Four Dead Queens

by Astrid Scholte

  But he wasn’t the only person moving.

  A figure darted through the crowd without touching anyone, like a fish in a stream, moving between invisible currents, or a shadow between gas lamps, light never touching them.

  Mackiel hit the floor, the figure atop his back.

  “Don’t you dare run!” Keralie cried, pushing him farther into the ground.

  The boy reminded Marguerite of a spider, all long limbs, squished to the earth.

  The palace guards surrounded the two young Torians, extracting Keralie with some force.

  “Curse you, Keralie!” he spat at her. “Why couldn’t you just do what I wanted?”

  Keralie kicked high; her foot collided with Mackiel’s nose. He fell back into the arms of the guards, blood gushing from his face.

  “Get rid of him,” she said, before turning away, her shoulders trembling. “Don’t let his blood sully this place.”

  Marguerite rushed down the aisle toward the girl. “It’s all right,” she said once she was beside her. Keralie slumped against a chair, her face flushed and wild. “It will be all right.”

  Keralie gaped at her. “I thought I killed you . . . I killed the other—”

  Marguerite placed a hand on the frightened girl’s arm. “You did no such thing. You must accept your part in this and understand it as no fault of your own.”

  She was staring at Marguerite’s hand as if she were seeing a ghost. The poor girl. What had she been through?

  “I don’t know that I can,” she replied, her eyes wet.

  “You must,” Marguerite said. “For life is not to be wasted. You must be strong.”

  “Yes, my queen,” she said, but did not meet her gaze.

  “Are you alone here?” Marguerite asked.

  “No,” said another voice. “She’s with me.”

  Marguerite turned to see an Eonist boy a little older than her daughter. He carried himself much in the same way as Corra had, his posture stiff and face blank. A pang struck deep within for her sister queen—a hole in her heart, never to be filled.

  “And you are?” she asked the boy with the strange eyes.

  “Varin,” he said. He pulled Keralie to her feet and placed his shoulder underneath hers to prop her upright. “My queen,” he added.

  Marguerite smiled at his formalities. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ll need each other in this trying time.”

  The Torian girl glanced at Varin briefly, before nodding to Marguerite. “But, Queen Marguerite, what I did to the other queens—”

  “Enough.” Marguerite cut her off with a wave of her hand. “You will not live the rest of your life thinking of what happened here. You will leave and forget this place.” The girl looked as though she were about to quarrel. “That is my order, as your queen.”

  Keralie studied her for a moment, before a smile took over her face, seemingly brightening from within. She was beautiful and full of life.

  “I think that’s one order I wouldn’t mind obeying,” Keralie said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Keralie

  I had to see him. One last time. Then I’d be free.

  I’d been forced to spend the last two days resting in the infirmary, ensuring I did not go into shock after discovering I’d killed the queens, according to the palace doctor. The dark circles that lingered beneath my eyes had started to fade as I tried to put the ghosts of this place behind me.

  “Hello, darlin’,” said Mackiel as I descended the prison stairs. He was sitting on the floor of his cell, his skinny legs stretched out, ankles crossed. He didn’t look like the boy I’d known all these years; he’d been stripped of his fine—stolen—clothes and jewelry and was dressed in loose-fitting pants and a too-large shirt. Dirt was smudged on his pale cheeks like rouge, his black hair was lank from days without washing, and the kohl around his eyes had been rubbed free—from crying?

  He looked tiny, insignificant. Powerless.

  While I’d been in the infirmary, both Mackiel and Arebella had been sentenced to life in prison. Mackiel would get his wish to remain within the palace after all.

  “Mackiel.” I stepped up to his cell, though not too close—I wouldn’t make the same mistake he’d made when he’d come to visit.

  “Here to rescue me?” He winked.

  “Not in this lifetime or the next,” I said.

  “Who’s that?” Arebella asked, her face peering through the bars in the cell next to Mackiel’s. Her golden dress was gone, replaced with rags similar to the ones I’d been wearing only three days earlier. When she saw it was me, she scowled. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “I’ve come to say good-bye,” I said to them both, tilting an imaginary hat.

  “Kera, darlin’—” he started, but I cut him off.

  “I don’t need to listen to anything more you have to say. I came here for you to listen to me.”

  “Oh?” he asked. “And what does my Kera have to say?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Arebella let out a wild laugh. “Out of all the things I imagined you’d say, it was never thank you. Last night, I imagined the inspector visited, then you and . . . my mother—” Her voice broke. “Why hasn’t she come to visit yet?”

  “Because you tried to have her killed!” Mackiel spat toward the wall separating their cells.

  I wasn’t surprised Queen Marguerite hadn’t visited her devious daughter. I doubted she could look her in the eye. Perhaps she never would.

  “I thought she would let me explain,” Arebella said with a sigh. “I could make her understand.” She drew circles in the dirt on the stone floor. “Explain why I had to do what I did. For the throne. For the nation. It was the only way. But she won’t even hear me out! I’ve already imagined exactly what I’ll say and how she’ll—”

  “Shut up!” Mackiel screeched at her, pounding his fist on the wall. “No one cares about your stupid imaginings. Just shut up!”

  Arebella flinched, tears pooling in her eyes.

  “Lovers’ quarrel?” I asked.

  He glared. Clearly, he had no affection toward her. And although I shouldn’t, I felt sorry for the girl. Mackiel had used me too.

  “Hurry up, Kera,” he said. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  A vein in my neck throbbed, but I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. “I wanted to say thank you,” I repeated. “For you did make me who I am, and while many might see a wild and wicked girl, I am strong. I am resourceful. And because of that, I will survive what you did to me. And much more.”

  Mackiel opened his mouth, but I continued, “I am not your victim. I am not your friend. I am not your family. I am not your anything. And I thank you, because without your deadly scheme”—I locked eyes with Arebella—“I might have never left your employ. I might have never found myself—the person I want to be.”

  But he didn’t deserve to know who that was. The only person I owed that truth to was me. And my family.

  “Now I’m leaving you, and I’ll never look back. But you’ll always remember me”—I gave him my sweetest smile—“that I am sure of.”

  I bowed deeply. “And that is all.”

  Before he could reply, I darted up the prison stairs.

  I turned at the top, smiled, then said, “Get in quick. Get out quicker. Right, Mackiel?”

  With that, I left him behind.

  * * *

  —

  BACK IN COURT, the true Torian queen sat upon her throne. She wore a deep red velvet dress with three black armbands to recognize her lost sisters. Her crown had rightfully been returned, the black veil pushed back over her long hair. The remaining thrones had been removed from the dais. I was happy to see guards posted on either side of her; the security had increased since the murders. Her advisor, Jenri, stood close behind her, his gray eyes never straying far
from her face.

  “Welcome, Keralie and Varin,” she said with a smile as we entered the room hand in hand. “It’s good to see you looking well.”

  No doubt she referred to my new outfit—the cutoff pants of a dermasuit with a deep blue corset and long overcoat from Toria, providing the best comfort from both quadrants.

  “Queen Marguerite.” I bowed, keeping Varin’s hand within mine.

  She smiled and asked, “Jenri said you wished to speak with me?”

  I managed to unstick my tongue from the roof of my suddenly parched mouth. “Yes, my queen. If that’s all right?”

  She laughed, though not unkindly. “I know little of you, Keralie, but I would not have thought you shy. Go on.”

  I looked at Varin’s serene face before turning back to the queen. “I know I have no right to ask you this”—I cleared my throat—“to ask you for anything—”

  “Stop,” Queen Marguerite commanded. “Have you already forgotten my order? You must move on from what happened here.” She glanced at Jenri. “We all must.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Continue, then.”

  “My father was in an accident six months ago,” I began. “An accident I caused. And even though I don’t deserve forgiveness, and to move on, he does.” Before I knew it, tears were running down my face. “I turned my back on my family long ago, even before his accident. I turned toward something that was easy and gratifying and selfish. I didn’t realize my choices would hurt my family; I only cared about what I wanted. What I thought I wanted. But I want more for my life now.” I grinned at Varin through my tears. “I’ve seen so much while in the palace. Beyond the Jetée, beyond Toria.” I spread my hands wide. Even without four queens, this room had a commanding presence. It spoke of our nation, of the divisions and the intersections. It spoke of our combined cultures. Our united desires.

  The first four queens of Quadara had created peace with their walls, but had they misunderstood the power of this place? The potential of their nation?

  There were no borders here.

  “Are you all right?” Queen Marguerite asked, leaning forward.

  Varin placed his free hand on my back, steadying me. If I hadn’t stolen Varin’s comm case, I never would’ve found out about Eonist death dates. I never would’ve understood how Eonists feel, and hurt. And Varin and I wouldn’t have met; those walls would have kept us apart.

  Arebella might have been destructive and dangerous, but she wasn’t completely wrong about Quadara.

  “I’m fine,” I said firmly. “My eyes have been opened to a larger world. One I want to be a part of. But to do that”—I wiped my nose with the back of my hand—“I have to learn how to forgive myself. And I can’t do that without my family. I can’t.”

  At the mention of family, Queen Marguerite stilled. “What can I do?”

  “My father is at the Eonist Medical Facility,” I said. “He’s been in a coma since the accident and has continued deteriorating. He has weeks—maybe less—to live. I was hoping . . . I would like to ask . . .” Why was this so hard? I was trying not to be selfish, but here I was, asking a selfish question. “I know out of all people, I shouldn’t be asking anything from you, from the palace. I don’t deserve it. But my father does. Please”—the tears flowed freely now—“please give him a second chance.”

  “You want to use a dose of HIDRA for your father?” she surmised.

  I nodded. “I know there are few treatments left, but if you could spare it, I would be forever grateful.”

  Queen Marguerite looked to Jenri for a moment. A warm exchange passed between them, something extending beyond the queen and advisor relationship. What had happened here had highlighted what was important. I knew the feeling.

  “Please, my queen. Please let me be a part of something good.”

  “With no other queens to deliberate over this decision,” Queen Marguerite said, her eyes shifting to where the other thrones should be, “it is up to me, and me alone. We’ve been through many unspeakable horrors in the last two weeks. As have you. Without my daughter and the choice I made seventeen years ago”—she took a deep breath—“none of this would’ve happened.”

  “This is not your fault!” I interrupted. “My queen,” I added quickly.

  “Nor is it yours.” Her words were stern but understanding. In that moment, I could see the wonderful mother she would’ve been. “I will grant you this, as you and your father deserve a new beginning. We all deserve that.”

  My knees buckled but Varin held me close. “Thank you, Queen Marguerite. Thank you. Thank you.” The words didn’t even begin to cover my gratitude.

  “I will send a dose of HIDRA to the medical facility at once.”

  I pressed my face into Varin’s chest and broke down.

  “I’ve got you,” Varin whispered against my shaking shoulder, “you’re going to be all right.” And for the first time in months, perhaps years, I believed my life could change for the better. Had changed.

  After a moment, I pulled myself together and thanked Queen Marguerite again.

  “You know,” Queen Marguerite said, “I’m in need of additional advisors now that I’ll be ruling Quadara alone.” A darkness clouded her features whenever she mentioned the deceased queens. “I could benefit from someone who’s been involved in interquadrant business.”

  I let out a surprised laugh. “Are you offering me a job, my queen?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Would you accept, if I was?”

  “I don’t know.” I desperately wanted to start afresh and leave the palace behind, but everything that had happened in the past two weeks had changed me, irreversibly. “I’m not sure I could stay here.”

  “Not a problem!” She waved a hand. “I need a break from the palace myself. I’m currently organizing a tour of all the quadrants, spending a month in each, to ensure I understand the fundamental differences between them, but also the ideals we share. As the only queen of Quadara, I must respect what my sister queens believed in, while heralding change. Necessary change.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  She leaned forward. “Say you’ll help me. When I visit Toria, the final destination on my tour, help me learn all there is to know about your quadrant.” I noticed she said your quadrant and not hers. She spoke for all of Quadara now. “Even the Jetée. The queens have been too long disconnected from our people. I realize that now, with all that’s happened.” She took a moment, her hand on her chest, before continuing. “I want to ensure everyone’s voice is heard and placate any concerns. I cannot allow anger and hatred to cause such destruction, like what happened here with these murders.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I would be more than happy to help.” It was the least I could do for the palace and Queen Marguerite for helping my father. And it might help ease my guilt.

  “Wonderful.” She clapped her hands together. “Now on to Varin.”

  “Sorry?” He glanced at me. “My knowledge of the other quadrants is slim, my queen. I’m not sure I’ll be of much help.”

  She smiled in response. “That’s not quite what I had in mind for you. The inspector examined your background when he was investigating the murders.”

  If Varin was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Yes, my queen?”

  She pressed her lips together solemnly. “He learned about your death date.” I squeezed Varin’s hand. His chest rose and fell more rapidly as the queen went on. “I can’t let Eonia continue to treat their people with such disrespect. While changing the laws there will take time, I can offer you something to ensure your vision doesn’t continue to deteriorate.”

  “HIDRA?” I asked. Anticipation hummed under my skin. Were we both so blessed by the queens above?

  Queen Marguerite shook her head. “I’m afraid not. You see, Varin’s condition is neither a disease nor injury.
It’s a genetic condition. And genes can only be manipulated before birth. I’m sorry, but we cannot fix his vision.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I thought HIDRA could fix everything?”

  Her brow lowered. “I checked with all our doctors. I’m very sorry. I wish I had better news.”

  Varin’s expression stayed the same. I wanted him to scream, to yell, to break. I wanted him to feel, as I did in that moment. And I wanted to help endure his pain.

  But he squared his shoulders and said, “I understand. Thank you for trying, my queen.”

  “Not all is lost,” she said. “There is a treatment that will keep the degeneration at bay. And I’ve already put more funding into attempts to reverse genetic conditions after birth.” When neither of us answered, she added, “There’s hope, Varin. Please don’t give up.”

  He nodded, but his hand felt limp in mine.

  * * *

  —

  VARIN AND I sat on the House of Concord steps, my fingertips tracing patterns on the back of his hand. It had snowed overnight, coating everything with a dusting of white. The air had that crisp fresh smell of newly fallen snow, and the morning crowds were out preparing to do business.

  The screens atop the buildings continued to play Queen Marguerite’s latest Queenly Report on a loop. A few people stood, watching her solemn retelling of the past few weeks’ events, four fingers pressed to their lips.

  Quadara had been shaken, but it had not been broken.

  Varin stared ahead at something I couldn’t see. I worried he’d shut me out again without the possibility of HIDRA. But everything was different now. He was different.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He turned and gave me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. As Queen Marguerite said, I have hope. That’s more than I had before coming here. In fact.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I have much more than hope. More than I could’ve ever dreamed of.”

  “What?” I said in mock solemnity. “A criminal record?”