Though he tried, Jacin could not stifle a surge of rebellion at these words. She had raised Winter as her own? No. She tortured Winter by making her attend every trial and execution, though everyone knew how she hated them. She had handed Winter the knife that disfigured her beautiful face. She had mocked Winter relentlessly for what she saw as her mental “weaknesses,” having no idea how strong Winter had to be to avoid the temptation of using her glamour, and how much willpower it had taken her to suppress it over the years.
A wry smile crept over Levana’s bloodred lips. “You do not like when I speak of your darling princess.”
“My queen may speak of whomever she pleases.” The response was automatic and monotone. It would make no difference to try to deny he cared for Winter, not when every person in this palace had witnessed their childhood antics, their games, and their mischief.
He’d grown up beside Winter because their fathers were so close, despite how improper it was for a princess to be climbing trees and playing at sword fights with the son of a lowly guard. He remembered wanting to protect her even then, even before he knew how much she needed protecting. He also remembered trying to steal a kiss from her, once—only once—when he was ten and she was eight. She laughed and turned away, scolding him. Don’t be silly. We can’t do that until we’re married.
No, his only defense was to pretend he didn’t care that everyone knew it. That their taunts didn’t bother him. That every time Levana mentioned the princess, his blood didn’t turn to ice. That he wasn’t terrified Levana would use Winter against him.
Levana stepped off the raised platform. “She has been given the best tutors, the finest clothes, the most exotic of pets. When she makes a request of me, I have tried my best to see it done.”
Though she paused, Jacin did not think she was expecting a response.
“Despite all this, she does not belong here. Her mind is too weak for her to ever be useful, and her refusal to hide those hideous scars has made her a laughingstock among the court. She is making a mockery of the crown and the royal family.” She set her jaw. “I did not realize the extent of her disgrace until recently. Aimery offered his own hand in marriage to the girl. I could not have hoped for a better match for a child who has no royal blood.” Her tone became snarling and Jacin felt her studying him again, but he’d recaptured control of himself. She would get no rise from him, not even on this topic.
“But, no,” said the queen at last. “The child refuses even this generous offer. For no other reason, I can fathom, than to jilt my most worthy counselor and bring further humiliation on this court.” She tilted her chin up. “Then there was the incident in AR-2. I trust you remember?”
His mouth turned sour. If he had not been so careful to hide his mounting dread, he would have cursed.
“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.