Fairest: The Lunar Chronicles: Levana's Story by Marissa Meyer Page A

to see if he would even come. And now it was happening. This was her wedding day. She was marrying Evret Hayle.
    She didn’t know if her body could contain the joy throbbing inside it as she took the second wedding band from Evret and went to slide it onto his finger.
    She paused.
    Another band was already there, nearly identical, and so dark it almost vanished into his skin.
    She looked up. Evret’s jaw was set.
    “I will not take it off,” he whispered, before she could gather her thoughts, “but I will wear both.”
    She looked at the ring again. Considered, for half a moment, forcing him to take off his old wedding band anyway. But no—this was what he wanted. She would not take it from him.
    “Of course,” she whispered back, pushing the band onto his finger until she heard the quiet click of the two pieces of carved rock colliding.
    “With this ring, I take you, Sir Evret Hayle of Luna, to be my husband. From this day forward, you will be my sun at dawn and my stars at night, and I vow to love and cherish you for all our days.”
    As the officiant confirmed the ceremony, baby Winter began to cry in earnest. Looking back, Levana saw that the toddler boy was hanging off the nanny’s arms, trying to peer into the baby’s swaddle.
    Evret wrapped his hands around Levana’s, regaining her attention. The kiss was a surprise. She hadn’t heard the officiant order it. But it was a gentle kiss, perhaps the most gentle he’d ever given her, and it warmed her to her toes.
    With that, the officiant untied the knotted ribbons, and Evret was hers.
    *   *   *
    “Tell me it isn’t true!” Channary yelled, stomping into Levana’s dressing quarters the next day. Wearing little more than shredded ribbons that barely covered what a woman should have covered, Channary looked like an effervescent spirit beneath the glow of the chandeliers. A risqu é effervescent spirit.
    Levana dared not move as her seamstress whipped her needle and thread over the seam at Levana’s waist, taking it in. She had made a comment about how Levana must not be eating well, how she needed to plump up a little to keep a good figure, like her older sister, and Levana forced her to hold her tongue after that. The seamstress flushed with embarrassment and returned silently to her work. It had since been a very long two hours.
    She glanced at her fuming sister.
    “Tell you what isn’t true?”
    “You idiot. Did you marry him?”
    “Yes. As I told you I would.”
    Channary made a furious noise in the back of her throat. “Then you will have it annulled, and quickly, before the whole city finds out.”
    “I will not.”
    “Then I will have him executed.”
    Levana snarled. “No, you won’t. Why do you even care? I love him. I chose him. It’s done.”
    “So love him. Bed him if you like, but we do not marry guards. ” Channary gestured toward the wall—beyond it, the white city of Artemisia. “Do you know how many of the families I have promised your hand to, and Father before that? There are strategies in place. We need their support. We want them to feel invested in us as rulers, and for that we need to make alliances. That’s how it works, Levana. That is your only role as a part of this family, and I will not have you ruining it.”
    “It’s too late. I won’t change it, and even if you did kill him, I would never marry to please you. I would rather die.”
    “That, too, can be arranged, baby sister.”

The seamstress spooled out some more thread, kneeling by Levana’s ankles. The woman wisely kept her eyes diverted and pretended not to be listening.
    “Then you would have nothing to bargain with, so why bother?” Lifting her head, Levana forced a smile. “Besides, I have brought you a replacement princess to be wed off to whoever it pleases you. You’ll just have to wait another sixteen years.”
    “Another princess?” Channary guffawed. “You mean that child? The baby of a guard and a seamstress? You think any one