Then, between the heartbreak and the loneliness, there was love. So open and intense it stole Levana’s breath away.
What she wouldn’t give to be looked at like that.
“They tell me she’s going to be all right,” he said.
Levana kept her back against the window, afraid to catch her reflection and lose control of her glamour again. Afraid that if Evret saw her as she truly was, he wouldn’t want her anymore.
“She’s beautiful,” she said.
“She’s perfect,” he murmured.
Levana dared to fixate on his profile. The fullness of his lips, the slope of his brow. “She looks like you.”
He didn’t respond for a long time. Just stared at his little girl while Levana stared at him. Finally, he said, “I think she’ll have her mother in her, when she gets older.” He paused, and Levana saw the strain of his Adam’s apple in his throat. “Her mother—” He couldn’t finish. He brought his hands up to his mouth, fingers laced together. “I would give anything…” He pressed his forehead against the glass. “She’ll grow up without a mother. It isn’t right.”
Levana felt her heart stretching, like it was reaching out for him, trying desperately to connect. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, placing a hesitant hand on Evret’s arm, and glad when he didn’t pull away. “These things happen for a reason, don’t they? Look at the child she gave you. She served her purpose.”
Levana recognized the callousness of the statement at the same moment Evret jerked away from her. He turned to face her, shocked, and instant shame crawled down Levana’s skin.
“That isn’t … I didn’t mean it like that. Only that … that you and this child still have your whole lives ahead of you. I know you must be hurting now, but don’t give up hope on future happiness, and all the good things that are still to come for you.”
He scrunched up his face, as if in physical pain, and it occurred to Levana that she was probably saying all the wrong things. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t imagine being devastated at the loss of someone. She had never felt that before.
Besides, the future was clear to her now, even if he couldn’t see it through his sorrow. He would come to love her, Levana, once she was given the chance to make him happy.
“I commed a friend of mine, another guard—Garrison Clay. He and his wife are on their way here, to help”—he inhaled shakily—“to help with preparations, and … the baby…” He cleared his throat. “He can escort you back to the palace. I’m afraid I’ll be no good to you in my current state, Your Highness.”
Levana’s shoulders fell. She had been filled up with fantasies of what could happen when Evret escorted her back, led her to her bedroom chambers, realized he was no longer required to be true to just one woman.
None of those fantasies had involved her leaving him here to weep.
“I can stay with you,” she said. “I can comfort you. I can—”
“That is not your role, Your Highness, but thank you for your kindness. I would rather you had not seen me like this at all.”
“Oh.” She rolled the confession over in her thoughts, wondering if it was meant to be flattery.
“I haven’t thanked you, for what you did today. With the queen. But you have my gratitude. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“Of course. I would do anything for you.”
He looked at her, surprised, and bordering on alarmed. He hesitated, before turning away again. “You are gracious, Princess. But I’m only a guard. My place is to serve you.”
“You are not only a guard. You are … you are perhaps my only friend.”
He grimaced, which she couldn’t understand.
Her voice dropped. “At least, you’re the only person who gave me a birthday gift.”
The look of pain turned to one of sympathy, and while his sorrowful gaze fixed on her again, she pulled the pendant from where it had been tucked beneath her dress’s bodice. His sadness seemed to only increase when he saw it. “I have worn it every day since you gave it to me,” she said, daring to speak over the yearning in her throat. “I value it above all the crown jewels, above … above anything on this moon.”
With a heavy sigh, Evret took the charm and wrapped it up in Levana’s fingers, then enclosed her hand in both of his. She felt dwarfed and delicate, like her heart was in her palm, not some vintage charm.
“You are a lovely girl,” said Evret, “and you deserve the most priceless jewels that have ever adorned a princess. I’m honored that you consider me a friend.”
She thought he would kiss her, but instead he pulled his hands away and turned back to the window.
Her heart was pattering now, and she knew her skin was flushed. She allowed some of the color to show through in her glamour. “I’m not like Channary. I don’t want jewels. What I crave is much more precious than that.” Levana inched toward him until her shoulder brushed against his arm. He shifted away, just barely.
He’s in mourning, she reminded herself. He’s doing what he thinks is proper.
But being proper seemed so very unimportant when her blood was simmering beneath her skin. When she felt like her heart would pound right through her rib cage if he didn’t take her into his arms.
She ran her tongue along her lower lip, every sense heightened, and inched toward him again. “Sir Hayle … Evret…” The feel of his name on her lips, never whispered so intimately but in her fantasies, sent a chill down her spine.
But he backed away from her again, and his voice changed. More stern now. “I think it would be best for you to wait in the lobby, Your Highness.”
His sudden coldness made her pause, and Levana slowly shrank back a step.
Mourning. He’s in mourning.
She gulped, her dreams doused. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t mean … I can only imagine what you’re going through…”
His expression softened, but he still didn’t look at her. “I know. It’s all right. I know you’re only trying to help. But, please, Your Highness. I’d like to be alone right now.”
“Of course. I understand.” Although she didn’t, not really.
She left him anyway, because he’d asked her to, and she would do anything for him. She may not understand his sorrow, but she did understand that Evret Hayle was a good man, and Solstice had been very, very lucky.
Soon, Levana told herself. Her life was changing, and soon perhaps she could be very, very lucky too.
* * *
She dreamed of him constantly. Holding her hand in the dining hall while her sister prattled endlessly about the newest gowns she’d commissioned. Gazing at her lovingly across the throne room while the thaumaturges droned on about outdated policies that Channary would never bother to understand or improve. And every night he crawled into bed with her, wrapped her up in his muscular arms, breathed warm kisses against her neck.
A figment of him was with her when she woke up each morning.
A shadow of him followed her down every corridor.
Every time she caught sight of a guard’s uniform from the corner of her eye, her heart ricocheted and her head twisted to see if it was him—though more often than not it was only her own stupid guards following respectfully in the distance.
Three days passed and his official time of mourning ended, but she did not see him.
Then a week.