When she had given Jacin Clay the opportunity to earn back her favor by killing the princess, she had expected him to try something stupid, but she’d hoped he would realize how futile it was. She’d hoped he would choose to hasten Winter’s death as painlessly as possible rather than risk a much more brutal sentencing. That was mercy, after all. Mercy.
But he’d failed. Winter was still alive and she was trying to take Levana’s army away from her, just as she’d taken the people’s adoration, just as Selene was ruining everything.
She tried to picture the scene. Docile, half-crazy Winter, batting her lashes at the brutal beasts, and them falling for it. Oh, how they would fawn over her. How they would fall to their knees and beg to do her bidding. How they would follow their beloved princess anywhere.
“My Queen,” said Aimery, placing a fist against his chest, “I feel responsible that we failed to find the princess during our raid on RM-9. Please allow me this chance to atone for the error. I will go to this sector and see that the princess is dealt with. I will not fail again.”
She turned to face him. “You intend to kill her, Aimery?”
A pause—a slight one, but there all the same. “Of course, My Queen.”
Laughing, Levana took a draft of the wine. “It was not long ago when you asked to marry her. Do you think she is beautiful?”
He chuckled. “My Queen. Everyone thinks the princess is beautiful, but she is no match for Your Majesty. You are perfection.”
“I have begun to wonder if perfection might be its own flaw.” She smirked. “Though perhaps a flaw can contribute to perfection.” She pinned Aimery beneath her glare and adjusted her glamour, drawing three sharp, bloodied scratches down her right cheek.
He gulped.
“I’ve known you for many years, Aimery. I know how you like them broken. You would have made a good match after all … you are as pathetic as she is.” She hurled the goblet. Aimery ducked, blocking the glass with his forearm. It crashed to the floor, the wine spilling like a mix of water and blood, splattering on Levana’s shoes. “You will have your chance to prove yourself, but not where Winter is concerned. It seems no one has the stomach to do what must be done—not you, not Jacin Clay, not even my beloved pets. I am sick to death of disappointment.”
She turned her back. Her thoughts reeled with betrayal, disgust, and jealousy—yes, even jealousy. All over that insignificant child. The weak, fragile thing.
If only she had killed her years ago, before she became so beautiful. Before she had become a threat. She should have killed her the first time she’d seen her sleeping in her cradle. She should have killed her when she’d ordered Winter’s hand to take that knife, when she’d thought for sure a slight disfigurement would erase all the whispers in the court, all the talk of her thirteen-year-old stepdaughter already vying for most beautiful girl on Luna.
If only she hadn’t made that stupid promise to Evret, all those years ago. What were promises, anyway, when made to the dying?
As her breathing evened again, she erased the scars from her own flawless complexion.
Thaumaturge Lindwurm took in a loud breath to remind her of his presence. “My Queen, we shall compose a task force to deal with the princess and the deserting soldiers. Shall I direct them to kill the princess on sight?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I am a good queen, am I not?”
Lindwurm tensed. “Of that, there is no doubt.”
“I have held this country together. I have waged a war for them, so my people might have access to all that Earth has to offer. I have done it for them. Why are they doing this? Why do they love her, when she has done nothing to deserve it? If she wasn’t so pretty, they would see her for what she is. Manipulative, conniving … she’s made a mockery of everything we stand for.”
Neither Aimery nor Lindwurm responded.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Levana snapped, “Find another servant to bring me more wine.”
Lindwurm bowed and retreated.
“Death is not good enough for her,” Levana murmured to herself, pacing past Aimery. “Death was the merciful choice, because I made a promise to my husband, but she has lost her right to mercy. I want them all to see her as she is. As weak and pathetic on the outside as she is within.”
Aimery’s lips tightened. He looked smug, even when he was groveling. “Tell me how best I can serve you.”
“This rebellion has gone on quite long enough. No food or supplies are to be sent to the outer sectors unless they are prepared to beg for forgiveness. It is time the citizens of Luna were reminded how lucky they are to have me.” Her heart fluttered with anticipation. “And send for Dr. Evans. I have a special task for him.”
“And the princess, My Queen?”
“Do not worry about your darling disfigured princess.” Sneering, Levana leaned forward and dragged her thumb across Aimery’s jaw, gathering a splattered drop of wine. “I will deal with her myself, as I should have done a long time ago.”
BOOK Four
“Are you afraid of poison?” asked the old woman.
“Here, I will cut the apple in two. You eat the red half,
and I shall eat the white.”
Sixty-One
Cinder was frustrated by her own helplessness. They’d moved into the mansion’s recreational room. Until then, Cinder hadn’t known mansions came with recreational rooms. She was doing her best to dictate to the others what needed to be done in order to extract the video she’d tried to take in the throne room, and how to fix her leg and brain-machine interface. But while they were running around gathering supplies, she was seated on a lavish sofa with her useless hunk-of-metal leg. She hated knowing she could have had everything working again easily enough if she was back in her workshop in New Beijing. If she had the right tools. If she wasn’t the machinery that needed fixing.