Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story (7 page)

“Not at all,” she said. “I could have called for…”

But he was not looking at her anymore. His attention had drifted to the window and latched on to his baby girl. Fathomless emotion misted over his gaze as he placed his fingers against the sill.

Then, between the heartbreak and the loneliness, there was love. So open and intense it stole Levana’s breath away.

What she wouldn’t give to be looked at like that.

“They tell me she’s going to be all right,” he said.

Levana kept her back against the window, afraid to catch her reflection and lose control of her glamour again. Afraid that if Evret saw her as she truly was, he wouldn’t want her anymore.

“She’s beautiful,” she said.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured.

Levana dared to fixate on his profile. The fullness of his lips, the slope of his brow. “She looks like you.”

He didn’t respond for a long time. Just stared at his little girl while Levana stared at him. Finally, he said, “I think she’ll have her mother in her, when she gets older.” He paused, and Levana saw the strain of his Adam’s apple in his throat. “Her mother—” He couldn’t finish. He brought his hands up to his mouth, fingers laced together. “I would give anything…” He pressed his forehead against the glass. “She’ll grow up without a mother. It isn’t right.”

Levana felt her heart stretching, like it was reaching out for him, trying desperately to connect. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, placing a hesitant hand on Evret’s arm, and glad when he didn’t pull away. “These things happen for a reason, don’t they? Look at the child she gave you. She served her purpose.”

Levana recognized the callousness of the statement at the same moment Evret jerked away from her. He turned to face her, shocked, and instant shame crawled down Levana’s skin.

“That isn’t … I didn’t mean it like that. Only that … that you and this child still have your whole lives ahead of you. I know you must be hurting now, but don’t give up hope on future happiness, and all the good things that are still to come for you.”

He scrunched up his face, as if in physical pain, and it occurred to Levana that she was probably saying all the wrong things. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t imagine being devastated at the loss of someone. She had never felt that before.

Besides, the future was clear to her now, even if he couldn’t see it through his sorrow. He would come to love
her,
Levana, once she was given the chance to make him happy.

“I commed a friend of mine, another guard—Garrison Clay. He and his wife are on their way here, to help”—he inhaled shakily—“to help with preparations, and … the baby…” He cleared his throat. “He can escort you back to the palace. I’m afraid I’ll be no good to you in my current state, Your Highness.”

Levana’s shoulders fell. She had been filled up with fantasies of what could happen when Evret escorted her back, led her to her bedroom chambers, realized he was no longer required to be true to just one woman.

None of those fantasies had involved her leaving him here to weep.

“I can stay with you,” she said. “I can comfort you. I can—”

“That is not your role, Your Highness, but thank you for your kindness. I would rather you had not seen me like this at all.”

“Oh.” She rolled the confession over in her thoughts, wondering if it was meant to be flattery.

“I haven’t thanked you, for what you did today. With the queen. But you have my gratitude. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Of course. I would do anything for you.”

He looked at her, surprised, and bordering on alarmed. He hesitated, before turning away again. “You are gracious, Princess. But I’m only a guard. My place is to serve
you.
”

“You are
not
only a guard. You are … you are perhaps my only friend.”

He grimaced, which she couldn’t understand.

Her voice dropped. “At least, you’re the only person who gave me a birthday gift.”

The look of pain turned to one of sympathy, and while his sorrowful gaze fixed on her again, she pulled the pendant from where it had been tucked beneath her dress’s bodice. His sadness seemed to only increase when he saw it. “I have worn it every day since you gave it to me,” she said, daring to speak over the yearning in her throat. “I value it above all the crown jewels, above … above anything on this moon.”

With a heavy sigh, Evret took the charm and wrapped it up in Levana’s fingers, then enclosed her hand in both of his. She felt dwarfed and delicate, like her heart was in her palm, not some vintage charm.

“You are a lovely girl,” said Evret, “and you deserve the most priceless jewels that have ever adorned a princess. I’m honored that you consider me a friend.”

She thought he would kiss her, but instead he pulled his hands away and turned back to the window.

Her heart was pattering now, and she knew her skin was flushed. She allowed some of the color to show through in her glamour. “I’m not like Channary. I don’t want jewels. What I crave is much more precious than that.” Levana inched toward him until her shoulder brushed against his arm. He shifted away, just barely.

He’s in mourning,
she reminded herself.
He’s doing what he thinks is proper.

But being proper seemed so very unimportant when her blood was simmering beneath her skin. When she felt like her heart would pound right through her rib cage if he didn’t take her into his arms.

She ran her tongue along her lower lip, every sense heightened, and inched toward him again. “Sir Hayle …
Evret…”
The feel of his name on her lips, never whispered so intimately but in her fantasies, sent a chill down her spine.

But he backed away from her again, and his voice changed. More stern now. “I think it would be best for you to wait in the lobby, Your Highness.”

His sudden coldness made her pause, and Levana slowly shrank back a step.

Mourning. He’s in mourning.

She gulped, her dreams doused. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t mean … I can only imagine what you’re going through…”

His expression softened, but he still didn’t look at her. “I know. It’s all right. I know you’re only trying to help. But, please, Your Highness. I’d like to be alone right now.”

“Of course. I understand.” Although she didn’t, not really.

She left him anyway, because he’d asked her to, and she would do anything for him. She may not understand his sorrow, but she
did
understand that Evret Hayle was a good man, and Solstice had been very, very lucky.

Soon, Levana told herself. Her life was changing, and soon perhaps she could be very, very lucky too.

*   *   *

She dreamed of him constantly. Holding her hand in the dining hall while her sister prattled endlessly about the newest gowns she’d commissioned. Gazing at her lovingly across the throne room while the thaumaturges droned on about outdated policies that Channary would never bother to understand or improve. And every night he crawled into bed with her, wrapped her up in his muscular arms, breathed warm kisses against her neck.

A figment of him was with her when she woke up each morning.

A shadow of him followed her down every corridor.

Every time she caught sight of a guard’s uniform from the corner of her eye, her heart ricocheted and her head twisted to see if it was him—though more often than not it was only her own stupid guards following respectfully in the distance.

Three days passed and his official time of mourning ended, but she did not see him.

Then a week.

It occurred to her that he may have taken leave from the palace to deal with his wife’s death and spend time with his infant daughter, and she tried to be patient. To give him space and time. To wait until he came to her—because surely he would. Surely he missed her as much as she missed him.

She imagined him in his bed at night, all alone and dreaming about her in his arms.

She imagined him coming to her bedchambers, falling to his knees as he confessed how much he adored her, how he couldn’t live another moment without knowing the taste of her lips.

She imagined them a happy family, her and Evret and the baby girl, playing make-believe together in the palace nurseries. She daydreamed about the plump little child crawling into her lap and falling asleep in her arms. She envisioned Evret’s soft gaze upon them, knowing that his family was complete.

That they were meant to be together.

That she was the love of his life.

Another week passed, and still she had no word from him, not seen him at all. With every day, her yearning grew and grew.

Then, after an entire long day had come and gone, her fantasy came true.

A knock sounded at the door to her private chambers, and Sir Evret Hayle was announced.

Levana scampered out of the nook where she’d been watching a documentary about Luna’s early colonization, shutting down the holograph node at the same time that she called up the glamour of the pale, invisible girl.

“Evret!” she cried, her heart thumping against her sternum.

He stepped back, startled, perhaps at her exuberance or the familiarity with which she used his name. He was holding a bundle of black-and-gold fabric in his arms.

Her two personal guards stood to either side of him, lacking any expression, as notable as statues.

“Your Highness,” Evret said, bowing.

“Please, come in. It’s—I’m so happy to see you. I’ve been thinking about you. Here, I’ll call for some tea.”

His brow was tense. He did not step past her threshold. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness, but I’m to report for my return to active duty this afternoon. I only wanted to bring you this.”

She hesitated. Return to active duty? So he had been on leave. She thought it might be a relief—part of her had been worried he might be intentionally avoiding her—and yet it was also irksome to think that he needed two entire weeks to mourn his wife, to attach to his daughter.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, pushing the door open more fully. “I will ensure that your tardiness is excused. Come in, just for a minute, please. I’ve mi—I’ve been worried about you. Wondering how you were.”

Still he hesitated, glancing down at the fabric.

“Sir Hayle. Don’t make me issue it as a command.” She laughed, but his jaw only clenched in response. He did, however, step inside. His eyes darted around her chambers like he’d just entered a cage. She shut the door behind him.

Her palms were growing damp, her pulse humming. “Come in. Sit down. I didn’t realize you were on leave. Though I’d been wondering…” She drifted into the parlor, and found that her legs were trembling by the time she lowered herself onto the cushioned divan. Evret did not come closer. Did not sit down.

She pretended not to notice his anxiety, but she
did
notice.

It made her own nervousness increase, memories of a thousand fantasies crushing down on her. Fantasies that had begun so much like this, only now it was real. He was
here.

“Speak, Evret. Tell me what’s become of you since we last saw each other.”

He pulled himself up, like bracing himself for a blow. His expression became stoic and professional, his gaze latching on the painting over Levana’s shoulder.

“I was grateful to be given this time to make arrangements for my deceased wife, as I know you’re aware, Your Highness, and also dealing with the effects of her business.” His voice started to break, but he recovered smoothly. “I’ve spent this past week clearing her needlework shop and auctioning off what assets I could.”

Levana’s mouth pursed in a surprised O. She hadn’t considered what might need to be done when someone died. After her parents’ death, the thaumaturges and servants had dealt with everything.

“I … am sorry,” she stammered, thinking it might be an appropriate thing to say. “I know you’ve been through a lot.”

He nodded, as if to accept her compassion.

“And how is the child?”

“She is well, Your Highness, thank you.” He sucked in a breath and held out the bundle in his arms. “I want you to have this.”

“Thank you, Evret. What is it?”

Levana hoped that, by not moving from her spot on the divan, it would compel Evret to come closer. To sit beside her. To finally look her in the eyes.

Instead, he unfolded the fabric and spread it out, revealing the elaborate quilt of Earth that Solstice had made, half of it pooling past his feet.

Levana gasped. It was every bit as striking as she remembered—even more so when surrounded by the luxuriousness of her royal chambers.

“Sol made it,” Evret said, his voice heavy, “but I think you know that already.”

Levana scanned the shimmering, patched-together pieces of Earth, up and up, until she was looking at Evret again. “It’s magnificent. But why are you giving it to me?”

His face started to crumple, and he seemed to be holding his emotions together through stubborn determination. “She told me that you’d come into her shop, Your Highness. She said you admired it.” He gulped. “I thought she would like for you to have it—as you were her princess, as you are mine. And I also thought … I wanted to show my gratitude to you, for persuading Her Majesty to let me go, when Sol was … You’ll never know what that meant for me, Your Highness. You’ll have my gratitude until the day I die.”

Levana cleared her throat, eyeing the quilt. She loved everything about it—the design, the impeccable craftsmanship. She loved that Evret was giving it to
her.
But she also knew that she could never look on something that his wife had made and not feel a twinge of resentment.

“The quilt is extraordinary,” she finally said, standing. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to store it somewhere safe, and we can give it to your daughter when she’s older. She’s the one that should have it.”

Evret’s eyes widened with surprise, then, slowly, softened into a hesitant smile. “I … thank you, Your Highness. That’s…” He looked away, pressing his lips tight with emotion. “That is incredibly kind.
You
are incredibly kind. Thank you.”