She thought of Solstice, the woman he had loved so very much.
Levana decided that her hair would be just a bit glossier, and added a hint of red on a whim—for contrast, for allure. Her eyes would be larger, with more depth of color. Her lashes thicker and her complexion shimmering and flawless. Her bust would be a little fuller and her waist a little trimmer and her lips would be a little … no, not a little. Her lips would be strikingly, vividly red.
When Evret looked at her, he would see perfection.
When any man looked at her, he would see perfection.
Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she truly was hideous. But so long as she could deceive everyone, what did it matter? She would make even that constable want her if she chose to.
She waited until the glamour had fully pieced together. These visions were what she was good at. The ability to make her glamour so real that she had no use of her true skin anymore.
Confident once more, she glided down to the base of the ramp. A few heads swiveled toward her as she floated among the dancers. She did not head straight for Evret, but rather curtsied and smiled at the nobles who sent her curious glances, making a slow but steady trail through the ballroom.
Even so, she was almost close enough to touch him before his absent gaze locked on to hers. For a moment he seemed to peer right through her. Then there was bewilderment, as his dark eyes scooped down her body before latching on to her face again.
Then, a strange mixture. Desire, she was sure of it—but also, perhaps, fear?
She did not know what to make of that.
“Sir Hayle,” she said, and in that moment, she made the lightning choice to even improve upon her voice. Like a lullaby, she thought. I will speak like whimsical birdsong. “I would like to take a stroll by the lake. Will you accompany me?”
He wrestled with the request for all of two heartbeats, before dropping his head in a silent nod.
His station commanded that he follow at a respectful distance behind her as they traversed through the palace corridors and emerged onto the stone portico that divided the palace from the gardens and lakeshore. Artemisia Lake glinted in the darkness, reflecting the lights of the palace back up to the sky, along with an entire ocean’s worth of stars. Levana had often imagined that she could dive into the water and find herself floating in space.
“When I was a child, I believed there would come a time when I would enjoy these parties,” she said, trusting that Evret was listening although he walked some paces behind her. “But now I can see that they will never grow any less tiresome. Political dalliances, all under the guise of innocent amusement.”
She smiled to herself, pleased with how wise and mature her words sounded. She felt more self-assured with her improved glamour than she had in months. Maybe her whole life.
“I would much rather be out here, enjoying such a pristine evening.” She turned back. Evret lingered a dozen paces away, his face cast in shadow. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Princess.” The word sent a shiver down her spine, for it was full of everything she’d seen in his eyes in the ballroom. Bewilderment and desire and fear.
“Why do you stand so far away, Sir Hayle?”
“I can protect you well enough from here, Your Highness.”
“Can you? And what if an assassin were to fire a shot into my heart from one of those windows? Would you manage to get to me in time?”
“It is not an assassin I fear you need protection from.”
She reached for the chain around her neck. “Then what do I need protection from?” She took a hesitant step toward him.
“Yourself,” he said firmly. Then he stepped back and said, with much less conviction, “Or me, if you come any closer.”
She paused. There was something different about him tonight, a strange reaction to her glamour. She wasn’t sure if this was what she’d hoped for or not. Since the day he’d come to her chambers they had shared a hundred stolen moments. A brush of skin outside the dining hall. A possessive hand on her waist as she disappeared into her bedchambers for the night. A hasty, desperate kiss in the servants’ halls before the changing of the guard.
But Levana was not so na?ve as to pretend that every moment hadn’t required mental pressure from her. Reshaping his thoughts to match her own, forcing her own desire upon him, reminding him again and again that he loved her. He loved her.
And six times—six times—he had broken the guard’s code of conduct, the rule that he was not to speak unless one of his superiors bid him, to tell her that this had to stop. He had told her that he was confused and heartbroken and he couldn’t imagine what had come over him and he hadn’t meant to take advantage of her and he didn’t blame her at all but they had to stop, they had to stop … until he was kissing her again.
So far, tonight, Levana had not had to manipulate his emotions. So far, it was only her glamour that had cajoled him.