skipped away again.

“And the people. I think they’re really starting to love me.”

“
Love
you?”

Levana stopped pacing, caught off guard by the mocking in his tone.

Evret’s smile quickly fell, as if he had caught the derision too late. “Sweetheart,” he said, a name that he’d started using for her not long into their marriage. It simultaneously served to make her heart patter, and to make her question if he called her this so that he wouldn’t accidentally call her
Solstice.
“You are no doubt a good queen, and doing great things for Artemisia. But the
people
don’t know you. Have you even been to the outer sectors?”

“Of course I haven’t. I’m the queen. I have people who go out there and report back.”

“You’re the queen regent,” he corrected. Levana flinched—she was coming to despise the word
regent.
“And while I’m sure that the reports you get are very accurate, it still wouldn’t allow for the people to get to know
you,
their ruler. They can’t love a stranger.
Thank you,
Winter. And besides, whenever you do your news broadcasts, you always…”

She narrowed her eyes, waiting.

“It’s just … you never show your face, when they record you. Rumors are starting, you know. People think you’re hiding something. And love begins with trust, and trust can’t be formed if people think you’re hiding something.”

“Glamours don’t work through video. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

“Then don’t show them your glamour.” He gestured at her face. “Why not just be yourself? They’ll admire you for it.”

“How would you know? You’ve never seen me!”

He was momentarily taken aback, his dark eyes blinking up at her. Winter, too, stopped in the doorway, carrying yet another pair of glittering shoes.

Evret stood and cleared his throat. “You’re right, but whose fault is that?”

“Papa?” said Winter, cocking her head. “Why is Mother yelling?”

Levana rolled her eyes. This was how it had been since the day Winter started speaking. She addressed her father only. Levana was just the bystander, a
mother
in title only.

“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 beginning to wonder if this will ever become a real marriage, or if you plan on living this lie until one of us is dead.”

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 Channary had died, alone and childless. That Levana was already the true queen.

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 nanny being too distracted to notice.

Tripping on her own uncertain feet and tumbling down the hard palace steps.

The daydreams disgusted her at first—all over an innocent child, with big brown eyes and messy brown hair too frequently left uncombed—but she told herself they were just that, daydreams. There was no harm in imagining some innocent mistake that would lead to the baby dying, and the country mourning, and Levana being crowned the queen, now and forever.

Over time, the fantasies became more violent.

In a frustrated fit, her nanny would throw Selene off the balcony.

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.

Channary had been a terrible ruler. No doubt her daughter would be the same.

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 nanny would be there. Supposedly there was a new nanny, one that people didn’t know well yet, one that may not be entirely trustworthy. Levana would coerce her, making sure it seemed like an accident. She would …

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 annoyed and blew out the candles himself. They all laughed and clapped, and Levana stared at the black smoke curling upward and knew how she was going to do it.

She would do to the child what Channary had done to her.

Come here, baby sister. I want to show you something.

Only, unlike Channary,
she
would be merciful. She would not force the child to then go on living.

*   *   *

She stood in the doorway to the nursery, listening to the girls giggling in their playhouse. They had covered the top with blankets from Evret’s bed for added privacy. From here, Levana could see intricate apple blossoms embroidered around the edges of one of the blankets, and it surprised her to think that, no matter how many times she had slipped into Evret’s bed, she had never noticed those designs. The blanket was not something commissioned for the palace, which meant that Evret had brought it from his previous marriage, and had kept this secret part of Solstice hidden these past years.