She gulped. Winter. Solstice. Though they did not have seasons on Luna, she knew enough of the Earthen calendar to be familiar with how the words fit together. She remembered, too, the little baby blanket, embroidered with a snowy scene.
He meant to never forget his wife. Not for as long as he lived.
“Winter,” she said, wetting her lips. “Your daughter will be a princess, with all the riches and privileges afforded to a girl of her station. Don’t you want that for her?”
“I want her to be surrounded by love and respect. Not … not whatever games the people in that ballroom come up with to entertain themselves. Not whatever it is you’re trying to do to me.”
Clenching her fists, Levana strode forward so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Winter will have a mother, and you will have a wife. And I will love you both better than she ever could have.”
Shaking with fury and determination, Levana marched around him, back toward the palace. It took him a long time, but upon realizing that the princess could not be left unprotected, he followed.
* * *
The resistance started to leave Evret after that, and Levana hoped he was beginning to forget his wife. Or—not forget her—but forget that she was a different woman altogether. His eyes frequently took on a hollow stare when he was in her presence, and when other members of the court were nearby, he was as unreadable as some extinct first-era alphabet. He gave away nothing. He could have been a stranger.
Which she knew was wise of him. He’d been right before. If her sister wanted to accuse him of taking advantage of the princess, it would be in her right to do so. Levana wasn’t worried about it, though. Channary had her own romantic conquests to worry about and, besides, she had been making eyes at older men since she was even younger than Levana was now.
No, she was not worried.
Especially in those moments when they were finally alone. Those borrowed spaces of time when he was hers, entirely hers. She began to loosen her mental grip of him, little by little, and to her relief and her joy, his response to her only became braver. His hands more possessive. His caresses more daring.
The first night they spent together, he whispered a single word into her hair.
“Sol…”
Simultaneously filled with pain and pleasure, joy and rage, Levana had grit her teeth and held him closer.
When the dome brightened over the white city the following morning, Levana let him sleep until the servant entered to bring her breakfast. Mortified and distraught, Evret lay in bed, frozen, while Levana ordered the servant to cut and butter her rolls. Slice her fruit. Prepare the tea that she had no intention of drinking.
When the servant had gone, Evret scrambled from the sheets. She saw the moment when he took in the spots of blood on the white cotton. How quickly he turned away. How hastily he pulled on his clothes, muttering curses beneath his breath.
Sitting up against her feathered pillows, the tray settled across her lap, Levana dropped a berry onto her tongue. It was sour. Channary would have called for the servant to take it back, and the thought crossed her mind, but she buried it. She was not her sister.
“Not this,” Evret said, without facing her. “I didn’t think you would push it this far. I didn’t think—” He fisted a hand into his hair, cursing again. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”
She bristled, annoyed, but tried to play it off as a joke. “For leaving before breakfast?” Levana cooed. “I will have another tray sent for, if you’re hungry.”
“No. My daughter … she’ll have been with the nanny all night. I hadn’t planned on…”
Levana glared at his muscled back as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“I will pay for the nanny’s additional time. Stay, Evret.” She smoothed the blankets beside her.
He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes, shaking his head. Then, hesitating, he dropped the first shoe back to the floor. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Levana grinned as she sucked the berry juice left on her finger, and was preparing to scoot over, to make room for him against the headboard, when he started to speak, his voice thick with misery.
“I tried to leave. A week ago.”
Levana hesitated, pulling her finger out of her mouth. “Leave?”
“We were packed and everything. I was going to take Winter to one of the lumber sectors, learn a new trade.”
She squinted at the back of his head. “A new trade doing what? Toppling trees?”
“Maybe. Or at a lumber mill, or even making wood moldings, I don’t know. I just wanted to be anywhere but here.”
Aghast, she set the tray aside. “Then why didn’t you? If you’re so desperate to get away—”
“Her Majesty wouldn’t allow it.”
She froze.
“I gave her my resignation, and she laughed. She said she was having far too much fun watching you make a fool of yourself to let me go now. She even threatened to send guards after me and Winter if I dared to leave without her consent.”
Levana shivered. “I don’t care what she thinks.”
“I do. She’s my queen. She controls me as much as you do.”
“I don’t control you.”
He looked at her, finally, but his expression was bewildered. “What do you think this is?”
“I’m—! I barely—!” She dug her nails into her palms. “You want me as much as I want you. I see it in your eyes every time you touch me.”
He laughed, a cruel sound, so different from the warm, kind laughter she remembered. Gesturing at her face, he yelled, “You’re wearing my wife’s face! She was gone for two weeks and I was miserable and then she was back and I … but she’s not back. It’s you. It’s just you, and you don’t think that’s manipulative?”
Shoving the blankets aside, Levana scrambled into the robe left on her vanity chair. “It’s my face now. This is who I am, and you can’t tell me that what happened last night was a mistake. That you didn’t want it.”
“I never wanted this.” He massaged his brow. “The court is talking, and the other guards. The rumors about us—”
“What does that matter?” She choked down a calming breath. “I love you, Evret.”
“You don’t even know what that word means. I wish I could make you understand that.” He gestured to the empty space between them. “Whatever this fantasy is that you’ve built in your head. None of it is real. You are not my wife and I … I need to go be with my daughter. The only part of her I have left.”