Prologue

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i.

"Well?"

Dr. Eliot took a breath. "You should be fine now, My Queen. We've cleared your lungs."

Queen Channary slumped back into her pillows. She looked as exhausted as the doctor had ever seen her. Out of habit, Eliot averted her eyes, knowing that she would be snapped at for staring.

The fact was, Channary was not just weak, and she was not confined to her bed out of someone's overzealous concern – she had brushed against death. Only the surgeons' hasty operation had saved her life. Dr. Eliot was aware of how easily she could have let Channary die – she could have believably claimed that it was too late, that nothing could be done. No one would have mourned. The little Princess Selene wouldn't even remember her mother, let alone grieve.

But there was no point in entertaining such thoughts. Though Eliot knew anyone would be better on the throne than this woman, Channary's death would lead them nowhere.

"Regolith poisoning," the woman in question scoffed. Her voice was thin and weak, but she managed a disdainful sneer. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous. There's hardly any regolith dust in Artemisia."

"You may have contracted it outside the capital, My Queen," Eliot said delicately. "In the outer sectors – especially near the regolith caves – inhaling the dust is inevitable."

Channary shot her a look that would have made a flower wither. The doctor, taking the hint, let the subject drop. "You'll still have a bit of a cough," she went on, gathering her analysis papers from the desk she'd set up in the queen's quarters, "but it's just muscle memory. Your body is used to constant coughing. I would recommend putting off all tours of Luna" – as if – "until you've recovered."

Even as she spoke, the queen waved a dismissive hand. Any warnings would go through one ear and out the other, never mind that Eliot had been the royal family's personal doctor for more than forty years.

"Where is Selene?" Without waiting for an answer, Channary leaned back and closed her eyes. "Bring her to me. I haven't seen her since I was confined to this blasted room."

Dr. Eliot hesitated, unwilling to incur the queen's wrath of impatience. "Before that, My Queen ... you have a visitor waiting just outside."

"The visitor can hang themselves," Channary said serenely. "I will not see anyone until Selene is here."

"My Queen, the visitor is –"

"Have I not made myself clear?" She opened her eyes to threatening slits. "You think that because you're the royal doctor, I'll put your priorities first? You're not exempt to obeying orders."

One had to marvel at the force of the queen's words. Channary was capricious at best, but sickness had made her especially short-tempered. Dr. Eliot probably hadn't been punished yet because she was, indeed, a very important person to the royal family, but it was just a matter of time.

But this visitor wouldn't wait for one of Channary's rare benevolent moods.

"Of course, My Queen. I will send for Selene immediately." One hand already on the doorknob, Eliot added as if in afterthought, "I only meant to inform you that the visitor is Princess Levana. She wishes to have a word with you."

And just like that, Channary relaxed. "Ah," she said, "my little sister. Do bring her in."

ii.

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