The girl’s eyes widened. “But—”
“Oh, stars above, I’ll handle her request,” said Levana. “Go to your fitting, as it is clearly more important than listening to a message from a girl who has run herself ragged trying to get here.”
Channary snarled. “You will not speak disrespectfully to me in front of one of my subjects.”
Levana flattened her hands against her skirt, to keep them from becoming fists. “I meant no disrespect, My Queen. Only that you seem to have a lot on your schedule today, so please, allow me to assist you with your royal duties.” She nodded at the girl, who still remained on one knee. “What is your message?”
The girl gulped. “It is for a royal guard, Your Highness. Sir Evret Hayle. His wife has gone into labor. They fear … the doctor … they have requested that he come see her right away.”
Levana felt a clamp tighten around her rib cage, forcing all the air from her lungs. She glanced back in time to catch the dawning horror on Evret’s face.
But then Channary started to laugh. “What a shame. Sir Hayle has only just begun his shift. His wife will have to wait until he is relieved. Come along, Levana.” Gathering her skirt, she began marching up the steps.
Evret looked from the girl—a nurse, perhaps, or an assistant—to the queen’s retreating back. He seemed cemented to the spot in the middle of the corridor. To leave would be to disobey a direct order from his sovereign. Such an act would mark him as a traitor, and result in what punishment Levana could only guess.
But his indecision did not wane. How desperate he must be to defy the queen.
On top of that, Levana’s own curiosity was piqued. Babies were born all the time and complications were so rare, and yet, Solstice had seemed so weak …
Levana stepped forward. “Sister?”
Channary paused, nearly to the top of the stairs.
“I am going into town, and require an escort. I am taking Sir Hayle with me.”
Her sister’s face was murderous when she turned, but Levana lifted her head and fixed her own glare upon her. She would suffer the consequences later, and she knew very well there would be consequences. But she doubted that Channary would risk being defied in public a second time, and this way she alone would take the blame. Evret would only be following orders. Her orders.
The electrified moment stretched on for ages. Levana waited, and imagined that she could feel Evret’s terrified heartbeat pounding into her, even from six paces away.
“Fine,” Channary finally conceded, her voice nonchalant, and all the tension seemed to melt away from them. It was a false release, Levana knew. “If you happen to pass down Lake Boulevard, do bring me back some sour apple petites, won’t you?”
With a flip of her hair, the queen turned away and continued up the stairs.
Peculiarly dizzy, Levana realized that she’d been holding her breath.
Only when Channary was no longer visible did Evret break from his watchful position. “My wife?” he said, emotion filling up his voice, his shoulders, his eyes. He walked right past Levana and grasped the nurse’s elbows, lifting her to her feet. He seemed wary and anxious, almost as if he’d been expecting this. “Is she…?”
Still pale from her encounter with the queen, the nurse took a moment to comprehend his question, before sympathy creased her brows. “We should hurry.”
*
Levana was left in a waiting room while the nurse escorted Evret down the sterile white hall of the med-center. She saw them pause at a doorway, and Evret’s face was so contorted with worry that Levana wished she could wrap her arms around him and let all of his concerns soak into her. The nurse opened the door and even from this distance Levana caught a shrill scream before Evret disappeared inside and the door shut behind him.
His wife was dying.
The nurse hadn’t said as much, but Levana knew it was true. It was clear that Evret had been hurried here because it would be his only chance to say good-bye, just as it was clear that it wasn’t a complete surprise to him. Perhaps she’d been ill. Perhaps the pregnancy had already suffered complications.
Levana remembered seeing Solstice at the funeral. How she’d looked as breakable as a porcelain vase. The concern on Evret’s face as they’d moved through the receiving line.
Levana took to pacing back and forth. A holograph node attached to the wall was broadcasting a silent drama in which all of the actors wore elaborate masks and costumes and twirled together in a graceful dance, oblivious to the empty chairs of the waiting room.