Winter hopped up onto the bench, sitting on its back so that her feet were tucked under Jacin’s knee. Though the biodomes of Luna were temperature- and climate-controlled, there was always an extra chill beside the lake, warranting the closeness. She did not hesitate, as soon as the box was open, to pop one of her favorite candies into her mouth. The sweet-sour burst of apples melted across her tongue.
“S’pose you wan’ one?” she said through her full mouth, pretending resentment as she held the box out for Jacin.
He smirked. “So generous, Your Highness.”
She wrinkled her nose at him and took another bite.
There had been a time—right after she’d realized how hopelessly in love with her best friend she was—when she had become awkward and reserved. When she had thought that she must become a lady when she was near him, as she was expected to be in the presence of any suitor … should she ever have a suitor. She smiled demurely when he made a joke and she touched him only timidly and she sat like a proper princess when they were together.
That time had lasted for about three hours, until Jacin had given her a strange look and asked what was wrong with her.
There was no point in pretending to be someone else now. Jacin knew every one of her secrets, every habit and every flaw. There would be no hiding them, and besides, those three hours had served only to make him uncomfortable, not enamored.
A cold voice cut through their candy devouring, shooting a tinge of anxiety along Winter’s spine.
“Winter.”
A single word, her own name, that brought more dread with it than a thousand threats.
Jacin jumped to his feet, swiping any candy bits off his mouth as he bowed to the queen.
Winter was slower to follow, but she, too, lowered into a curtsy as her tongue dug out bits of candy from between her teeth.
“Hello, Stepmother,” she said.
The queen’s glare was focused on Jacin. “You are dismissed, Jacin. Go find some way to be useful.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, still in his bow, and a second later he was marching away from them, back toward the palace. The stiffness to his stride made Winter curious if he was mirroring the strut of the guards or if Levana was controlling his limbs.
“Did you need something, Stepmother?”
Levana stared at her for a long time.
A very long time.
Winter could read nothing behind her glamour, her placid expression, her breathtaking beauty. She had heard some rumors lately that she, Winter, the gangly princess with the unruly hair, might someday surpass the queen’s beauty. She laughed every time she heard such nonsense, knowing that it could be only empty flattery.
Finally, one side of Levana’s lips curved upward. Maybe it was meant to be comforting, but it failed.
“Come with me, Winter.”
She turned and headed back toward the palace without waiting to see if Winter would follow, because of course she would.
“You are spending too much time with that boy,” Levana said as they stepped beneath the portico overhang and back into the bright-lit corridors of the palace. “You are getting older. You are no longer a child, and soon you will have suitors and perhaps even requests for marriage. You must be aware of propriety and expectations. That is your role in this family. That is the part you will play on behalf of the crown.”
Winter kept her eyes focused on the floor. Nothing the queen was saying was news to her, but she had never broached the subject so openly. She did know what was expected of her, and marrying the son of a palace guard wasn’t it. She ignored the fact that Levana herself had married a man from the working class when she’d been just a princess. Winter’s father. A lowly palace guard himself.
The sneers and derision from the court continued even to this day, thirteen years after their marriage and four years after her father’s death. It was a mistake that Winter would not be allowed to make for herself.
She would marry for political gain.
Jacin would go off and become a doctor and she might never see him again.
“Of course, Stepmother,” she said. “Jacin is only a friend.”
It was the truth. He was a friend, albeit one she would cut out her heart for.
Levana took her to the elevator and they rode it to the top floor, to the queen’s solar. A private place that Winter had rarely entered.
The room was beautiful—the highest place in all of Artemisia. The walls were made of glass and she could see the entire city, all the way to the walls of the dome and beyond into the desolate landscape of Luna. Far off on the horizon, she spotted the glow of the other nearby sectors.
It occurred to Winter for the first time how odd it was that her stepmother was alone. No thaumaturge loitering at her elbow. No simpering member of the court trying to earn her favor. Only a single guard was posted at the solar’s door, and Levana sent him away.
Winter’s stomach began to churn.
“Master Gertman tells me that you have not been improving in your lessons,” said Levana, floating around a desk. “In fact, he says that you have not shown any sign of the Lunar gift in nearly a year.”
Winter felt a sting of betrayal, though she knew it wasn’t fair. The tutor was doing his job, and keeping the queen apprised of Winter’s progress was a part of it.
Her tutor could not be blamed for Winter’s choices.
Lowering her gaze, Winter did her best to look embarrassed. “It’s true. I don’t know what happened. I thought things were going well, but then … well, there was that suicide. You remember? The servant who threw herself into the fountain?”
“What of it?”
Winter shrugged sadly. “I tried to stop her once before. I used my gift to bring her away from the throne room ledge and it worked. I thought I’d done so well. But then … after she died, it was as though my gift began to weaken.” She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I try. I try so hard. But it’s like … it’s like my gift is broken.”
To her surprise, tears were starting behind her lashes.
Quite the actress she was becoming.
Levana sneered. She did not look even remotely sympathetic. “I had hoped you would progress well and become a useful member of this court, but it seems that you might take after your father after all.” She paused. “You are aware that he was not adept at his gift, either.”
Winter nodded. “Guards never are.”
She had no idea if her mother—her biological mother—had been skilled with her gift. No one ever spoke of her, and she knew better than to ask.
“But we do know, don’t we, that you are not as talentless as your father, because Master Gertman tells me that at one point you showed marvelous promise. In fact, he feels that you were once one of his most outstanding students, and he is as baffled as anyone over your current lack of ability. I wonder if this isn’t all due to some … psychological trauma. Perhaps pertaining to that suicide?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know how to fix it. Maybe I need to see a doctor rather than a tutor.” Winter barely smothered her own smirk. A doctor. What might they prescribe for the girl who was going crazy, who heard monsters clawing at her door nearly every night?
But she would not mention that. She knew what was wrong with her. She knew how to make the visions stop. But she wouldn’t give in to them. She was stronger than the monsters.
“No,” said Levana. “I have another idea, Princess. A bit of added motivation, to assist with your studies.”