Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story (21 page)

Still smiling.

She whimpered, but the sound was buried beneath the snow in her throat.

It’s all in your head.

“Silence,” said Levana, once she’d had her share of praise. “Are we finished?”

Finally, the ice found her eyes and Winter had no choice but to shut them against Aimery’s headless apparition, enclosing herself in cold and darkness.

She would die here and not complain. She would be buried beneath this avalanche of lifelessness. She would never have to witness another murder again.

“There is one more prisoner still to be tried, My Queen.” Aimery’s voice echoed in the cold hollowness of Winter’s head. “Sir Jacin Clay, royal guard, pilot, and assigned protector of Thaumaturge Sybil Mira.”

Winter gasped and the ice shattered, a million sharp glittering bits exploding across the throne room and skidding across the floor. No one else heard them. No one else noticed.

Aimery, head very much attached, was watching her again, as if he’d been waiting to see her reaction. His smirk was subtle as he returned his attention to the queen.

“Ah, yes,” said Levana. “Bring him in.”

Two

The doors to the throne room opened, and there he was, walking stiffly between two guards, his wrists corded behind his back. His blond hair was clumped and matted, strands of it clinging to his jaw. It appeared to have been a fair while since he’d last showered or enjoyed a full meal, but Winter could detect no obvious sign of abuse.

Her stomach flipped. All the heat that the ice had sucked out of her came rushing back to the surface of her skin.

Stay with me, Princess. Listen to my voice, Princess.

He was led to the center of the room, devoid of expression. Winter jabbed her fingernails into her palms.

Jacin didn’t look at her. Not once.

“Jacin Clay,” said Aimery, “you have been charged with betraying the crown by failing to protect Thaumaturge Mira, an action which ultimately resulted in her untimely death at the hands of the enemy, and also by failing to apprehend a known Lunar fugitive despite nearly two weeks spent in said fugitive’s company. You are a traitor to Luna and to our queen. These crimes are punishable by death. What have you to say in your defense?”

Winter’s heart thundered like a drum against her ribs. She tore her gaze from Jacin and looked pleadingly up at her stepmother, but Levana was not paying any attention to her.

“I plead guilty to all stated crimes,” said Jacin, drawing Winter’s attention back, “
except
for the accusation that I am a traitor.”

Levana’s fingernails fluttered against the arm of her throne. “Explain yourself.”

Jacin stood as tall and stalwart as if he’d been in uniform, as if he were on duty, not on trial. “As I’ve said before, I did not apprehend the fugitive while in her company because I was attempting to convince her that I could be trusted, in order to gather information that I could later relay to my queen.”

“Ah yes, you were spying on her and her friends,” said Levana. “I do recall that excuse from when you were captured. I also recall that you had no pertinent information to give me, only lies.”

“Not lies, My Queen, though I will admit that I underestimated the cyborg and her abilities. She was clearly disguising them from me.”

“So much for earning her trust.” There was mocking in the queen’s tone.

“Knowledge of the cyborg’s skills was not the only information I sought, My Queen.”

“I suggest you stop playing with words, Sir Clay. My patience with you is already thin.”

Winter’s heart shriveled. Not Jacin. She could not sit here and watch them kill Jacin.

She would bargain for him, she decided, though the decision came with an obvious flaw. What did she have to bargain with? Nothing but her own life, and she knew Levana would not accept that.

Perhaps she could throw a fit. Go into hysterics. It would hardly be a stretch from the truth at this point, and it might distract them for a time, but she knew it would only delay the inevitable.

She had felt helpless so many times in her life, but never like this.

Only one thing to be done, then.

She would throw her own body in front of the blade.

Oh, Jacin would
hate
that.

Ignorant of Winter’s newest resolve, Jacin respectfully inclined his head. “During my time with Linh Cinder, I uncovered information about a device that can nullify the effects of the Lunar gift when connected to a person’s nervous system.”

This caused a curious squirm through the crowd. A stiffening of spines, a tilting forward of shoulders.

“Impossible,” said Levana.

“Linh Cinder had evidence of its potential, My Queen. As it was described to me, on an Earthen, the device will keep their bioelectricity from being tampered with. But on a Lunar, it will prevent them from using their gift at all. Linh Cinder herself had the device installed when she arrived at the Commonwealth ball. Only when it was destroyed was she able to use her gift—as was evidenced with your own eyes, My Queen.”

His words carried an air of impertinence and Winter noticed Levana’s knuckles go white.

“How many of these hypothetical devices exist?”

“To my knowledge, only the broken device installed in the cyborg herself. But I suspect it would only require the patents and blueprints to make another. The inventor was Linh Cinder’s adoptive father.”

The queen’s grip began to relax. “This is intriguing information, Sir Clay. But it speaks more of a desperate attempt to save yourself than true innocence.”

Winter pressed her lips tight together.

“I agree, My Queen. But if my loyalty to the crown cannot be seen in how I conducted myself with the enemy, obtaining this information and alerting Thaumaturge Mira to the plot to kidnap Emperor Kaito, I don’t know what other evidence I can provide for you, My Queen.”

“Yes, yes, the anonymous tip that Sybil received, alerting her to Linh Cinder’s plans.” Levana sighed. “I find it very convenient that this comm you
claim
to have sent was seen by no one other than Sybil herself, who is now dead.”

For the first time, Jacin looked off-balance beneath the queen’s glare. He still had not looked at Winter.

The queen turned to her captain of the guard. “Jerrico, you were with Sybil when she ambushed the enemy’s ship that day, and yet you said before that Sybil had mentioned no such comm. Have you anything to add?”

Jerrico took a step forward. He had returned from their Earthen excursion with a fair share of bruises on his face, but they had begun to fade. He fixed his eyes on Jacin. “My Queen, Thaumaturge Mira seemed confident that we would find Linh Cinder on that rooftop, but at the time, she did not mention receiving any outside information—anonymous or otherwise. When the ship landed, it was Thaumaturge Mira who ordered Jacin Clay to be taken into custody.”

Jacin’s eyebrow twitched. “Perhaps she was still upset that I’d shot her.” He paused, before adding, “While under Linh Cinder’s control, in my defense.”

“You seem to have plenty to say in your defense,” said Levana.

Jacin didn’t respond, just held her gaze with casual indifference. It was the calmest Winter had ever seen a prisoner in that room—he, who knew better than anyone the horrible things that happened on this floor, in the very spot where he stood. Levana should have been infuriated by his audacity, but she seemed merely thoughtful.

“Permission to speak, My Queen?”

The crowd rustled and it took a moment for Winter to discern who had spoken. It was a
guard.
One of the silent ornamentations of the palace. Though she recognized him, she did not know his name.

It took a moment for Levana to respond, and Winter could imagine her calculating whether to grant the permission, or punish the man for speaking out of turn. Finally, she nodded.

The guard stepped forward, staring at the wall, always at the wall. “My name is Liam Kinney, My Queen, and I was also a part of the team on the rooftop that day, along with Thaumaturge Mira.”

A questioning eyebrow to Jerrico; a confirming nod received.

“As it was, I also assisted with the retrieval of Thaumaturge Mira’s body. We found her in possession of a portscreen. Though it was largely destroyed in the fall, it was nevertheless submitted as potential evidence in the case of her murder. I only wondered if anyone had attempted to retrieve the alleged comm.”

Levana turned her attention back to Aimery, whose face was a mask that Winter recognized. The more pleasant his expression, the more annoyed he was. “In fact, our team did manage to access her recent communications,” he said. “I was just about to bring forward the evidence.”

It was a lie, and that gave Winter some hope. Aimery was a great liar, especially when it was in his best interests. And he
hated
Jacin, which meant he would not want to give up anything that could potentially save him.

Hope. Frail, flimsy, pathetic
hope.

Aimery gestured toward the door and a servant scurried forward, carrying a shattered portscreen and a holograph node on a tray. “This is the portscreen that Sir Kinney mentioned. Our investigation has confirmed that there was, indeed, an anonymous comm sent to Sybil that morning.”

“What did it say?” asked Levana.

Aimery nodded at the servant, who turned on the node. A holograph shimmered into the center of the room—behind it, Jacin faded away like a phantom.

The holograph displayed a basic text comm.

L
INH
C
INDER
TO KIDNAP
EC E
MPEROR
. E
SCAPE PLANNED FROM NORTH TOWER ROOFTOP AT SUNSET
.

So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin.

Levana read the words with narrowed eyes. “Fascinating. Thank you, Sir Kinney, for bringing this to our attention.” It was telling that she did not thank Aimery, and Winter shifted with embarrassment on his behalf, her own internal pleasure barely surfacing amid the cloud of dread. Levana continued, “I suppose you will tell me, Sir Clay, that this was the comm you sent.”

“It was, My Queen.”

“Have you anything else to add before I make my verdict?”

“Nothing, My Queen.”

Levana slowly leaned back in her throne and the room hushed, everyone breathlessly awaiting the queen’s decision.

“I trust my stepdaughter would like me to spare you,” said Levana.

Winter winced at the haughtiness in her tone. Jacin had no reaction at all.

“Please, stepmother,” she whispered, barely able to form the words around her dry tongue. “It’s
Jacin.
He is not our enemy.”

“Not
yours,
perhaps,” Levana said, her gaze ever pinned on the prisoner. “But you are a naïve, stupid girl.”

“That is not so, My Queen. I am a factory for blood and platelets, and all my machinery is freezing over.…”

The court burst into laughter, and Winter recoiled. Even Levana’s lips twitched, though there was annoyance beneath the amusement.

“I have made my decision,” she said, her booming voice demanding silence. “I have decided … to let the prisoner live.”

Winter released a cry of relief. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late to stifle the noise.

There were more giggles from the audience, but Jacin’s eyes stayed stoically glued to the queen.

“Have you any other insights to add, Princess?” Levana hissed through her teeth.

Winter gathered her emotions as well as she could. “No, My Queen. Your rulings are always wise and final, My Queen.”

“This ruling is not finished.” The queen’s voice hardened as she addressed Jacin again. “Your inability to kill or capture Linh Cinder will not go unpunished, especially as your incompetence led to her successful kidnapping of my betrothed. For this crime, I sentence you to thirty self-inflicted lashings to be held on the central dais, followed by forty hours of penance. Your sentence shall commence at tomorrow’s light-break.”

Winter flinched, but even this punishment could not destroy the fluttery relief in her stomach. He was not going to die. She was not a girl of ice and glass at all, but a girl of sunshine and stardust, because Jacin wasn’t going to die.

“And Winter…”

She jerked her attention back to her stepmother, who was eying her with disdain. “If you attempt to bring him food, I will have his tongue removed in payment for your kindness.”

She shrank back into her chair, a tiny ray of the sunshine extinguished. “Yes, My Queen.”

Three

Winter was awake hours before light brightened the dome’s artificial sky, having hardly slept. She did not go to watch Jacin receive his lashings on the city’s central dais, knowing that if he saw her, he would have kept himself from screaming in pain. She wouldn’t do that to him. Let him scream. He was still stronger than any of them.

She dutifully nibbled at the cured meats and cheeses that were brought in for her breakfast. She allowed the servants to bathe her and dress her in pale pink silk. She sat through an entire session with Master Gertman, a third-tier thaumaturge and her longstanding tutor, pretending to try to use her gift and apologizing when it was too hard, when she was too weak. He did not seem to mind. Anymore, he spent most of their sessions gazing slack-jawed at her face and Winter didn’t know if he would be able to tell if she really did glamour him for once.

The day had fully come and gone, one of the maidservants had brought her a mug of warmed milk and cinnamon and turned down her bed, and finally Winter was left alone.

Her heart began to pound with anticipation.

She slipped into a pair of lightweight linen pants and a loose top, then pulled on her night robe so that it would look as if she were wearing her bedclothes underneath. She had thought of this all day, the plan forming slowly in her mind, like tiny puzzle pieces snapping together. Willful determination had kept any hallucinations at bay.

She fluffed her hair so that it might look like she’d woken from a deep slumber, turned off the lights, and climbed up onto her bed. The dangling chandelier clipped against her brow and she flinched, stepping back and catching her balance on the thick mattress.