Fairest (The Lunar Chronicles #3.5) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,20
More stern now. “I think it would be best for you to wait in the lobby, Your Highness.”
His sudden coldness made her pause, and Levana slowly shrank back a step.
Mourning. He’s in mourning.
She gulped, her dreams doused. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t mean … I can only imagine what you’re going through…”
His expression softened, but he still didn’t look at her. “I know. It’s all right. I know you’re only trying to help. But, please, Your Highness. I’d like to be alone right now.”
“Of course. I understand.” Although she didn’t, not really.
She left him anyway, because he’d asked her to, and she would do anything for him. She may not understand his sorrow, but she did understand that Evret Hayle was a good man, and Solstice had been very, very lucky.
Soon, Levana told herself. Her life was changing, and soon perhaps she could be very, very lucky too.
* * *
She dreamed of him constantly. Holding her hand in the dining hall while her sister prattled endlessly about the newest gowns she’d commissioned. Gazing at her lovingly across the throne room while the thaumaturges droned on about outdated policies that Channary would never bother to understand or improve. And every night he crawled into bed with her, wrapped her up in his muscular arms, breathed warm kisses against her neck.
A figment of him was with her when she woke up each morning.
A shadow of him followed her down every corridor.
Every time she caught sight of a guard’s uniform from the corner of her eye, her heart ricocheted and her head twisted to see if it was him—though more often than not it was only her own stupid guards following respectfully in the distance.
Three days passed and his official time of mourning ended, but she did not see him.
Then a week.
It occurred to her that he may have taken leave from the palace to deal with his wife’s death and spend time with his infant daughter, and she tried to be patient. To give him space and time. To wait until he came to her—because surely he would. Surely he missed her as much as she missed him.
She imagined him in his bed at night, all alone and dreaming about her in his arms.
She imagined him coming to her bedchambers, falling to his knees as he confessed how much he adored her, how he couldn’t live another moment without knowing the taste of her lips.
She imagined them a happy family, her and Evret and the baby girl, playing make-believe together in the palace nurseries. She daydreamed about the plump little child crawling into her lap and falling asleep in her arms. She envisioned Evret’s soft gaze upon them, knowing that his family was complete.
That they were meant to be together.
That she was the love of his life.
Another week passed, and still she had no word from him, not seen him at all. With every day, her yearning grew and grew.
Then, after an entire long day had come and gone, her fantasy came true.
A knock sounded at the door to her private chambers, and Sir Evret Hayle was announced.
Levana scampered out of the nook where she’d been watching a documentary about Luna’s early colonization, shutting down the holograph node at the same time that she called up the glamour of the pale, invisible girl.
“Evret!” she cried, her heart thumping against her sternum.
He stepped back, startled, perhaps at her exuberance or the familiarity with which she used his name. He was holding a bundle of black-and-gold fabric in his arms.
Her two personal guards stood to either side of him, lacking any expression, as notable as statues.
“Your Highness,” Evret said, bowing.
“Please, come in. It’s—I’m so happy to see you. I’ve been thinking about you. Here, I’ll call for some tea.”
His brow was tense. He did not step past her threshold. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness, but I’m to report for my return to active duty this afternoon. I only wanted to bring you this.”
She hesitated. Return to active duty? So he had been on leave. She thought it might be a relief—part of her had been worried he might be intentionally avoiding her—and yet it was also irksome to think that he needed two entire weeks to mourn his wife, to attach to his daughter.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, pushing the door open more fully. “I will ensure that your tardiness is excused. Come in, just for a minute, please. I’ve mi—I’ve been worried about you. Wondering how you were.”