She wiped a hand across her neck. Only when she saw blood staining her fingers did her expression shift. She spun to the assassin. Rage lit her features, flushing her cheeks nearly as red as the blood cascading down her slashed throat.
Her mouth opened, but her eyes rolled back into her head. Her arms flung wide, knocking her crown from a table beside her, as she sagged to the floor. The assassin wiped the blade clean on a nearby leaf.
Someone gasped. It was not Queen Iris or the assassin. The noise came from nowhere and everywhere at once, disconnected from the ghastly scene.
All the blood brought another memory to mind, as though it were happening today and not six months ago. My father was lying on the rocks, his head lolled back, eyes closed. Blood was everywhere. On my dress. On my hands.
“Focus,” I heard a voice say. Varin, I thought hazily. “Focus on Queen Iris.”
The image of her split neck flooded back into view. The recorder pulled the next murder from my mind.
The assassin entered a golden room; the smell of flowers tainted the air. A girl sat at the edge of a pool, the water tinted gold from the surrounding tiles. The girl dangled her legs into the water, her black hair twisted into complicated patterns, her ornate red dress billowing around her. Queen Stessa.
The assassin approached; this time their hands were empty.
All it took was a shove.
The water shifted as Queen Stessa’s body hit the surface. The assassin followed her in.
Hands pushed arms, legs kicked her body downward. The assassin climbed onto her back, sinking her to the bottom, heels hitting tiles. Dark hair swirled like water down a drain.
A perfect pink mouth opened wide, sending bubbles to the surface. The assassin watched as the queen’s eyes glazed over. Her last breath shuddered from her chest.
Then it was done. A simpler kill. Cleaner than before, but harder. Physical, and more intimate—two bodies intertwined as they dipped below the surface. Only one to reemerge.
While the assassin watched Queen Stessa sink to the bottom of the pool, another disembodied sound echoed through the cavernous room. Ragged gasps grew louder and louder. Pain—my pain. My gasps.
“It’s all right,” Varin said. “You’re fine.” Fine? How was any of this fine? “Don’t fight the recorder.” I thought I could feel the ghost of his hand on mine, but I must’ve been imagining it.
The images moved faster now, the recorder coercing them from my mind.
Good. Take them. Take them all.
The assassin was in a darkened room. A figure slept fitfully in a bed, their hand clutching something at their chest, under their golden dermasuit.
Queen Corra.
Now in a different room, the assassin flipped open a lighter. Life and light bloomed into the night. With one small flick, the little flame soared across the room, finding a home in a bunch of acrid-smelling rags. Alcohol.
Seconds later, the room was aflame.
Smoke followed, infusing the room with gray. A voice cried for help amid uncontrollable coughing.
Another voice gasped.
Varin. I wanted to follow him, pull myself out of this nightmare and into the light, but his voice was a thread I couldn’t hold on to.
Queen Corra banged her hands against a window, desperate to be free. The assassin watched from the other side of the glass, waiting for the life to drain away from her body.
Yes, the easiest kill. No blood, no fight. Only death.
The assassin walked away as the palace guards broke the glass, seconds too late.
Only one queen remained. Queen Marguerite.
In a small indistinguishable room, the assassin shook powder from a small silver vial. This would be the easiest kill yet, completely removed from the action.
But the assassin needed to watch. Make sure the poison did its work.
No—enough. I didn’t want to relive any more. But the recorder wouldn’t let my mind go. I remembered it all, and all over again. Quicker and quicker. More and more details each time, unable to detach myself from the despair.
I screamed.
The images swam together. Blood. Water. Fire. Darkness. Death. Arms. Legs. Neck. Abdomen. Knife. Hands. Fire. Poison. Merging together into a tapestry of death.
Then, nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Stessa
Queen of Ludia
Rule six: Once a queen enters the palace, she is never to visit her homeland again.
Lyker was waiting in Stessa’s rooms when she returned from her interrogation with the inspector. Stessa wasn’t stupid. She knew that was what it was. All the queens were being interrogated, under the guise of “gathering information.”
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, quickly shutting the door behind her. “The inspector could’ve been with me! You can’t be here.”
He frowned but stepped toward her. “I was worried about you. Where have you been? Are you all right?” He’d pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows to reveal the colorful lines tattooed on his fingers up toward his heart. She knew he hated wearing the long sleeves of the advisor uniform.
“It’s too dangerous with the inspector sniffing around.” But her body automatically moved toward his. She forced herself not to trace the lines up his arms as she normally would.
He curled a short black lock of hair behind her ear and grinned. “I’ll take my chances.”
“We have to be careful, now more than ever. They’re watching us. He’s watching us.” That man with his disgusting fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d briefly thought him handsome. She shivered at the idea of his dark eyes, or anything else, upon her.
Lyker took her hands in his. “Don’t stress, Stess.” He grinned at his rhyming words. “If we act weird, they’ll know we did something wrong.”
“The inspector already thinks I killed her.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m the newest queen. And you”—she pointed at his chest—“are the newest advisor. We’re easy targets. Don’t you feel them watching us?”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“I’m not. We have to stay away from each other. Just in case.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “What’s the point, then? After everything we’ve done to be together? After everything we’ve given up?”
Stessa hated that she’d pulled him from the world he loved so fiercely. A quadrant of art and color and music. But they’d agreed they would be enough for each other.
“That’s just it, Lyker. If they find out about what we’ve done, what I’ve done, I’ll lose my throne. Worse, I’ll be locked up.”
His hands were clenched at his sides, his temper rising. “But—”
“Please,” she said, running her fingertips along his arms to soothe him. “For the length of the investigation.”
“I’m worried about you. The other advisors believe Iris’s murder was an inside job. I want to stay with you until this is over.”
“You can’t. And I’m a queen, remember? I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m about to shatter. There are guards roaming the halls. I’ll be fine.” He had to realize that protecting their secret was paramount. They would be together in time. A few days would be forgotten in their lifetime together.
“This isn’t getting any easier.” He ran his hand through his coiffed hair.
“What are you talking about?”
“Us.”
She grunted. “I never said this would be easy.”
“I know, but it’s nearly been a year. I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend to care.”
Her heart stuttered, and tears swam in front of her eyes. “You don’t care about me anymore?”
He swept her hands into his. “Stess, don’t be absurd. I was talking about my position. Look at me”—he gestured to his colorful arms—“
I’m not built for court, palaces and politics. I feel like I’m losing myself.” His voice softened. “I can’t lose you too.”
“You’re not going to.” She wished she could offer Lyker a different future. She wanted to make him a priority, as he had done for her, but what choice did they have? She had no female heirs; she couldn’t renounce the throne and leave Ludia without a ruler.
Stessa had heard from her mother that if you loved someone, you should let them go, but she couldn’t face a future without Lyker.
“Be patient, please,” she said. “We’ll find a way to make this work.”
He nodded but didn’t look convinced.
She pressed her cheek against his chest, wrapped her arms around him and started humming their favorite song. The beads in her hair and around her neck tinkled as they swayed.
“As long as we’re together,” she said, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget who you are.”
“And you? Do you feel like the same girl as before?”
Stessa liked being queen; she liked ensuring the other quadrants didn’t ruin what she considered the perfect community. She liked being taken seriously. And, she had to admit, she liked the attention.
Was she the same girl she’d been in Ludia? No.
“Does it matter?” She stopped swaying and tilted her head back to see his expression.
“Not if you’re happy.”
Her mother had always told her that if she held love in her heart, everything else would fall into place. But Stessa’s love for Lyker had driven her to commit sinister deeds, things her mother would never support. Ludists weren’t supposed to be dark and devious. They were light, playful, carefree. And Lyker was the epitome of sunshine and warmth. But every day, she saw his light dim and darken, and every day another weight pressed on her shoulders.
“I’m happy when I’m with you,” she said eventually.
“What if we leave the palace before the inspector finds out about us?” His voice was hopeful. He’d never wanted her to accept the Ludist throne in the first place, suggesting they run away. It might’ve been easier. He still suggested running once a week, but this was the first time she actually considered it. It had taken a few months, but Stessa had embraced her role as queen, especially when she had Lyker by her side. She wanted to be as respected as Iris, as knowledgeable as Marguerite and as composed as Corra. With Iris’s murder, and the inspector’s unnerving presence, Stessa questioned whether this was the life she really wanted after all.
“Where would we go?” she asked. “Everyone knows my name. And my face.”
“You’re the master of disguise.” He grinned and tapped her nose, referring to the parties they had attended together dressed in elaborate clothing and makeup to fool their friends, only revealing themselves at the end of the night. “But we’d have to leave Quadara.”
Stessa knew that would hurt Lyker. He missed his family, friends and the freedom to create art wherever he went. He’d given up everything to be with her. They used to laugh and smile every hour of every day. Now all they did was lie, scheme and worry.
He watched her, waiting for a response.
She let a breath slowly escape through her teeth. “We can’t, even if we wanted to. They’ve closed the palace. No one in, no one out. Not until they find Iris’s assassin.”
“But you’re considering it?”
Stessa didn’t want to give up her throne, the power or the responsibility. But she couldn’t give up Lyker. If the inspector found out the truth, she’d be separated from him forever. She bit her lip, unsure what to do.
“I want to be happy,” he continued. “With you. We would be happier outside of the palace, I’m sure of it.”
Stessa could imagine a simpler life with Lyker. A life where he could paint words of love on the walls of their house to the tune of Stessa’s songs. She would miss the palace, but not as much as she missed her home back in Ludia. And Lyker was disappearing in front of her eyes. She had to make the choice. Her love for Lyker, or her position on the throne.
There was no choice. It was Lyker, always and forever.
“I think you’re right,” she said. “But we have to wait until they open the palace doors.”
“Then we run?” His beautiful face was lit with hope. It was all he’d ever wanted, the two of them together, no one to force them to part. No more stolen kisses and midnight rendezvous. Time would be theirs. They could start a new life.
No secrets, no laws, no murders.
“Yes.” She grinned up at him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Keralie
Keralie.
Darkness was kind. Still. Free from pain. Free from all that blood.
Keralie.
I once knew a girl called Keralie. But I was no longer that girl.
Keralie.
Her life was kind. Full of love. Full of happiness and laughter. Then she shattered it. And there was no getting it back.
“Keralie!”
My eyes flew open. Varin’s concerned face filled my vision. I was lying on a bed. Varin’s bed. His eyes were wide, his face flushed, and his hair stuck in odd directions as though he’d been pulling at it. But his hands were now on mine. He quickly retracted them when he saw I was awake.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice raw, my whole body shaking.
“You were screaming and then you passed out.” He pulled the pads from my temples. “How do you feel?”
I tentatively moved to a sitting position. “Like I murdered Quadara’s queens.”
“That’s not funny.” He frowned. “Here.” He offered me a glass of water and a food bar. His hands were shaking, and he was breathing heavily. He was in shock. I knew how it felt.
My stomach was too agitated for food, but I gladly accepted the glass.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was on the chips?” he asked while I drank. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I did warn you.” I placed the empty glass on the floor and rubbed my forehead. I wanted to crawl back into the darkness. It was too bright here. “And if I’d told you, you wouldn’t have believed me.”
Now that the memories had been untangled, they were impossible to ignore. Each and every queen, dead.
He flew off the bed and began pacing the room. “You knew this all night, and yet you said nothing. They’re our queens!” He ran a hand through his already tussled hair. “The very foundation of Quadara is at risk.”
“I needed to make sure you upheld your end of the agreement. I relive the memories, and you help me hide from Mackiel. I was keeping my end of the deal.”
He let out a racked breath. “I don’t want to deliver these chips.”
“Who are you supposed to deliver them to?”
“I don’t know. I only know I was supposed to deliver the chips yesterday morning at the border to Ludia. But before I got there, I found my bag empty.”
I gave him a sheepish grin. “Do you usually know the contents of the comm chips?” I thought back to his memory collection.
His eyes locked on mine. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why did you watch the rerecording this time?”
“When you first ingested the chips, there was this expression on your face . . .” He let out another breath. “I had to know what you’d seen.” Curiosity. Well, that was something I could relate to.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Now what? You need to deliver them, right?”
He nodded slowly, but there was uncertainty in his movements.
“You want to do something about it, don’t you?” I said with a groan. “You want to take the new comm chips to the palace authorities.”
“Don’t you?” Something flickered behind his eyes, something that seemed like drive. Passion. Emotion. Very un-Eonist.
“What can I do? These memories must be to confirm the
assassin has completed the job. The queens are dead.”
“We could still help!” He gestured at the new chips. “This is evidence!”
“We only know how the queens died, not who did it.”
“We know someone was meant to receive these chips and be notified of their deaths. That’s one person involved we know about.”
“Two,” I reminded him. “Mackiel. He wanted me to steal the comm case from you and then refused to sell it. He has to be involved.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head. “That’s not enough.”
“Why haven’t we heard anything?” Varin asked. “Why hasn’t the palace sent out a warning?”
“Perhaps they’re worried about the panic the news would cause? We’ll probably only hear once the new queens are upon their thrones. They might not even tell us the previous ones were murdered. They’ll probably say it was some kind of accident.” I leaned back into his bed; it was surprisingly comfortable. Fatigue weighed down my eyelids. A few hours’ rest. That was all I needed.
“We should go to the palace,” he said. Of course, he decided to be chatty now.
When I didn’t reply, he continued, “Information like this, powerful information, which could be used to bring this murderer to justice, will be valuable to the palace.”
I sat back up. Now he was speaking my language. “How valuable?”
“Enough to ensure you never have to work with someone like Mackiel again.”
Working for Mackiel hadn’t been just about the money, but Varin wouldn’t—couldn’t—understand that. He accepted his position in the world, while I had rebelled against mine.
“I’m a criminal,” I said with a shrug. “The palace isn’t going to give me anything, even if I do help them find the murderer.”
“Keralie.” The low intensity of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Do you want to be a criminal?”
Why did everyone assume I wasn’t exactly who I wanted to be?
“Keralie,” he said again when I didn’t reply. This time his voice was soft.
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