*
“Yes. Yes. This will work. I’m pleased.”
The technician bowed, his face contorted with obvious relief, but Levana was already ignoring him, her attention captured by the special screen she’d commissioned to be installed into the silver frame of her sister’s mirror. The destroyed glass had been thrown into the lake with all the rest of it.
She drew a finger across the screen, testing its functionality. Most of the entertainment on Luna was broadcast through the holograph nodes or on the enormous screens set into the walls of the domes themselves. But comms and video feeds from Earth didn’t always translate to the holographs, so her newly commissioned netscreen was more akin to Earthen technology. It was as useful as it was beautiful. She would need it for the surveillance she hoped to conduct on the people of the outer sectors. For her discussions with the Commonwealth emperor. For the newsfeeds she would be monitoring, closely, once her army was unleashed.
A good queen was a well-informed queen.
She paused when one of the Earthen newsfeeds showed the royal family of the Eastern Commonwealth. Emperor Rikan standing alone at the podium with his country’s flag like a sunrise behind him. The young prince stood beside a sour-faced political adviser, his eyes downcast. He was a string bean of a child, not much older than Winter. But it was his father, expression equally miserable, that held Levana’s attention.
The press conference was to discuss their recent tragedy.
The beloved empress was dead, having contracted none other than Levana’s disease during a philanthropic trip to a plague-ridden town at the western edge of the Commonwealth.
Dead of letumosis.
Levana laughed—she couldn’t help herself—remembering Channary’s dreamy, offhanded comment that the empress might someday find herself assassinated.
This was not an assassination. This was not murder.
This was fate.
Simple, exquisite, blindingly obvious fate.
No longer could Earth flaunt its perfect royal family, in their perfect little palace, on their perfect little planet. No longer could they claim the happiness that had eluded Levana for so long.
“My Queen?”
She turned back to the technician. He was clutching a pair of gloves in his hands, and he looked terrified.
“Yes?”
“I only wanted to mention that … you are aware, I hope, that your—that glamours do not translate through netscreens? Should you wish to send any video comms, or conduct any broadcasts, that is.”
A smile stretched across Levana’s lips. “Do not worry. I have already commissioned something special from my dressmaker for just such an occasion.” She glanced at the sheer lacy veil that had been delivered a few days before, much more sophisticated than the canopy curtains, yet with all the same mystery and security they’d afforded her.
Dismissing the technician, Levana turned back to watch the muted feed of the Commonwealth’s royal family. Since her fight with Evret over a month before and her assault on the palace’s mirrors, she’d delved into her role as queen more than she’d ever done before. She hardly slept. She hardly ate. She and Sybil Mira and the rest of the court spent long hours discussing trade and manufacturing agreements between the outer sectors, and new methods to increase productivity. More guards were needed to patrol the outer sectors—so more guards were drafted and began their training. Some of the young men they’d tried to draft didn’t want to be guards at all, especially those who had family in the same sectors they would be monitoring. Levana solved the problem by threatening the livelihoods of those very families they were so concerned about, and watched how quickly the young men changed their minds. The curfew, instated for the necessary rest and protection of the workers, had not been popular to begin with, but after Levana had suggested they make public examples of those civilians who refused to obey the new laws, the people began to see the reasonableness of such strict expectations.
Even as she was making her country stronger and more stable, there was one burgeoning problem that Levana couldn’t ignore.
Luna’s resources were dwindling faster than ever, just as the reports had said they would. Only regolith seemed to be in endless supply, but their water and agriculture, their forest industry and metal-recycling plants were all dependent on the space within the atmosphere-and-gravity-controlled domes, and the materials that had been brought up from Earth so many generations ago.
More luxuries, more diverse crops, more military weaponry and training grounds and shipbuilding, all equaled fewer resources.
The court representatives warned her that they could not sustain this level of advancement for more than a decade or two.
On the screen, Emperor Rikan was leaving the stage. The crown prince was fidgeting with his necktie. The people of the Commonwealth were crying.
“Earth,” Levana whispered, tasting the word on her tongue, and it felt like the first time she’d said it. Or, the first time she’d meant it. Earth. “That is what we need.”
And why shouldn’t they take it? They were the more advanced society, the more advanced species. They were stronger, and smarter, and more powerful. Earthens were but children in comparison.
But how best to take it? There were far too many Earthens to brainwash, even if she divided her entire court among them. Though letumosis was spreading—it would be years still before she could make use of her antidote. And her wolf soldiers were not yet ready for any sort of full-scale attack. There was still so much work to be done if she had any hope of taking Earth by force.
But as she learned from Channary, one did not always have to take things by force. Sometimes it was better if you made them come to you. Made them want you.
A marriage alliance then, just as Channary had dreamed for herself, all those years ago. Princess Winter would make a good match for this boy, but Winter had no royal blood. The alliance would be too superficial.
No, it had to be the queen. It had to be Levana. It had to be someone who could, someday, someday, produce an heir to the throne.
Pressing her lips, she turned off the screen.
She would have to do it, she knew. For the people. For their future. For Luna.
For all of Earth.