“No, My Queen,” he said, “but I hope you’ll allow me to speak in her defense. The children gave her a gift as thanks for purchasing some flowers from the florist. They were confused—they didn’t understand what it would suggest. The princess meant nothing by this.”
“Confused?” Levana’s gaze turned brittle. “The children were confused?” She cackled. “And how much confusion am I to tolerate? Am I to ignore the sickening way they idolize her? How they talk about her beauty and her scars as if they were a badge of honor, when they have no idea how weak she is! Her illness, her delusions. She would be crushed if she ever sat on a throne, but they don’t see that. No—they think only of themselves and their pretty princess, giving no thought to all I’ve done to bring them security and structure and—” She spun away, her shoulders trembling. “Am I to wait until they put a real crown on her head?”
Horror filled up Jacin’s chest and this time he couldn’t disguise it.
She was psychotic.
This he’d known, of course. But he’d never seen her vanity and greed and envy enflame her like this. She’d become irrational, and her anger was directed at Winter.
No—Winter and Selene. That’s where this was coming from. There was a girl claiming to be her lost niece and Levana felt threatened. She was worried that her grip on the throne was loosening and she was overcompensating with paranoia and tightening control.
Jacin placed a fist to his chest. “My Queen, I assure you the princess is not a threat to your crown.”
“Would you not bow to her?” said Levana, spinning back to face him with venom in her eyes. “You, who love her so dutifully? Who are so loyal to the royal family?”
He forced down a gulp. “She is not of royal blood. She can never be queen.”
“No. She will never be queen.” She swayed toward him, and he felt like he was being encircled by a python, smothered and choked. “Because you are my loyal servant, as you have so vehemently proclaimed. And you are going to kill her.”
Jacin’s tongue ran dry as moon rock. “No,” he whispered.
Levana raised an eyebrow.
“I mean—My Queen.” He cleared his throat. “You can’t…” He looked at Aimery, who was half smiling, pleased with this decision. “Please. Ask her to marry you again. I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she agrees. She can still be useful—it’s a good match. She’s just nervous—”
“You dare to question me?” said Levana.
His pulse thundered. “Please.”
“I offered my hand to the princess as a kindness,” said Aimery, “to protect her from the offers of far less sympathetic suitors. Her refusal has demonstrated how ungrateful she is. I would no longer take her if she begged me.”
Jacin clenched his jaw. His heart was racing now and he couldn’t stop it.
The queen’s attention softened, full of honey and sugar. She was close to him. Close enough that he could grab his knife and cut her throat.
Would his arm be faster than her thoughts? Would it be faster than Aimery’s?
“Dearest Sir Clay,” she mused, and he wondered if she’d detected his desperation. “Do not think I am unaware of what I am asking you to do and how difficult it will be for you. But I am being merciful. I know you will be quick. She will not suffer at your hands. In this way, I also fulfill my promise to her father, don’t you see?”
She was insane. Absolutely insane.
The worst of it was that he thought she might actually believe what she was saying.
His fingers twitched. A drop of sweat slipped down his neck.
“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. Please … please spare her. Take away her title. Turn her into a servant. Or banish her to the outer sectors, and you’ll never hear from her again, I promise you…”
With a withering glare, Levana turned away and sighed. “How many lives would you sacrifice for hers?” She strolled toward the screen. The video was paused now, showing the three children in the doorway. “Would you rather I had these children killed instead?”
His heart kicked, trying to free itself from his rib cage.
“Or what about…” She turned back to him, tapping a finger against the corner of her mouth. “Your parents? If I recall correctly, Sir Garrison Clay was transferred to a guard post in one of the outer sectors. Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to them?”
He pressed his lips together, frightened that any admission could be turned against him. He had not seen or spoken to his parents in years. Just like with Winter, he had been sure the best way to protect his loved ones was to pretend he didn’t love them at all, so they could never be used against him. Just as Levana was using them now.
How had he failed like this? He couldn’t protect anyone. He couldn’t save anyone—
He knew his face was contorted with panic, but he couldn’t stifle it. He wanted to fall to his knees and plead for her to change her mind. He would do anything, anything but this.