*
She stood in the doorway to the nursery, listening to the girls giggling in their playhouse. They had covered the top with blankets from Evret’s bed for added privacy. From here, Levana could see intricate apple blossoms embroidered around the edges of one of the blankets, and it surprised her to think that, no matter how many times she had slipped into Evret’s bed, she had never noticed those designs. The blanket was not something commissioned for the palace, which meant that Evret had brought it from his previous marriage, and had kept this secret part of Solstice hidden these past years.
Realizing that she was fidgeting with her black wedding band, Levana let her hands fall to her sides.
Inside the playhouse, Winter said something about being princesses in the tower, but then it all dissolved into childish nonsense and laughter that Levana couldn’t follow.
It would be over after today, and that knowledge was a relief. She could stop thinking about the princess that would one day grow up and take everything from her. She could stop being haunted by the ghost of her sister and the legacy she’d left behind.
After today, all of Luna would be hers.
It had occurred to her that she could choose not to take Winter away after all, and to let the fire claim them both. Then all of Evret would be hers too. But then she thought of what a hollowed-out shell of a man Evret had been in the months following his wife’s death, and she couldn’t stand to watch that again.
“Oh, pardon me. Are you—”
Levana turned and the girl drew back with a gasp, before falling into a hasty curtsy. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn’t recognize you.”
The girl was no great beauty, with limp hair and a nose too large for her face. But there was a delicateness to her that Levana thought could appeal to some, and a grace in her curtsy that befit someone who had been hired to raise their next queen.
“You must be the new nanny,” said Levana.
“Y-yes, My Queen. It is a great honor to be in your presence.”
“I am not the queen,” said Levana, tasting her own bitterness. “I am merely keeping watch over the throne until my niece is older.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I … I meant no disrespect. Your … Highness.”
The giggling had stopped. When Levana glanced toward the playhouse, she saw that the girls had pulled back the blankets and were watching with curious eyes and open mouths.
“Winter is being seen by Dr. Eliot today,” said Levana. “I’ve come to take her.”
The nanny stayed in her curtsy, uncertain if she was allowed to rise and look upon Levana or not. It was obvious from the stretched-thin silence that she wanted to ask why the queen would bother when it was within the nanny’s own duties to make sure the girls made their appointments, or why the doctor didn’t come see the princess here in the nursery. But she didn’t argue. Of course she didn’t.
“Winter, come along,” Levana called. The blanket fell again, hiding the princesses. “You have an appointment with Dr. Eliot. Let’s not keep her waiting.”
“Shall I expect the princess’s return this afternoon, Your Highness?” asked the nanny.
Levana’s gut tightened. “No. I will take her back to our private quarters after the appointment.” She watched as Winter climbed down the ladder, graceful in the way that only a four-year-old child could be, even with her chubby legs and a very full skirt. Her hair bounced as she dropped to the floor.
The blanket shifted again. Selene, peering out from the gap.
Levana met her stare, and she could sense the distrust from the child, the instinctual dislike. Jaw tightening, she sucked in a quick breath.
“I have a job for you.”
The nanny, growing uncomfortable, rose from the curtsy. “For me, Your Highness?”
“Do you have a family? Any children of your own?”
“Oh. No, Your Highness.”
“A husband, or a lover?”
The girl flushed. She was probably no more than fifteen herself, but that meant so little in Artemisia.
“No. I am not married, Your Highness.”
Levana nodded. Selene had no family, and neither did this girl—none that needed her, at least. It was perfect.
It was meant to be.
A hand slipped into Levana’s, making her jump.
“I’m ready to go, Mother,” said Winter.
Pulse thrumming, Levana yanked her hand away. “Go wait in the corridor. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Crestfallen, Winter turned and waved at Selene. A tiny hand snaked out from beneath the blanket and waved back, before Winter floated out of the nursery.
Now. She would do it now.
After today, it would all be over.
Levana pressed her hands against her skirt, wicking off her damp palms. “Go into the playhouse,” she said, almost like she was speaking to herself. “Go be with the princess. It is almost time for her nap.” She spoke slowly, impressing the idea into the nanny’s mind. Reaching into a hidden pocket, she produced a candle, already half burned. “It will be dark under that blanket, so you will want this candle to see by. Set it out of the way so the princess doesn’t accidentally burn herself. Near the edge of the playhouse. Under that blanket … the one with the apple blossoms. You will stay with the girl until you both fall asleep. You are already tired. It will not take long.”
The nanny tilted her head to one side, like listening to a song that she couldn’t quite place.
Producing a tiny book of matches, Levana let the nanny hold the candle while she lit it. Her hands trembled with the spark of the match, fear of the flame tensing every muscle. By the time the wick took light, she could feel the flame creeping up the little match, threatening to singe her fingers.
Levana hastily shook it out, breathing easier the second the flame was extinguished. She dropped the smoldering match into the nanny’s apron pocket. The girl said nothing.
“Go now. The princess is waiting.”
Empty eyed, the nanny turned and wandered toward the little playhouse, carrying the lit candle aloft. Selene was peering out again. Confused and curious.
Licking her lips, Levana forced herself to turn away. In the corridor, she grabbed Winter’s hand without a word and tugged her toward the doctor’s office. Her heart was pummeling against the inside of her chest.
She had done it. She had done what she needed to do.
Now she had only to wait.