Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story (8 page)

She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I don’t want your gratitude, Evret.”

He let his arms relax too, letting the quilt sag in front of him. “My friendship, then,” he said. “If you still want it. Though I’m merely a guard, and not deserving of such a friend.”

His smile was so unnerving that Levana had to turn away, flustered. She could feel her cheeks heating. Her heart was a volcano, now, hot lava gushing through her veins.

“No, Evret. You must know that I think of you as more than … than simply a friend.”

The grin froze. His brow twitched with a hint of panic. “Your Highness—I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t want my coming here to…”

“To what?” she urged, taking a step toward him.

“To give the wrong impression,” he said, softening the words with another tentative smile. “You’re a sweet girl. Sometimes I think that you’re … you’re confused, but I know you mean well. And I know you’re lonely. I see how you are around the rest of the court.”

Levana bristled, mortified to think of all he had seen. Channary’s taunts, the court’s laughter …

“I know you need a friend. I can help you. I can be there for you.” Dropping one corner of the quilt, he dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, this is coming out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound so…”

“Condescending?”

He flinched. “I
care
about you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m here for you, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone you can be yourself around.”

Levana bit her lower lip, irritated, but also filled with such adoration for this man that she wanted to weep. Her gaze traced the continents of Earth, the patchwork of raw edges and shimmering gold thread. She inhaled, deeply.

“I know,” she said. “I know you care about me. You’re the only one who does.” Smiling bashfully, she dared to meet his eyes again. “First the pendant and now the quilt. It seems as though you’re trying to give me the whole world, Sir Hayle.”

He shook his head. “Only some kindness, Your Highness.”

Her smile brightened as she stepped closer, her bare feet treading across the luxurious quilt, crossing over Antarctica, the Atlantic Ocean … “Are you sure?” she asked, imitating the seductive way she’d seen Channary look up through her lashes at a potential suitor. “Are you
sure
that’s all you’re here for, Sir Hayle?”

His attention had dropped to her feet crossing over the quilt. His brow furrowed. “Your Highness?”

“I’m not
confused,
Evret. I’m not
lonely.
” She grasped the top edge of the quilt, and Evret let go. She let it fall to the ground, and his alarmed expression returned.

Evret stepped back, but without even realizing she was doing it, Levana reached out with her gift, subtly holding his feet in place. “Wha—?”

“I’m in love with you, Evret.”

The concern deepened, a hundredfold. “Your Highness—no, that’s not—”

“I know. I
know.
You were happily married. You loved your wife very much. I get it. But she’s gone now, and I’m here, and don’t you see? This was how it was meant to happen. This was always how it was meant to happen.”

His mouth was hanging open now, staring at her as if he didn’t recognize her. As if he hadn’t been smiling so sweetly at her a moment before, saying all those endearing things he’d said. As if he hadn’t already confessed the truth.

Friendship.
Friendship.

No. The pendant, the quilt, his being here all alone in her chambers.

This was not a man who wanted to be friends. He was hers, as much as she was his.

He held up his hands to block her as she inched forward again. “Stop this,” he hissed, keeping his voice low, as if worried that the guards outside the door might hear, might interrupt. “This is what I was afraid of. I know that you have”—he struggled for a moment to find a word—“
feelings
for me, Your Highness, and I am flattered, but I’m trying to—”

“I could be her, you know,” Levana interrupted. “If that makes it easier for you.”

His brow twitched, dismayed. “
What?
”

“I’m very good at it. You saw … you saw how convincing I can be.”

“What are you—”

The glamour of Solstice Hayle came easier this time, a little bit easier every time. Levana was sure she’d committed the woman to memory, from the slender arch of her eyebrows to the subtle curl at the end of her long, dark hair.

Evret recoiled from her, though his feet remained bolted to the floor. “Princess. Stop it.”

“But this is what you want, isn’t it? This way you can have both. I’ll be your wife. I’ll be the mother of your child. Pretty soon people will forget all about the one that died, it will just be me and you and our perfect family, and you’ll be a
prince
, Evret, which will be so much better than being a guard and—”

“
Stop it!
”

She froze, the fire in her veins doused with the anger in his tone. His breath had become ragged and he was leaning so far away from her she worried he would fall over. Scowling, Levana released the power she held over his feet and he stumbled back until he was pressing against a wall.

“Please,” he said. “Please go back to how you were. You don’t understand … you don’t know how you’re hurting me.”

Embarrassment wound its way up Levana’s throat, coupled with determination that was just as strong. She stepped closer, almost touching him. Evret tried to shrink away, but he had nowhere to go.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t want me. After the birthday gift, and the card. After … every time you’ve smiled at me, and…”

“Good stars, Princess, I’ve been trying to be
nice.
”

“You love me! Don’t deny it.”

“You’re a child.”

She ground her teeth, dizzy with wanting. “I’m a woman, as much as Solstice was. I’m almost the same age as my mother when she was married.”

“Don’t.
Don’t.
” His eyes were sparking now. Anger, maybe.

Or passion.

She looked down at his clenched hands, imagined them on her waist, pulling her closer. “I know I’m right. You don’t have to deny it anymore.”

“No! You’re
wrong.
I love my wife, and though you may look like her right now, you are
not
her.” He turned his face away, cringing from his own words. “The last time I was in this palace I disobeyed my queen, and now I’ve insulted my princess before I’ve even returned to my post. I can’t…” He grimaced. “By my word, I will tender my resignation from the royal guard tonight, and plead the crown will be merciful.”

Wetness was pooling in Levana’s eyes, but she blinked it away. “
No.
Your resignation is refused, and I will tell Channary to refuse it as well.”

He groaned. “Your Highness, please don’t…”

“I won’t let you. And I won’t let you deny what I know in my heart to be true.”

Levana had always been much more adept at using her glamour than at controlling a person’s emotions. That sort of manipulation was a job better left to the thaumaturges, with all their training and skills.

But now she forced her way into Evret’s thoughts as easily as plunging a finger into wet soil. Guards were always easily controlled—a security measure—and Evret was no different. His mind offered no resistance.

“You love me,” she said.
Pleaded.
She pressed her body against his, feeling the warmth and the strength and the forcefulness of his hands suddenly gripping her upper arms. “You love me.”

He turned his head away. She could see the struggle on his face, feel the resistance that he tried to throw up around his mind. Around his heart.

A pathetic attempt.

He couldn’t resist her. She wouldn’t allow it. Not now. Not when he was meant to be hers. When she knew he wanted this as much as she did, if only he would
see
it.

“You love me,” she whispered, her voice softer this time. “We belong together. You and me. This is fate, Evret.
Fate.
”

“Princess—”

She filled his heart with desire, his body with longing, his mind with the same certainty that she felt. She poured all her own emotions into him, and felt his resistance crumble. He shuddered, overwhelmed with all the same feelings that overwhelmed
her.

“Tell me I’m right. Tell me you love me.”

“I … I love you.” The words were barely a murmur, cracking with desperation, and his entire body sagged with their release. “
Sol…”

The name sent a jolt of hatred through her, but was forgotten when Evret Hayle pulled her close and kissed her. She gasped against his mouth, and he said it again, breathing the word into her.

Sol …

Then she was drowning. Drowning in sensation and heat and the rush of her own blood and yearning and want and he loved her …

He loved her.

          He loved her.

                   
 … he loved her …

*   *   *

“That one’s being difficult,” said Channary, bobbing her foot to the fast-paced orchestral piece and pulling a glossy red cherry between her teeth. Leaning over the railing, she tossed the stem over the balcony edge, letting it flutter down to the ballroom floor and become lost in the kaleidoscope of gowns and elaborate hairstyles.

Beside her, Levana did not lean or jog her foot or even attempt to discern which suitor her sister was referring to. Her attention was fixed on Evret, stone-still and imposing beside the ballroom staircase, in an identical uniform to every other guard, and yet looking somehow more like royalty than hired brawn.

His expression was composed and stern. He had not glanced at her once since the ball had begun.

“Oh, I see,” said Channary, flicking her eyelashes in Levana’s direction, then down at Evret. “Now that you have your own toy to play with, you won’t bother listening to me rant about mine?”

“He isn’t a toy.”

“No? A puppet, then.”

Levana clenched her fists at her sides. “He isn’t a puppet, either.”

Channary smirked. Turning away from the railing, she beckoned toward one of the servants. At their side in a moment, the servant dropped to one knee and held a tray up above his head so that Channary could inspect his offerings. A dozen cordial glasses were set into a spiral upon the tray, each containing a different colored beverage. Channary selected one that was bright orange and syrupy thick. “Stay there, in case I want another,” she said, turning back to her sister. “If he isn’t a toy or a puppet, then why in the name of Cyprus Blackburn have you spent the past month dressed up like his simpleton wife?”

Heat flooded Levana’s cheeks, but her glamour didn’t flicker. Always cool, always composed, always cheerful and delicate and lovely. That was how she remembered Solstice Hayle, from their brief interactions. That was how she would have everyone see her now.

“The poor woman died in childbirth,” said Levana. “I’m paying homage.”

“You are playing with his head.” A sly grin crept over Channary’s face. “Which would make me rather proud if you’d set your sights a bit higher. A palace guard, honestly. Once you’re done with him, perhaps you can make eyes at one of the gardeners.”

Levana cut her gaze toward her sister. “You’re quite the hypocrite. Just how many palace guards have kept
you
company over the years?”

“Oh, countless.” Channary took a sip from her drink, and her cunning smile lingered when she lowered it and inspected the poppy-colored contents again. She gave it a discerning sniff. “But never at the detriment of having fun elsewhere. Ideally, a lady will have three toys at once. One to romance her, one to bed her, and one to adorn her with very expensive jewelry.”

Levana’s eye began to twitch. “You have never had Evret.”

Laughing heartily, Channary set the barely touched drink back on the tray and selected an aquamarine choice dusted with something white and shimmery on top. The servant did not move. “That’s true. Though I’m sure he would be much less problematic than Constable Dubrovsky.” She sighed. “The minx.”

Dubrovsky?
Levana squinted down into the flurry of dancers. It took a while, but finally she spotted the constable dancing with a young gentleman whose name escaped her. One of the family heirs, she was sure.

“Perhaps the difficulty is in his personal preferences.”

Channary flicked her fingers. “I’ve come to learn that he isn’t particular. Except, evidently, he is not interested in his queen. I can’t understand it. I’ve been throwing hints at him since last sunset.”

Glancing down, Levana saw that the servant’s arm was beginning to shake. The drinks in his cordial glasses were vibrating. She selected a beverage that looked like melted chocolate. “You may go.”

Channary snatched up a daffodil-yellow liqueur before the servant could escape, holding both drinks in her hand as she leaned over the balcony rail. She trained her focus on the constable again. Not in a swoony or dreamy way, but as if she were analyzing a war strategy.

“If you want him so much,” said Levana, “why don’t you just brainwash him into wanting you? It would be much simpler.”

“You say that as if you have experience in such matters.”

Gut tightening, Levana couldn’t keep her attention from darting to Evret again. Stoic, statuesque Evret. Did his eyes ever follow her around a room like hers followed him? Did he ever sneak glimpses of her when she wasn’t looking? If so, she had yet to catch him in it, not once since their first kiss in her chambers.

“Manipulating your prey is an easy way to cheat at the game,” said Channary. She dipped her tongue into the blue glass, coating it with silvery powder, and swallowed. Her expression became surprisingly pleased. “But I don’t want to win that way. I will win when I go into Lunar history as the most desirable queen to ever walk these hallways.”

“The most undiscerning queen, anyway. Don’t you ever want to just … fall in love?”

“
Love.
What a child you are.” With no apparent premeditation, Channary downed both of her drinks in two successive gulps. She balked at the combined taste, then started to laugh. “Love!” she screamed out into the dance floor, so loud that a few of the musicians startled and the music blustered momentarily before picking up again. “Love is a conquest! Love is a war!” A few people down below had stopped dancing to gawk at their mad queen. Levana shrank away from her. “Here is what I think of love!”