Stessa nodded, although it hadn’t been a question. “I didn’t know how badly he’d be hurt. I wanted him to fall ill and leave. That’s all.”
That’s all.
“He never recovered,” Corra said with a heavy sigh. “He is still unable to leave his bed.” The old advisor had been a kindly man, a Ludist who’d tired of the partying scene and his quadrant’s focus on appearance. He wanted to give more to his nation. And Stessa had gotten rid of him. “How could you?”
Before Stessa could reply, Corra blurted out, “Did you kill Iris?” Seeing Stessa in the arms of Lyker and hearing the truth about Demitrus, she was certain she’d uncovered the truth. “You wanted her gone. You can’t deny it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lyker said.
Corra’s eyes flashed to him. She’d almost forgotten he was there, but Stessa spoke up. “Don’t speak to Queen Corra like that.”
A small part of Corra softened at Stessa’s defense. But that was all it was. Defense.
Did Iris also know about Demitrus? Had Stessa killed her to defend this secret?
“I did not kill Iris.” Stessa’s expression shifted. “And I didn’t mean to make Demitrus that unwell.”
“You hated Iris,” Corra said. “And she knew your secret, didn’t she?”
Stessa had always made it clear she wasn’t a fan of Iris’s. It doesn’t make her guilty, though, Corra thought. And she had no evidence. Even though there was motive, it didn’t mean she had anything to present to the inspector. After all, he’d said a trained hand had sliced Iris’s throat. Poisoning Demitrus was careless; an act of passion, the inspector would deem it. Stessa was no trained assassin, nor was Lyker. Unless they had managed to fool everyone about that too.
It was possible, she supposed.
Stessa squared her shoulders, Lyker standing strong behind her. “I know your secret. Would you kill me for it?”
Corra’s breath stuttered. But which secret? Her hand fell from the watch around her neck.
A wicked smile played at Stessa’s lips. “Tell anyone about me and Lyker, and I’ll be forced to spill your secrets too.”
“This isn’t a game!” Corra said. Everything was pliable to the Ludists; of course a Ludist would not abide by the law, even Queenly Law. Stessa was too young to put her frivolous background behind her and value the throne as required.
“No, it’s not.” Stessa’s eyes watched her coolly. “But you broke Queenly Law first.”
A shudder took hold of Corra’s body. No. Stessa couldn’t know. Couldn’t know Corra had grown up inside the palace. That she felt and grieved. She’d be ruined. Deposed. And worse, her mother’s legacy would be tainted.
“You loved Iris,” Stessa said, eyebrow raised.
Corra struggled not to let her relief show. It was better she knew that secret than the other, more devastating one.
“In your way,” Stessa continued, “as much as any Eonist can really love anyone.” She looked back to Lyker. A meaningful exchange passed between them while they entwined their fingers together.
Corra bit the inside of her mouth. Fine. Let her think that.
Not of Eonist heart.
“What proof do you have?” Corra asked. “It’s my word against yours.”
“We don’t need proof,” she said. “You are all the proof we need.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You record your memories onto chips each evening, do you not?” Stessa tilted her head. “I’d wager Iris appears in many of these recordings.” She grinned, knowing she had Corra trapped.
Even with Iris dead, the revelation of their relationship would still spell the end of Corra’s reign. Aside from romantic relationships being forbidden, having close ties to another quadrant was unforgivable. Even though her relationship with Iris had always been separate from their thrones. Who would believe that now that Iris wasn’t here to support her claims?
She was alone in this.
“What do you want?” Corra hated how defeated she sounded. She’d come here to uncover Iris’s killer, but now she was at the mercy of this girl queen and her boy advisor. The girl who’d almost taken Demitrus’s life to have her boyfriend by her side. Such recklessness.
Stessa looked to Lyker once more, and though she was furious, Corra felt a twinge deep inside, knowing she would never again exchange such a look with another person. They loved each other; it was clear in their every movement.
“Don’t tell our secret,” Lyker said for Stessa, a smirk upon his lips. “And we won’t tell yours.” Anger burned within Corra. How dare Stessa let Lyker speak for her!
Who was really in control of Ludia?
But she couldn’t risk her throne to out the girl and her advisor. She had to protect her mother’s legacy.
Corra shuddered, hating herself for what she was about to do. She glanced at the golden dome above, hoping Iris wasn’t looking down upon her at this very moment. She’d failed her, time and time again.
“Fine,” Corra said. “I won’t say a word to the inspector, or anyone, about you and Lyker and what you’ve done. But this must end, understand? Lyker must step down from his position and return to Ludia.”
Lyker shook his head. “No.”
This time, Stessa didn’t reprimand his tone. “Never,” she agreed. She wrapped her free arm around Lyker. “Nothing can tear us apart.”
“It’s forbidden.” Corra managed to keep her voice even.
“At least we’re from the same quadrant,” Stessa said. “We have the same goals. Unlike you and Iris.”
Corra wasn’t really from anywhere. The palace was an in-between place, and without Iris, no one understood her. Sometimes Corra wondered if she even knew herself. All she knew was that when she was with Iris, she was happy. And it was not an emotion she wanted to quash.
It hurt to look at Stessa and Lyker. She couldn’t be in a room with them any longer.
Before Corra left, she said, “Continue this relationship, and someone else will find out. First Iris—”
“Now you.” There was a sinister gleam in Stessa’s eye. “Don’t forget what happens to those who uncover the truth.”
Corra slammed the door behind her, her body shaking. Stessa and Lyker might not be Iris’s killers, but they were just as dangerous.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Keralie
The insides of the incinerator pulsed in my periphery, as though it were alive. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t think of anything but the walls pressing in, my lungs responding in kind. Fear skittered across my skin; a cold sweat trembled my shoulders. Soon my whole dress was damp and clingy.
No way out. No way out.
And Varin wouldn’t stop pacing the room, his footsteps tapping in time with my increasing heartbeat. I peered through a small vent in the door, but I couldn’t make out more than a dark smudge.
“Quit it,” I whispered through the vent. “I can feel your nerves from in here. You need to act normal.”
“Normal?” he whispered back. “We’re about to meet with the person who may have orchestrated the assassination of the queens, and I may have the only evidence to convict them. And you’re in an incinerator. How can I act normal?”
The feeling of being trapped felt too familiar. The size, the darkness . . . it haunted my dreams. Bile rose in the back of my throat as memories of the cave rolled over me. The smell of salty blood and sea spray. The clammy air, my lungs dragging as I wept. My father helpless in my arms.
My hands began to tremble, rumbling the metal door.
“Keralie?” he asked. “Are you all right in there?”
“That almost sounded like concern,” I replied, my breaths coming in short gasps. I pressed my fingers into the vent to feel the air and remind myself of the world outside. A world I would soon return to. “Just focus on your inner Eonist, and
you’ll turn back into a robot.”
I wished I could turn off my emotions. My memories.
The sound of the door opening silenced Varin’s reply.
“Good morning,” Varin said to whoever entered.
I bit my lip, listening for anything that could help us. Anything else we could take to the palace.
Focus, Keralie. Focus. Don’t think about the silver coffin you’ve climbed into.
“Take a seat, messenger,” said a voice. Female. Clearly angry. Definitely not Eonist.
“Yes, ma’am,” Varin replied.
Two chairs scraped against the tiled floor as they took their seats.
Only one woman? Surprising. I’d expected a whole enclave to be guarding the comm case and the secrets it held. Although . . . Two against one . . . I preferred those odds.
“Apologies for the delay. There was a mix-up with the delivery.” Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady.
“You have my comm case?”
“Of course. Here.” I heard the comm case slide along the metal table. I wished I could see what was happening.
The case clicked open, and I held my breath. This could all be over quickly. And I had no doubt this woman would be armed. This was a secret worth killing for. Hot fingers plucked at my chest like a Ludist musician on guitar strings. Perhaps this plan was madness, after all.
“Four chips,” the woman commented. One for each queen. “How interesting . . .”
Silence. Come on, Varin. Do something! Be brave. Be something! Varin couldn’t let this moment slip by, could he? This was his plan, after all.
“Is everything all right?” Varin asked, finally. You can do it. Be brave. “If you tell me more about your source, I’ll check with my employer. But everything should be correct.”
“More about my source?” the woman repeated.
“Yes. The person who sent you this message. If it’s not what you were expecting?”
“It is,” the woman said. “But you are not.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why are you asking questions about my chips?” the woman asked. “You’re not paid to think. You’re paid to deliver. Why do you care what’s on them?”
Shit.
The room was hushed, as if submerged in water. It was far too hot in the incinerator. Sweat pooled between my hunched shoulders. Had the woman turned the incinerator on?
“I don’t,” Varin said, but nerves were playing games with his voice.
“Eonists don’t lie,” the woman said, her voice turning steely. “And yet you’re clearly lying to me now.”
“No.” Varin sounded too defensive. “I mean, I’m a little curious, but—”
She laughed. “Curious?” The way she said the word, I knew she was all too familiar with the concept. Which meant she was Torian. I hoped for all our sakes that she didn’t know Mackiel.
The door opened, and I let out a breath, thinking the woman had left. Although we hadn’t learned much, at least Varin had a good look at her. Hopefully that would be enough to go to the palace authorities with. I made to open the incinerator when another voice interrupted. A melodic voice. One I knew all too well.
“Need some help in here?” the voice asked.
Shit. Mountains of horse shit.
“Mackiel.” The woman sounded surprised to see him. “I told you I would handle this.” Mackiel was high on the Torian queen’s wanted list. It was dangerous for him to be this close to the palace.
“But I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun,” he said. He sounded calm, in control, like he always did.
What could he possibly have to do with the assassination of the queens? Had he been the one to organize the assassination? Then why had he asked me to steal Varin’s comm case in the first place? I knew he hated Queen Marguerite for what she was planning to do to the Jetée, but why kill the other queens? Was it because they’d denied him access to HIDRA to save his parents?
“Hello, messenger,” he said. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again.” He didn’t sound surprised to find Varin.
I shuddered inside the incinerator. I had to stay quiet. Absolutely silent. I couldn’t save Varin, but I could still save myself.
“Hello, Mackiel,” Varin said softly. I wondered what flittered through his mind. Did he fear for his life? Or was fear an emotion also stamped out? How could his voice remain impassive?
“Where’s Keralie?” Mackiel asked.
“Who is—” Varin began.
“Don’t play dumb,” Mackiel replied. “You’re cute enough for it, but you’re an Eonist, and Eonists are not dumb.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Varin replied. It sounded believable to me, but Mackiel was not easily fooled.
“She’s not here,” the woman said. “But the boy knows something.”
“Keralie told you what she saw?” Mackiel asked. He sounded unconvinced.
“No, she wouldn’t tell me,” Varin replied.
“Ah!” Mackiel said. “Now, that reeks of my sweet Kera.”
“But he was asking about the chips,” the woman said, sounding confused. “He knows.”
“Yes,” Mackiel agreed. “He must have rerecorded them from Keralie’s memory, didn’t you?” I knew the expression he’d have—the expression I saw every day, pulling the truth from those who didn’t want to give it. And there’d be that smile, that charming smile, which assured you everything would be okay if you followed him. Told him the truth. Trusted him.
Don’t tell him, Varin, I begged. Nothing good came from telling Mackiel the truth. He’ll use it against you.
“Yes,” Varin said. A part of my chest collapsed. Why couldn’t he be stronger? “I rerecorded them from her memory. Therefore, the chips are as they once were. The transaction is now complete.”
“Hmm,” Mackiel said. I could hear his rings clack together as he entwined his fingers. “Silly pretty Eonist. You think if you’re polite and helpful that all will be forgiven. That’s how your world works, isn’t it?” I could imagine Mackiel’s grin widening with each word. He’d be enjoying this. Twisting the truth was his favorite game. “But you’re not dealing with Eonists. You’re dealing with a Torian. You’re dealing with me.”
“I don’t understand,” Varin said.
“You’ve set me behind schedule,” Mackiel replied. “And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Varin’s voice wavered when he said, “I don’t have anything else to give you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I—I . . .” Varin stuttered.
“How about we make a new deal,” Mackiel said. “Tell me where Keralie is, and I won’t kill you.”
I held a trembling hand over my mouth to slow my panicked breathing. Darkness crept in from the sides, threatening to swamp my sight.
I hoped Varin remembered what I’d said about Mackiel. He couldn’t best him. Varin was dead, whether he gave away my location or not.
“I told you I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he said, his fingers tapping on the table. “So, before I lose my temper, which is never pretty, tell me where Keralie is.”
“I don’t know,” Varin said. “I recorded the memories, and she took off. She didn’t want anything more to do with me. Or you.” It sounded like something I would do.
But Mackiel knew me too well. “What did you give her in return?” he asked.
Damn it. Damn him! He’d created me and knew exactly how to destroy me. Stupid, stupid. Mackiel was a child of greed and deception; how could I expect loyalty from someone bred from such darkness?
Varin’s voice broke when he replied, “What do you mean?”
Mackiel laughed and I could picture him putting his hands behind his head and his feet on the chair next to him. The image of control.
“What. Did.
You. Give. Her. In. Return,” he replied, drawing each word out. “Keralie does nothing without gain. She’s always been that way, ever since I met her. So what was it?”
Varin didn’t reply.
Mackiel took a deep breath. “I know more about my dippers than they know about themselves. And I know more about Keralie than any of the others. When I met Keralie, she was a scraggly girl of only ten. You wouldn’t have looked at her twice. But now? She’s a shining star. The moon on a clear night. The sun on a summer’s day. You can’t not look at her. And even an Eonist has to see that. Aside from her face, her beauty, there’s one thing that makes the girl who she is. It’s her family.” He laughed. “Oh, I’d like to take credit for it all, but there’s no denying we’re all a product of our upbringing. No one more than Keralie. Perhaps you wouldn’t defend her if you knew the truth?”
I wanted Varin to tell him to shut up, but he said nothing. Coward.
“Keralie is the spitting image of her father,” Mackiel continued. “Of course she doesn’t see that, but everyone else does—or did. They’re both incredibly stubborn.” His voice hardened. “Did she tell you what happened to him?”
No. I bit the inside of my lip. Don’t tell him. Stop!
The walls of the incinerator shimmered. My head grew feverishly hot. Black spots filled my vision. I was moments from passing out.
“No,” Varin said. “She said she had a happy childhood.”
“Had?” Mackiel asked. “Yes. Until she ruined everything.” He paused for dramatic effect. Bastard. He was enjoying this performance. “Keralie is like her father: intelligent, determined, ambitious. But she never wanted to follow in the family business. While the sea called to her father, the Jetée calls to Keralie.” I could hear the grin lining his voice. “But her father refused to give up, making her join him on his journeys to Archia, hoping she would warm to the ways of the ocean. One afternoon, while upon the water, Keralie decided to force her father to give up on her and allow her to be who she wanted to be.”
What do you want to do, Keralie? Who you do you want to be?
Four Dead Queens Page 16