The electrified moment stretched on for ages. Levana waited, and imagined that she could feel Evret’s terrified heartbeat pounding into her, even from six paces away.
“Fine,” Channary finally conceded, her voice nonchalant, and all the tension seemed to melt away from them. It was a false release, Levana knew. “If you happen to pass down Lake Boulevard, do bring me back some sour apple petites, won’t you?”
With a flip of her hair, the queen turned away and continued up the stairs.
Peculiarly dizzy, Levana realized that she’d been holding her breath.
Only when Channary was no longer visible did Evret break from his watchful position. “My wife?” he said, emotion filling up his voice, his shoulders, his eyes. He walked right past Levana and grasped the nurse’s elbows, lifting her to her feet. He seemed wary and anxious, almost as if he’d been expecting this. “Is she…?”
Still pale from her encounter with the queen, the nurse took a moment to comprehend his question, before sympathy creased her brows. “We should hurry.”
* * *
Levana was left in a waiting room while the nurse escorted Evret down the sterile white hall of the med-center. She saw them pause at a doorway, and Evret’s face was so contorted with worry that Levana wished she could wrap her arms around him and let all of his concerns soak into her. The nurse opened the door and even from this distance Levana caught a shrill scream before Evret disappeared inside and the door shut behind him.
His wife was dying.
The nurse hadn’t said as much, but Levana knew it was true. It was clear that Evret had been hurried here because it would be his only chance to say good-bye, just as it was clear that it wasn’t a complete surprise to him. Perhaps she’d been ill. Perhaps the pregnancy had already suffered complications.
Levana remembered seeing Solstice at the funeral. How she’d looked as breakable as a porcelain vase. The concern on Evret’s face as they’d moved through the receiving line.
Levana took to pacing back and forth. A holograph node attached to the wall was broadcasting a silent drama in which all of the actors wore elaborate masks and costumes and twirled together in a graceful dance, oblivious to the empty chairs of the waiting room.
She did not leave the palace often, but now she found it refreshing to be where no one would recognize the glamour she’d been wearing since the coronation. The invisible girl, the unknown princess. She could have been anyone, for all the doctors and nurses knew. The medical center wasn’t very big—sickness was rare in Artemisia, so mostly the clinic served for setting broken bones or easing some elderly patient into death or, of course, childbirth.
Despite being small, the clinic was busy, the staff constantly darting through the halls, emerging from and disappearing into countless doorways. But Levana could think only of Evret and what was happening behind that closed door.
His wife was dying.
He would be alone.
Levana knew it was so very wrong to think, but she couldn’t fully deny the spark that flared behind her sternum.
This was fate.
This was meant to be.
His kind words at the funeral. His bashful glance during her birthday celebration. The little Earth charm. Your friend, and most loyal servant.
Was there meaning behind the words, something he couldn’t say before now? Could he possibly want her as much as she wanted him?
Evret seemed like the type that would never disregard his vows of matrimony, no matter how much he yearned for another. And now he wouldn’t have to. He could be hers.
Thinking of it made her whole body shiver with anticipation.
How long would he wait to make his intentions known? How long would he mourn the loss of his wife before he gave himself permission to declare himself to Levana, his princess?
Waiting would be agony. She would have to let him know that it was all right for him to mourn and love at the same time. She would not judge him, not when they were so clearly destined for each other.
Fate was taking his wife away. It was as if the stars themselves were blessing their union.
The door opened down the hallway.
Without waiting for an invitation, Levana hurried forward, concern and curiosity pulsing through her veins. Just before she came to stand in the doorway, a cart was wheeled through it and she jumped back to keep the corner from jabbing her in the stomach.
Plastering her back to the wall, Levana saw that it was not just any medical cart, but one that held a tiny suspended-animation tank. The baby lying on the blue, squishy surface was screeching and fussing, small hands and wrinkled fingers flailing beside its head. Its eyes were not yet open.
Levana had the sudden, encompassing instinct to touch the child. To run her finger along those tiny knuckles. To stroke the short tufts of black hair sprouting from that tender scalp.
But then it was gone, wheeled fervently down the corridor.
Levana turned back toward the doorway. As the door slipped shut, she saw Evret in his guard uniform, hunched over his wife. A white blanket. Blood on the sheets. A sob.
The door closed.
The sound of Evret’s sob continued on in Levana’s ears, bouncing around inside her skull. Again and again and again.
* * *
An hour passed. She spent more time in the waiting room. Grew bored. Passed by the closed door separating her from Evret a dozen times, but he never emerged. She began to grow hungry, and realized that all she would have to do is tell one person her identity and demand they bring her something to eat, and any person in this building would fall over themselves to fulfill her wishes. The knowing of it made her want it less, and she forced herself to ignore the gnawing at her stomach.