Four Dead Queens(101)

I’d killed the queens. I couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. Not if I wanted to get out of here. And everything finally made sense. Why I was always close to each queen’s death, but too late to save her. How could I have saved the queens from myself?

I’d thought my timing had been off since I entered the palace, unable to save the queens, but I’d been right on schedule. Exactly as Mackiel had planned it. Me, his windup doll. The ticking-time-clock assassin.

But this wouldn’t break me. All my other faults were on me. My parents’ boat, my father’s injury, my years of thieving and running away. But not this. Yes, I’d delivered death to each queen, but I wasn’t culpable. I’d come to the palace to save the queens, not hurt them. My hand might’ve struck them down, but Mackiel controlled the blade. He was the guilty one.

I couldn’t let him get away with this.

I was halfway up the prison stairs, ready to fight the guards outside, when soft footsteps padded from the adjoining corridor. I darted to the top and pressed against the door, waiting for the guard to round the corner and meet my raised fist. I wasn’t willing to use Mackiel’s blade on anyone but a locked door.

The guard opened the door; my first punch met his stomach, sending him to the ground. I launched on top of him, my second punch aimed for his temple.

“Stop,” the guard said. “It’s me!”

“Varin?” I paused, my fist hovering above his face. “What are you doing here?”

He rolled over and held up his hands. At first, I thought in surrender, but he was holding up a butter knife and fork.

“I thought you could use these,” he said. “To escape.”

“You came back to help? But you said—”

“I believe you,” he interrupted. “I believe you didn’t kill the queens. I don’t know what I saw, but I know it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you.” His pale eyes cut into me, sending my heart and head into a spin. “I was wrong. And I’ll make it up to you. First, we need to get out of here.”

“Well . . . I . . .” How could I explain everything that had happened? He had no reason to question what he saw—he’d been right about me—about all of it.

“Can I get up?” he asked.

I was still straddling him, my fist clenched. “Sure.” I blushed and scrambled off him. “Sorry.”

We stared at one another. Before I could say anything more, he grabbed me, his arms encircling my waist.

“I’m so, so sorry.” His words were whispered into my greasy hair. “Can you forgive me?”

I pushed him back, although I wanted to lose myself in the feeling of him. I’d thought I was never going to see him again, and now he wanted my forgiveness? Here he was, pushing logic and everything Eonist away and trusting his heart instead. Trusting in me. Against everything.

I couldn’t find the words, my throat thick with emotion. I nodded instead.

“Let’s get out of here, then.” He grabbed my hand. “They’re coming for you in less than an hour.” But I couldn’t let him do this without knowing the truth. If he was caught helping me flee the palace, then his life would be forfeit.

Could he forgive me?

“What?” he said. “What is it?”

I shook my head, tears threatening to fall. I didn’t want him to stop looking at me the way he was looking at me. Like I was everything to him. His heart and his future. The girl in that drawing. I didn’t want to destroy that. Destroy us.

“Keralie,” he whispered, his gloved fingers on either side of my face. “We’ll get out of here. Together. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that. You need to know the truth before you leave with me.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I—I did kill the queens . . .” Saying it still felt wrong, even knowing the truth.

His posture changed immediately, his shoulders drooping, arms falling to his sides. His face blanked, as if he’d slammed a door on his emotions.

“Stop,” I said quickly, reaching for him. “Let me explain.”

I told him about the new Eonist technology and how Mackiel had used the chips to control me. Varin was quiet the entire time, only a flicker of emotion passing behind his eyes when I mentioned how I’d been controlled.

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, pain pinching my insides. I wasn’t sure I could leave this place if he couldn’t. It was one thing to help me believing I’d been framed. Now he knew the truth. I had murdered the queens. Perhaps that was too much to ask. He was Eonist. He believed in goodness and justice. He only knew how to see and judge what was in front of him. And yet he was still here. Still looking into my eyes.

“Yes,” he said, though his voice was rough and cautious.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to escape with me anymore.” Would he push me down the stairs and back inside the cell? Would he want to see me hanged?

He pulled my face toward his and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. I tangled my hands in his hair, feeling anchored to the world once more, and feeling more myself than I had in days. In years.

He pulled away. “Of course I want to be with you. You weren’t in control of your actions. It’s not your fault. It could’ve been anyone under Mackiel’s control . . .” But his stoic mask was back in place.