He turned away. Levana stared at his back, feeling not like a queen at all. She was a stupid child, a pathetic girl, a fragile, destroyed thing.
“I love you,” she whispered. “That much has always been real.”
He tensed, but if he had any response, she left before she could hear it.
* * *
“Come here, baby sister. I want to show you something.” Channary smiled her warmest smile, waving Levana over excitedly.
Instincts told her to be cautious, as Channary’s enthusiasm had turned into cruelty before. But she was hard to resist, and even as Levana’s instincts were telling her to back away, her legs carried her forward.
Channary knew better than to use her gift on soft-minded children, especially her young sister. She’d been scolded by their nannies a hundred times.
In response, she’d only gotten more secretive about it.
Channary was kneeling before the holographic fireplace of their shared nursery, the gentle warmth in contrast to the roaring flames and crackling logs in the illusion. With the exception of celebratory candles, fire was strictly forbidden on Luna. The smoke would too quickly fill up the domes, poisoning their precious air supply. But holographic fireplaces had been popular for some time now, and Levana always liked to watch how the flames danced and defied predictability, how the wooden logs smoldered and crumbled and sparked. She would watch them for hours, amazed at how the fire seemed to always be burning low, eating into the logs, and yet never went out altogether.
“Watch,” said Channary, once Levana settled beside her. She had set a small bowl of glittering white sand on the carpet, and now she took a pinch of the sand and flicked it at the holographic flames.
Nothing happened.
Gut tightening with apprehension, Levana looked at her sister. Channary’s dark eyes were dancing with the firelight.
“They’re not real, right?” Leaning over, Channary passed her hand through the flames. Her fingers came away unblemished. “Just an illusion. Just like a glamour.”
Levana was still too young to have much control over her own glamour, but she did have a sense that it wasn’t exactly the same thing as this holographic fireplace.
“Go ahead,” said Channary. “Touch it.”
“I don’t want to.”
Channary glared at her. “Don’t be a baby. It isn’t real, Levana.”
“I know, but … I don’t want to.” Some instinct made Levana curl her hands in her lap. She knew it wasn’t real. She knew the holograph wouldn’t hurt. But she also knew that fire was dangerous, and illusions were dangerous, and being tricked into believing things that weren’t real was often the most dangerous thing of all.
Snarling, Channary grabbed Levana’s arm and tugged her forward, nearly pulling Levana’s entire torso into the flames. Levana shrieked and struggled to pull back, but Channary held firm, holding her small hand into the glowing flames of the holograph.
She felt nothing, of course. Just that same subtle warmth that the fire always released, to make it seem more authentic.
After a moment, Levana’s heartbeat started to temper itself.
“See?” said Channary, though Levana wasn’t sure what point she’d just made. She still didn’t want to touch the holograph, and as soon as her sister released her, she pulled her hand back and inched away on the carpet.
Channary ignored the retreat.
“Now—watch.” Reaching behind her, Channary produced a book of matches that she must have taken from the altar in the great hall. She had struck one before Levana could begin to question it, and leaned over, pressing the match into the bottom of the holograph.
There should not have been anything flammable. The hearth should not have caught fire. But it wasn’t long before Levana could see a new brightness among the smoldering logs. The real flame licked and sputtered, and after a while Levana could make out the edges of dried leaves charring and curling. The kindling had been hidden by the holograph before, but as the real fire took hold, its brightness far outshone the illusion.
Levana’s shoulders knotted. A warning in her head told her to get up and walk away, to go tell someone that Channary was breaking the rules, to leave fast before the fire grew any larger.
But she didn’t. Channary would only call her a baby again, and if Levana dared to get the crown princess in trouble, Channary would find ways to punish her later.
She stayed rooted to the carpet, watching the flames grow and grow.
Once they were almost as big as the holograph, Channary again reached into the little bowl of sand—or maybe it was sugar?—and tossed a pinch into the flames.
This time they turned blue, crackled and sparked and faded away.
Levana gasped.
Channary did it a few more times, growing more daring as her experiment succeeded. Two pinches at a time, now. Here, an entire handful, like little fireworks.
“Do you want to try?”
Levana nodded. Pinched the tiny crystals and tossed them into the flames. She laughed as the blue sparklers billowed up toward the top of the enclosure and crashed into the stone wall where there should have been a chimney.
Rising to her feet, Channary began searching through the nursery, finding anything that might be entertaining to watch burn. A stuffed giraffe that smoked and charred and took a long time to catch flame. An old doll shoe that melted and furled. Wooden game pieces that were slowly scorched beneath their protective glaze.
But while Levana was entranced by the flames—so very real, with their smell of ashes and the almost painful heat blasting against her face and the smoke that was darkening the wallpaper overhead—she could tell that Channary was growing more anxious with each experiment. Nothing was as enchanting as the simple, elegant blue and orange sparks from the sugar bowl.