Four Dead Queens

by Astrid Scholte

  I pressed my hands against my ears. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to remember. But I couldn’t block out Mackiel’s words, or the memories of my father’s terrified face, the blood and the fear.

  “But how do you force your parents, the people who have loved you, raised you and sheltered you your entire life, to give up on you?” Mackiel asked.

  Varin didn’t offer an answer.

  “You turn into the darkness,” Mackiel said. “You show them you are beyond their reach. Beyond saving.”

  No. I couldn’t breathe, nothing but dust and rubble in my lungs.

  “Keralie was steering her parents’ boat,” Mackiel continued. When would he stop? “Her father no doubt thought he’d already turned her face toward clearer skies. Then he realized they were sailing too close to the cliffs.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight, but it made it worse, bringing the images to life as Mackiel revealed my secret.

  My father grabbing for the wheel, me pushing him away and jerking the boat closer to the cliff. The sea pummeling the rocks, spraying our faces with salt. Determination thrumming through my veins, propelling me into action. My teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Thinking, I’ll destroy this boat. This stupid thing that my parents care about so much, which costs so much time and money while we still struggle year by year. They will never let it go. They will never see the truth. But I’ll show them. There are easier ways to attain wealth. I’ll destroy this boat, then we’ll all be free.

  I’d only meant to clip the cliff, damaging the boat so it couldn’t be repaired. But I didn’t know the power of the water; how could I? I’d spent all my time blocking out the lessons of the ocean my parents had tried to teach me.

  When we hit the cliff, it sounded like an explosion.

  I’d never forget my father’s expression as we were thrown from the rupturing boat. He was terrified. Of me.

  Mackiel finished recounting the story. “She wanted her parents to see she would do anything to destroy the future they saw for her—a future she desperately didn’t want. And her father was in the way of that.”

  He made it sound like I’d wanted to hurt him. But I hadn’t. I’d wanted to remove the one thing in their lives that caused uncertainty. Without it, they would see that I could help them, provide for a better life. If they would only let me.

  Instead, I’d caused more pain and heartache than I ever could’ve imagined.

  “What happened to her father?” Varin asked.

  “He’s in a coma and has weeks to live. Only HIDRA can save him now, but the palace won’t help the father of a criminal.” His voice turned icy.

  I desperately wished to see Varin’s expression. Had the story changed his opinion of me? Would he now give up my location, knowing I had purposely destroyed my family’s business and critically injured my father? Would he now abandon me and go to the palace for HIDRA alone?

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Varin’s voice sounded strained.

  “An Eonist has no business with a girl such as her.” Mackiel almost sounded soothing, understanding.

  “Tell us where she is,” the woman said, “and we’ll forget all about you.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Varin to reveal me. I wouldn’t have blamed him.

  “I told you,” Varin ground out. “She left after I recorded the chips.”

  I didn’t dare let out a breath of relief. Not yet.

  “Mackiel?” The woman sighed in frustration. “We’re wasting our time.”

  But Mackiel said, “We don’t need him to tell us where she is.”

  “We don’t?” she asked, clearly confused.

  He laughed. “As I said, I know Keralie’s moves because I taught them to her. I made her. My porcelain doll.”

  A lump lodged itself in my throat. Ash clung to my lashes, nose and mouth. I swallowed down the desperate urge to cough and sneeze.

  The woman asked, “Where is she, then?”

  Someone began moving around the room.

  “Keralie knows better than to leave her target unsupervised,” Mackiel said, his voice back to full melody. He was toying with me.

  My sweat turned icy in the small space.

  “Enough games,” the woman snapped. “Where is she, Mackiel?”

  “Before I say, I want to ensure there’s no evidence of our meeting. Messenger”—I could hear the grin in his voice—“place the empty comm case in the incinerator and turn it on.”

  My throat began to burn.

  “Messenger?” Mackiel repeated. “Did you not hear what I said?”

  Varin had two options: Reveal my hiding place or keep to his story and let me burn. A part of me wondered if he’d be happy to be rid of me, now knowing I deserved it. The other part knew that being an Eonist meant he could never injure or kill another human being.

  I slid the drawer open.

  “Hello, Mackiel,” I said. “Did you miss me?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stessa

  Queen of Ludia

  Rule nine: Each queen will be appointed one advisor from her own quadrant. They will be her only counsel.

  Come to the baths.

  A thrill ran through Stessa as she read the words on the scrap of paper, which had been left beneath her pillow, the cursive clearly Lyker’s. It had been weeks since he had left her a secret message.

  Passing notes had begun as a game at school. The rules were never leave the message in the same spot, and never allow anyone else to find it. Sometimes they failed and the notes were discovered, but they never included names, to ensure they couldn’t be incriminated. Back then, the messages had been a lifeline for Stessa. Her secret within a secret life.

  Stessa had told Lyker of her royal lineage the day she learned she would have to leave home to claim the Ludist throne. She was nine, and the thought of leaving her family had sent a flow of hot tears down her cheeks, tears that refused to stop, even when she’d sat in her seat at school. Her neighboring classmate was Lyker.

  When she loosened her plaits after school that day, a sliver of paper fell loose.

  Why are you sad? the curling script had asked.

  The next day, Lyker had found a scrunched-up piece of paper in his left shoe. How she’d managed to put it there, he never found out. But he would never forget her words.

  I’m the next Ludist queen.

  He had sought her out at school, wiping her weeping eyes with his sleeve. “Cheer up, Stess,” he’d said. “You’re still you. You’re still my best friend.” She’d cried harder then, wrapping her arms around his lanky frame.

  She told him about Queenly Law and how she would be required to leave her old life behind and never look back.

  He’d squeezed her tighter then. “I’ll come with you,” he’d said, not understanding how difficult that would be. “You can never get rid of me.”

  She had smiled, flashing the gap between her teeth.

  And in the years when their friendship had turned into love, their messages were essential.

  Stessa’s parents had warned against forming close ties, as it would only make it harder to leave. But they didn’t understand; anytime she thought of leaving her home, her friends, her family, she would break. And only Lyker knew how to put her back together with his smiles and silly jokes.

  Everyone treated her like the future queen she would one day be, but Lyker always treated her like the girl she’d always been. The girl who wanted to sit by the canals and write music. The girl who wanted to attend all the parties, her makeup perfectly applied, dressed in the fanciest of dresses. The girl who wanted to enjoy everything her quadrant had to offer. A life of color, laughter and love.

  And she wanted to share that life with Lyker. A boy who saw the world as she did: something to revel in. He was the center of any party, the teller of tales and the heart of every w
arm touch. His artwork decorated many Ludist streets; even when Stessa walked alone, she was surrounded by his presence.

  When Stessa’s birth mother, the queen of Ludia, had died, fifteen-year-old Stessa had reluctantly traveled to the palace, leaving a brokenhearted Lyker behind. She swore their separation would be temporary. She would find a way to bring him to the palace.

  In the five weeks they were parted, Stessa wrote herself letters, hiding them around the palace, pretending they were from her lost love. They made her happy, until she realized she might never see Lyker’s fluid writing again, never hear his low laugh or feel his hand in hers.

  Stessa was not a violent person. Nor was she ruthless. But she had to be ruthless, one time, if she wanted to be reunited with her love.

  She had quickly surmised it was the advisors who had the most contact with the queens, who were almost always by their sides. Her advisor, Demitrus, was an old man in his seventies and, in Stessa’s eyes, ready to retire. At his age, to fall ill would not be suspicious. She checked all the Ludist perfumes and products she’d been allowed to bring into the palace. Most were safe, simply root dyes and natural minerals. But there was one that warned against ingestion: Stessa’s hair dye. She didn’t know how much to put in his drink. To be safe, she emptied half the bottle.

  She had wanted only to make him ill; she never expected there to be piqberry in the dye, which was commonly used in acidic cleaners.

  Demitrus was sent to the Eonist Medical Facility to be monitored. Doctors thought he would pass away, and perhaps that would’ve been kinder. Instead, he spent his days coughing up blood, while his family argued their case for him to be bumped up on the waiting list for HIDRA. But there were more dire cases than his, and so they waited for next year’s dose or perhaps the year after.

  Stessa had been tormented by her guilt, unwilling to venture out of her room for days. Everyone thought she merely wept for the man who had been kind to her during her first few weeks in the palace. When the queens told her the time had come to choose a new advisor, Stessa had asked for someone closer to her age to ensure the situation with Demitrus could not be repeated. The queens had been sympathetic, especially Queen Marguerite, who had immediately taken a shine to the young queen.

  Stessa had recorded a message to be displayed on the Queenly Reports, asking for any Ludists with political aspirations to come to the palace. She knew Lyker would be watching for any sign from her. Within days, the applicants arrived for further assessment. Lyker was the first to step forward. She’d been shocked, and hadn’t recognized him at first with his signature tattoos covered by long black sleeves. He looked a shadow of himself, all color stripped away. Still, he was there. And when his gaze caught hers, his smile was blinding.

  After a week of pretending to assess the other hopefuls, Stessa declared Lyker to be the next Ludist advisor-in-training. Once he’d moved into the palace, he made up for lost time; his first letter slipped into her throne between the padded armrest and wooden frame.

  And although they spent nearly every waking moment together as advisor and queen, Lyker continued to hide messages for her, to remind her that he would always be by her side. And to remind her she was still Stessa. The girl he loved.

  After a few months, the letters had stopped, and Stessa worried Lyker was no longer interested in her, perhaps too distracted by the power of his position as advisor-in-training. When she’d asked why, the reason had been simple. He’d discovered that the palace guards checked the trash. At night, Lyker drew his words of love onto Stessa’s skin with his fingers so no one would ever find them.

  Stessa wondered why Lyker had requested her presence now. She hadn’t heard any news about the assassin; it was too soon for the palace to have been reopened.

  The baths were located on the far side of the palace, and the farthest from her rooms. It was a perfect place to meet. No one would think to look for her there, for neither Stessa nor Lyker knew how to swim in deep water. No Ludist did. Shallow canals wound through Ludia, allowing them to cool off in the mid-summer heat without being fully submerged. Water was an enemy; it flattened hair, ruined makeup, made you remove clothing and jewelry. It made you plain. And that was not the Ludist way.

  The baths were located in a cavernous room with a golden mosaic-tiled ceiling. A few small baths encircled one large pool in the middle. Each bath was lined with gilded tiles, shading the water gold. The center of the deepest pool darkened to a rich amber.

  Pretty, Stessa thought. The mosaic tiles reflecting in the water reminded Stessa of the canals and how they reflected the colorful buildings along the bank. She could see why Lyker wanted to meet here.

  The only other time Stessa had visited the baths was during her first day inside the palace. Demitrus had shown her all of the royal facilities, trying to warm her to the golden cage she would now call home. She’d barely glanced at the room back then, not caring how wonderful they claimed the palace to be. She missed her parents. She missed Lyker. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be in a world without them.

  Now Stessa studied the various glimmering pools, wondering if the other queens frequented this place. The room was warm, as though Stessa were swaddled in a thick blanket. Heat radiated up from the tiles, drawing her to the main pool’s edge. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades underneath her ruby-red dress.

  She removed her shoes and stockings and sat upon the pool’s ledge, slowly lowering her feet into the cool water. She let out a contented sigh. Once her feet were submerged, she wanted more water to wash over her. Her perspiration made her skin feel sticky and her dress tight. The outer layers of her makeup began sliding off her face like shedding skin.

  Where is he? she thought. It was unlike Lyker to be late.

  It had been difficult to sneak away with the increased security, but Stessa was used to running about the palace with the queens none the wiser. Except for Iris—she’d known her secret. And she’d kept it until her dying breath.

  One evening, Iris had grabbed a bread roll from Stessa’s plate, her appetite much larger than her petite frame. When she bit into the fluffy white bread, she was surprised to find a scrunched-up piece of paper. The instructions had told her to meet in the royal ballroom at the stroke of midnight.

  Iris had ventured to the ballroom, unsure who she’d find. When Lyker had turned at her entrance, Stessa’s name on his lips, their secret was out.

  Initially Iris had been furious with her much younger sister queen. She yelled and swore and scowled. Stessa had tried to reason with her, tell her she’d known Lyker before entering the palace and it was not merely a fling with the new advisor.

  “It is against Queenly Law,” Iris had said. “You are young; you don’t yet understand its importance. You can’t break a law whenever you like.”

  Stessa had wanted to tell Iris she wasn’t so young that she didn’t know her own heart. But she stayed quiet. Iris already thought she was impulsive and reckless. She had to prove her love for Lyker was more than a fleeting fantasy.

  “Come with me, Iris,” Stessa had said. Lyker had followed behind, remaining silent.

  Once in her rooms, Stessa had gone to her crowded dressing table.

  “Now is not the time to play with your makeup,” Iris had remarked.

  Stessa had ignored her, opening one of her makeup tins. Inside were thousands of pieces of paper. “Here,” she’d said, shaking the paper onto the floor like confetti.

  “You kept them all?” Lyker had asked. It had been dangerous bringing the letters to the palace, but Stessa had needed a piece of Lyker with her; it had made her feel less alone. And his handwriting was beautiful, poetic, like the poetry he wasn’t allowed to squander his time with inside the palace.

  Iris bent down to pick up one of the pieces. “What are they?”

  “Letters.” Stessa smiled down upon the scraps of paper, a fragmented love poem. “From Lyker. It bega
n when we were children.”

  Iris didn’t reply, her fingertips flitting over the paper as she read. Some were private moments, but Iris needed to know the truth.

  After a while, Iris had sat back on her heels. “I’m sorry, Stessa.”

  Stessa’s heart had dropped. It hadn’t worked. Iris didn’t care about her relationship with Lyker. She would turn her in to the authorities, and Lyker was sure to be banished from the palace.

  “I’m sorry this has been hard on you.” Something had burned beneath Iris’s petite features. “It’s trying to be separated from the ones we love. But why should we be kept apart? We are queens, after all.” She had taken Stessa’s hand then. “I promise not to speak of your secret.”

  Stessa had thought Iris meant her family as “the people she loved,” but at the next nightly dinner, she had watched Iris interact with Corra. While it was almost imperceptible, there had been a difference, a lightness that had colored Iris’s features and brightened her green eyes. When Iris had turned to speak with her advisor, the light had dimmed. It could’ve been mistaken for merely affection for her sister queen, but Stessa had suspected something else. For it was a look she had often seen in Lyker’s eyes. A look of love and desire.

  That night, Stessa had followed Iris back to her rooms. She needed to know. She’d wanted to believe that Iris wouldn’t tell anyone about Lyker, but out of all the queens, she’d seemed most married to Queenly Law. She didn’t have to wait long. Corra arrived around half an hour later. Stessa had been initially shocked they’d both broken Queenly Law, but this worked in her favor. She’d confronted Iris the next morning.

  Two weeks later, Iris had been murdered.

  Stessa ran a hand across her perspiring brow and scowled at the white cream coating her palm. She would have to reapply her makeup when she returned to her rooms. She swirled the water around with her fingertips and watched the cream dissolve.

  The door to the baths opened. Stessa sat upright, but didn’t turn around. Not yet.