Evret offered to work, guarding the queen’s casket as it was carried through the streets on its way to be buried in a crater outside of the domes. Levana asked him not to. She’d hoped he would agree to stand by her side. To be her husband. But it didn’t work. To him, duty came first.

The little boy who belonged to Sir Clay was there too, almost four years old now and pale blond as ever. He tried to teach the wobbly-footed girls how to play hide-and-seek among the pews, but they were still too young to understand.

Levana pretended to cry. She was assigned the role of queen regent until her niece’s thirteenth birthday, at which time Selene would take her throne.

Twelve years.

Levana would be queen for twelve years.

She tried very, very hard not to smile until the funeral was over.

*   *   *

“Head Thaumaturge Haddon is retiring at the end of this month,” said Venerable Annotel, keeping pace beside Levana as they made their way to the court meeting. “Have you considered who you might nominate for his replacement?”

“I’ve been thinking I would recommend Sybil Mira.”

Annotel glanced sideways at her. “An interesting choice. Awfully young … The families thought you might be thinking of Thaumaturge Par—”

“Sybil has thus far excelled at the responsibilities given to her regarding gathering shell children.”

“Oh, no doubt. She is very capable. But her inexperience—”

“And I believe that she earned a second-tier rank at only nineteen years old. The youngest in history. Isn’t that true?”

“I … am not honestly sure.”

“Well. I appreciate her ambition. She is motivated, and I like that. She reminds me of myself.”

Annotel pursed his lips. He would be stuck now that Levana had made the comparison. “I am sure she is a wise choice,” he said. “If this is your final decision, I think the families will approve.”

“We will see. I have a month still to consider.” She smiled, but then she spotted Evret down the hall. He was one of the guards waiting outside the conference room. Seeing him, she felt herself deflate. No matter how confident she became in her role of queen regent, every time her eyes fell on her husband, she felt like that same love-struck sixteen-year-old girl all over again.

She hoped to pass a smile his way, but Evret did not look at her as he and his comrade pulled open the doors.

Wetting her lips, Levana stepped inside.

As the doors shut, the family representatives stood. Levana approached the dais where the throne stood.

The queen’s throne.

This room was among her favorites in the palace, and her appreciation for it had increased drastically the moment she’d first taken her seat in that magnificent chair. The room glinted and shimmered, all glass and white stone. From her position, she could see all of the members of the court seated around the intricately tiled floor, and directly opposite her was the magnificent view of Lake Artemisia and the white city.

Sitting there, Levana truly felt like the ruler of Luna.

“Be seated.”

Chairs were still shuffling as she straightened her spine and gestured leisurely at Head Thaumaturge Haddon. “You may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I am pleased to report that your experiment regarding strict work hours in the outer sectors is going well.”

“Oh?” Levana was not surprised, but she pretended that she was. She had read a study from Earth a few months ago about how efficiency and productivity dropped without regularly scheduled breaks. She suggested that they program chimes to sound at regular intervals in the manufacturing domes, to remind workers when to take mandatory breaks, and then extend the workday to cover that lost time. The court had not been sold on the strategy at first, worried that it would be too difficult to enforce such a drastic increase in the workday, and that there were already complaints of the people being overworked in the outer sectors. But Levana insisted that, with this new schedule, the days would in fact go faster, and the solution would benefit everyone, the workers most of all.

“Productivity is up eight percent in the three sectors where we implemented the change,” Haddon continued, “with no apparent loss of quality.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

Haddon read through the reports, feeding her the numbers on the successful increase of trade between sectors, and telling her how delighted the Artemisian families were with the new artisanal delights Levana had commissioned for their city. What’s more, the research teams were making good progress with both the genetically engineered army and the biochemical disease, and reported that it might be ready to unleash on Earth within the next eighteen months.

No one came out and said it, but Levana could tell that the court was pleased with how she had stepped up to fill her sister’s role, and far outdone the example that Channary, and even their parents, had set. She was the queen Luna had been waiting for, and since she had taken power, the city was thriving, the outer sectors were flourishing, everything was exactly as Levana knew it should be.

“We are planning to roll out the labor program throughout the rest of the general manufacturing sectors in the coming months,” Haddon continued. “I will give regular updates as we progress. That said, I’m afraid we have noticed some … potential drawbacks.”

Levana listed her head to one side. “And those would be?”

“With such frequent breaks during the workdays, the civilians are given more chances for socializing, and we’ve noticed that these interactions are continuing even after the workday has ended.”