Fairest (Page 29)

“Winter, come along,” Levana called. The blanket fell again, hiding the princesses. “You have an appointment with Dr. Eliot. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

“Shall I expect the princess’s return this afternoon, Your Highness?” asked the nanny.

Levana’s gut tightened. “No. I will take her back to our private quarters after the appointment.” She watched as Winter climbed down the ladder, graceful in the way that only a four-year-old child could be, even with her chubby legs and a very full skirt. Her hair bounced as she dropped to the floor.

The blanket shifted again. Selene, peering out from the gap.

Levana met her stare, and she could sense the distrust from the child, the instinctual dislike. Jaw tightening, she sucked in a quick breath.

“I have a job for you.”

The nanny, growing uncomfortable, rose from the curtsy. “For me, Your Highness?”

“Do you have a family? Any children of your own?”

“Oh. No, Your Highness.”

“A husband, or a lover?”

The girl flushed. She was probably no more than fifteen herself, but that meant so little in Artemisia.

“No. I am not married, Your Highness.”

Levana nodded. Selene had no family, and neither did this girl—none that needed her, at least. It was perfect.

It was meant to be.

A hand slipped into Levana’s, making her jump.

“I’m ready to go, Mother,” said Winter.

Pulse thrumming, Levana yanked her hand away. “Go wait in the corridor. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Crestfallen, Winter turned and waved at Selene. A tiny hand snaked out from beneath the blanket and waved back, before Winter floated out of the nursery.

Now. She would do it now.

After today, it would all be over.

Levana pressed her hands against her skirt, wicking off her damp palms. “Go into the playhouse,” she said, almost like she was speaking to herself. “Go be with the princess. It is almost time for her nap.” She spoke slowly, impressing the idea into the nanny’s mind. Reaching into a hidden pocket, she produced a candle, already half burned. “It will be dark under that blanket, so you will want this candle to see by. Set it out of the way so the princess doesn’t accidentally burn herself. Near the edge of the playhouse. Under that blanket … the one with the apple blossoms. You will stay with the girl until you both fall asleep. You are already tired. It will not take long.”

The nanny tilted her head to one side, like listening to a song that she couldn’t quite place.

Producing a tiny book of matches, Levana let the nanny hold the candle while she lit it. Her hands trembled with the spark of the match, fear of the flame tensing every muscle. By the time the wick took light, she could feel the flame creeping up the little match, threatening to singe her fingers.

Levana hastily shook it out, breathing easier the second the flame was extinguished. She dropped the smoldering match into the nanny’s apron pocket. The girl said nothing.

“Go now. The princess is waiting.”

Empty eyed, the nanny turned and wandered toward the little playhouse, carrying the lit candle aloft. Selene was peering out again. Confused and curious.

Licking her lips, Levana forced herself to turn away. In the corridor, she grabbed Winter’s hand without a word and tugged her toward the doctor’s office. Her heart was pummeling against the inside of her chest.

She had done it. She had done what she needed to do.

Now she had only to wait.

*   *   *

It was more than an hour before Levana heard the first stirrings within the palace. Though her nerves were throbbing the entire time since she’d left the nursery, it had already begun to feel like a dream. Just another one of her fantasies, resulting in disappointment. While Dr. Eliot checked that Winter was as healthy as any child had ever been, Levana paced around the waiting room. The doctor’s office was in the palace, a satellite office from the one she kept at the med-center on the other side of the city, so that she could be on call at the slightest sign of a cough or fever from the royal family.

Realizing that she was still holding the little book of matches, Levana checked that no one was around and dropped them into a trash bin, then wiped her hands on an upholstered chair as if the evidence might show itself in ashen traces on her fingertips.

“Doctor!”

Levana jumped, spinning toward the office’s open doorway. In the other room, Dr. Eliot’s voice went quiet, and then she appeared holding a vitals scanner in one hand. Behind her, Winter was sitting on a papered table, swinging her stockinged feet against the side.

A servant appeared, face red and panting for breath.

“Doctor! Come quick!”

“I beg your pardon, but I am with Her Highness and—”

“No—it’s the nursery! Princess Selene!” The servant’s voice pitched so high it cracked.

A chill rolled across Levana’s skin, but she managed to maintain her baffled expression.

“Whatever could be—”

“There was a fire. Please, you have to come. There’s no time to lose!”

Dr. Eliot hesitated, glancing at Levana, then back at Winter.

Gulping, Levana took a step forward. “Well, of course, you must go. If our future queen is in danger, you must see to her at once.”

It was all the prompting the doctor needed. As she scooped up a medical bag, Levana turned to the servant. “What’s happened? What about a fire?”

“We’re not sure, Your Highness. They were in the playhouse and it caught fire … we think they must have been sleeping…”

“They?”

“The princess and her nanny.” Gaze alighting on Winter, the servant suddenly started to sob. “Thank the stars Princess Winter wasn’t there too. It’s awful. Awful!”

It took only a few seconds for Levana to become annoyed with the servant’s wails.

Winter hopped down from the table and went to put on her shoes, but Levana grabbed her wrist and dragged her after the doctor. “Not now, Winter. We’ll come back for them.”

The doctor ran. Levana wanted to. Her curiosity was agony, all her fantasies accumulating in that breathless moment. But she didn’t want to carry Winter, and princesses did not run.

Future queens did not run.

She was still gripping Winter’s hand when she smelled the smoke. Heard the screams. Felt the pounding of footsteps reverberating through the floors.

A crowd had gathered by the time they arrived. Servants and guards and thaumaturges filling up the corridor.