The click of his boots echoed through the tunnel as he left them behind. He turned a corner and neither flinched nor slowed when he spotted Aimery waiting by the elevator.
When he was six steps away, Jacin came to a stop and clapped a fist to his chest.
Stepping aside, Aimery swooped his arm toward the elevator doors. The long white sleeve of his coat swung with it. “Let’s not keep Her Majesty waiting.”
Jacin entered without argument, taking up his usual spot beside the elevator’s door, arms braced at his sides.
“Her Majesty and I have been discussing your role here since your trial,” said Aimery once the doors had closed.
“I’m eager to be of service.” Only years of practice disguised how abhorrent the words tasted in his mouth.
“As we wish to once again have faith in your loyalty.”
“I will serve in whatever way Her Majesty sees fit.”
“Good.” There was that smile again, and this time it came with a suspicious chill. “Because Her Royal Highness, the princess herself, has made a request of you.”
Jacin’s gut tightened. There was no way to stay indifferent as his thoughts started to race.
Please, please, you hateful stars—don’t let Winter have done something stupid.
“If your service meets with Her Majesty’s expectations,” Aimery continued, “we will return you to your previous position within the palace.”
Jacin inclined his head. “I am most grateful for this opportunity to prove myself.”
“I have no doubt of it, Sir Clay.”
Eight
The elevator doors opened into the queen’s solar—an octagonal room made up of windows on all sides. The cylindrical elevator itself was encapsulated in glass and stood at the room’s center so that no part of the view would be obstructed. The décor was simple—thin white pillars and a glass dome overhead, mimicking the dome over the city. This tower, this very room, was the highest point in Artemisia, and the sight of all those buildings white and glittering beneath them, and an entire jewelry case of stars overhead, was all the decoration the room required.
Jacin had been there dozens of times with Sybil, but never for his own audience with the queen. He forced himself to be unconcerned. If he was worried, the queen might detect it, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to question his loyalty to the crown.
Though an elaborate chair was set on a raised platform, the queen herself was standing at the windows. The glass was crystal clear and showed no hint of reflection. Jacin didn’t know how they’d managed to make glass like that, but the palace was full of it.
Sir Jerrico Solis, the captain of the guard and technically Jacin’s superior, was also there, but Jacin didn’t spare him a glance.
“My Queen,” said Aimery, “you requested Sir Jacin Clay.”
Jacin dropped to one knee as the queen turned. “You may stand, Jacin. How good of you to come.”
Now, wasn’t that sweet.
He did stand, daring to meet her gaze.
Queen Levana was horrifically beautiful, with coral-red lips and skin as pristine as white marble. It was all her glamour, of course. Everyone knew that, but it didn’t make any difference. Looking at her could steal the breath of any mortal man.
However—and Jacin kept this thought very, very quiet in his head—the princess could steal both their breath and their heart.
“Sir Clay,” said the queen, her voice a lullaby now compared with the harshness from the trial. “Aimery and I have been discussing your surprising yet joyful return. I would like to see you reinstated to your previous position soon. Our guard is weaker without you.”
“I am yours to command.”
“I’ve taken into consideration the comm you sent to Thaumaturge Mira prior to her death, along with two years of loyal service. I’ve also had a team looking into your claims about this … device Linh Garan invented, and it seems you were correct. He unveiled a prototype he called a bioelectrical security device at an Earthen convention many years ago. As it happens, this discovery has also solved a mystery that my pack of special operatives in Paris had encountered earlier this year. We now know that Linh Cinder was not the only person to have had this device installed—but that her longtime protector, a woman named Michelle Benoit, had one too. We can only guess how many more might still exist.”
Jacin said nothing, though his heart was expanding at this news. Cinder had seemed sure no more of these devices had been made, but maybe she was wrong. And if she was wrong … if there were more of them out there … he could get one for Winter. He could save her.
“No matter,” said Levana, gliding a hand through the air. “We’re already finding ways to ensure no such invention will ever come to the Earthen market. The reason I called you here was to discuss what is now to become of you. And I have a special role in mind, Sir Clay. One that I think you will not find disagreeable.”
“My opinion means nothing.”
“True, but the opinions of my stepdaughter do yet carry some weight. Princess Winter may not have been born with my blood, but I think the people acknowledge that she is a part of my family, a true darling among the court. And I did love her father so.” She said this with a small sigh, though Jacin couldn’t tell whether it was faked or not. She turned away.
“You know I was there when Evret was murdered,” Levana continued, peering at the full Earth through the windows. “He died in my arms. His last plea was that I would take care of Winter, our sweet daughter. How old were you when he died, Jacin?”
He forced his shoulders to relax. “Eleven, Your Majesty.”
“Do you remember him well?”
He clenched his teeth, not knowing what she wanted him to say. Winter’s father and Jacin’s father had both been royal guards and the closest of friends. Jacin had grown up with plenty of admiration for Evret Hayle, who had kept his position even after marrying Levana, then a princess. He stayed a guard even after Queen Channary died and Selene disappeared and Levana ascended to the throne. He often said he had no desire to sit on the throne beside her, and even less to sit around drinking wine and getting fat among the pompous families of Artemisia.
“I remember him well enough,” he finally said.
“He was a good man.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her gaze slipped down to the fingers of her left hand. There was no wedding band there—at least, not that she was allowing him to see.
“I loved him very much,” she repeated, and Jacin would have believed her if he believed she was capable of such a thing. “His death nearly killed me.”
“Of course, My Queen.”
Evret Hayle had been murdered by a power-hungry thaumaturge in the middle of the night, and Jacin still remembered how devastated Winter had been. How inadequate all of his attempts to comfort or distract her. He remembered listening to the sad gossip: how Evret had died protecting Levana, and how she had avenged him by plunging a knife into the thaumaturge’s heart.
They said Levana had sobbed hysterically for hours.
“Yes, well.” Levana sighed again. “As I held him dying, I promised to protect Winter—not that I wouldn’t have regardless. She is my daughter, after all.”
Jacin said nothing. His reserves of mindless agreements were running low.
“And what better way to protect her than to instate as her guard one whose concern for her well-being matches my own?” She smiled, but it had a hint of mocking to it. “In fact, Winter herself requested you be given the position as a member of her personal guard. Normally her suggestions are rooted in nonsense, but this time, even I have to acknowledge the idea has merit.”
Jacin’s heart thumped, despite his best efforts to remain disconnected. Him? On Winter’s personal guard?