“You also find me beautiful, don’t you? Irresistible, even?”

“Princess—”

“Answer me.”

“I can’t.”

“Because I’m right.”

He said nothing.

Levana swallowed. “Marry me, Evret.”

His eyes snapped back toward her, horrified, but she plowed on. “Marry me and you will be a prince. She cannot touch you.”

“No. No. Solstice … and my darling Winter…”

Her heart stuttered, and she was surprised at how quickly her jealousy returned, how much it hurt. “Winter? Who’s Winter?”

He laughed without humor, pulling both hands down his face. “She’s my daughter. You believe that you love me and yet you haven’t even asked what I named my one-month-old child? Don’t you see how insane that is?”

She gulped. Winter. Solstice. Though they did not have seasons on Luna, she knew enough of the Earthen calendar to be familiar with how the words fit together. She remembered, too, the little baby blanket, embroidered with a snowy scene.

He meant to never forget his wife. Not for as long as he lived.

“Winter,” she said, wetting her lips. “Your daughter will be a princess, with all the riches and privileges afforded to a girl of her station. Don’t you want that for her?”

“I want her to be surrounded by love and respect. Not … not whatever games the people in that ballroom come up with to entertain themselves. Not whatever it is you’re trying to do to me.”

Clenching her fists, Levana strode forward so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Winter will have a mother, and you will have a wife. And I will love you both better than she ever could have.”

Shaking with fury and determination, Levana marched around him, back toward the palace. It took him a long time, but upon realizing that the princess could not be left unprotected, he followed.

*   *   *

The resistance started to leave Evret after that, and Levana hoped he was beginning to forget his wife. Or—not forget her—but forget that she was a different woman altogether. His eyes frequently took on a hollow stare when he was in her presence, and when other members of the court were nearby, he was as unreadable as some extinct first-era alphabet. He gave away nothing. He could have been a stranger.

Which she knew was wise of him. He’d been right before. If her sister wanted to accuse him of taking advantage of the princess, it would be in her right to do so. Levana wasn’t worried about it, though. Channary had her own romantic conquests to worry about and, besides, she had been making eyes at older men since she was even younger than Levana was now.

No, she was not worried.

Especially in those moments when they were finally alone. Those borrowed spaces of time when he was hers, entirely hers. She began to loosen her mental grip of him, little by little, and to her relief and her joy, his response to her only became braver. His hands more possessive. His caresses more daring.

The first night they spent together, he whispered a single word into her hair.

“Sol…”

Simultaneously filled with pain and pleasure, joy and rage, Levana had grit her teeth and held him closer.

When the dome brightened over the white city the following morning, Levana let him sleep until the servant entered to bring her breakfast. Mortified and distraught, Evret lay in bed, frozen, while Levana ordered the servant to cut and butter her rolls. Slice her fruit. Prepare the tea that she had no intention of drinking.

When the servant had gone, Evret scrambled from the sheets. She saw the moment when he took in the spots of blood on the white cotton. How quickly he turned away. How hastily he pulled on his clothes, muttering curses beneath his breath.

Sitting up against her feathered pillows, the tray settled across her lap, Levana dropped a berry onto her tongue. It was sour. Channary would have called for the servant to take it back, and the thought crossed her mind, but she buried it. She was not her sister.

“Not this,” Evret said, without facing her. “I didn’t think you would push it this far. I didn’t think—” He fisted a hand into his hair, cursing again. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

She bristled, annoyed, but tried to play it off as a joke. “For leaving before breakfast?” Levana cooed. “I will have another tray sent for, if you’re hungry.”

“No. My daughter … she’ll have been with the nanny all night. I hadn’t planned on…”

Levana glared at his muscled back as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“I will pay for the nanny’s additional time. Stay, Evret.” She smoothed the blankets beside her.

He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes, shaking his head. Then, hesitating, he dropped the first shoe back to the floor. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Levana grinned as she sucked the berry juice left on her finger, and was preparing to scoot over, to make room for him against the headboard, when he started to speak, his voice thick with misery.

“I tried to leave. A week ago.”

Levana hesitated, pulling her finger out of her mouth. “Leave?”

“We were packed and everything. I was going to take Winter to one of the lumber sectors, learn a new trade.”

She squinted at the back of his head. “A new trade doing what? Toppling trees?”

“Maybe. Or at a lumber mill, or even making wood moldings, I don’t know. I just wanted to be anywhere but here.”