“No?” Levana purred when he said nothing. “Allow me to spark your memory.”
Her fingers glided across the netscreen. It flickered to life inside its elaborate frame, showing footage of a quaint little row of shops. He saw himself, smiling at Winter. Nudging her with his shoulder, and letting her nudge him back. Their eyes taking glimpses of each other when the other wasn’t looking.
His chest felt hollowed out. Anyone could see how they felt about each other.
Jacin watched, but he didn’t have to. He remembered the children and their handmade crown of twigs. He remembered how beautiful Winter had looked as she put it on her head, unconcerned. He remembered ripping it away and stuffing it into the basket.
He had hoped the whole incident would go unnoticed.
He’d known better. Hope was a coward’s tool.
His attention shifted back to the queen, but she was scowling at the imagery, loathing in her eyes. His gut churned. She had mentioned a special mission for him that would prove his loyalty, yet all she’d talked about was Winter and what an embarrassment she’d become.
“I’m disappointed in you, Sir Clay.” Levana rounded on him. “I thought I could trust you to keep her under control, to make sure she didn’t do anything to embarrass me and my court. But you failed. Did you think it was proper for her to go gallivanting around the city, playing at being a queen before her loyal subjects?”
Jacin held his ground, already resigning himself to death. She had brought him here to have him executed after all. He was grateful she had decided to spare Winter the sight.
“Well? You have nothing to say in your defense?”
“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…”