Four Dead Queens(104)

“Nor do I,” Queen Arebella chimed in. “This is an elaborate tale from a desperate girl who should be on her way to the gallows.”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s the truth!”

Varin pressed against me for support, unable to touch me while the guards held his hands behind his back.

“It’s a complete and utter lie,” she replied.

“It is true that a person would do anything in desperation,” the inspector said, approaching the Torian queen. “Isn’t that right, my queen?”

“Yes.” Queen Arebella nodded fervently. “Yes. That’s right.”

He looked up at her on the dais. “In desperation, a girl might even try to kill her own mother. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Queen Arebella jerked as though her body had been destabilized. “What did you say?” She held on to the Archian throne for support.

Without glancing at her, he addressed the court. “A girl might orchestrate the murder of all queens to allow herself to rule. But she could not carry out the act herself, as that would be too obvious. Instead, she would need to employ someone who had the means for such brutal killings. Someone like him.” He pointed to Mackiel. “An old friend of Arebella’s. Who we now know controlled her.” He pointed to me. “A criminal of his employ.”

“More lies,” Queen Arebella said.

“Initially, I was skeptical, but Keralie has allowed me to see the truth. She recorded her dealings with Mackiel, recounting how she was asked to steal the comm chips and later ingested them, not knowing the consequences. She had no control over what happened to the queens.”

“What are you saying?” Queen Arebella’s hand was at her throat.

“Do you deny your involvement?” The inspector turned his head to the side. “Even though you are the only one to prosper from the deaths of the queens?”

“Of course I deny it!” she shrieked. “Someone arrest the inspector for such lurid accusations!”

The inspector pressed his lips together. “I’d be happy to call in another inspector to check my findings, but he’ll come to the same conclusion.” He tapped the comm case strapped to his side. “My discoveries are all recorded here.”

Arebella looked to her advisor. “Jenri, help me! He’s lying!”

I stepped forward. “No, he’s not.” The guards had loosened their grip as the inspector had gone on. “Everything he says is true. Mackiel used me for Queen Arebella’s bidding. They both controlled me and made me kill the queens. I’m not guilty—she is! If you wish to execute me, then Queen Arebella should hang by my side.”

“No!” Queen Arebella’s face had turned red. “I would never kill my mother. I couldn’t!” It was easy to see Arebella as the young, indignant child she really was, as her lies began to unravel.

“That,” the inspector said, “is the first truth you’ve said today.”

Arebella’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes, yes. I didn’t kill her.”

“No, you didn’t,” the inspector said. “For she lives.”

Gasps echoed throughout the room. I stumbled. What? Varin’s eyes were as wide as mine.

A woman stood from the crowd, a black veil concealing her face. At first, I thought she was about to faint; then she pulled back her veil.

“Queen Marguerite!” Jenri gasped at the sight of the former Torian queen. “You’re alive!”





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT





Marguerite


   Queen of Toria



Rule fifteen: Each year, the queens will decide, in conference with their advisors, who will be granted a dose of HIDRA.


Marguerite realized she wasn’t dead when she saw the face of the inspector leaning over her instead of her royal ancestors—long passed to the quadrant without borders. And while she could not speak, she nodded when he inquired if she was feeling well.

Well was a relative word.

As soon as the poison had touched her skin and sunk down through her tissue to taint her bloodstream, she’d thought it was the end. Her throat still felt raw and her insides as though someone had raked their nails against them, but she was breathing. She was alive.

The inspector explained that while the poison had already done some damage to her other organs, he had been able to prevent it from stopping her heart by using a dose of HIDRA.

Each year, Marguerite had been involved in deciding which critical patient was the most deserving to receive the life-saving treatment; she’d never thought she would be a recipient.

The inspector had explained that the palace doctor had administered a dose of HIDRA when she’d fallen into a coma. Her infected blood had gone into a dialysis machine, was treated by HIDRA, then pumped back into her body to fix her internal injuries.

Marguerite hadn’t known the woman who was HIDRA when she was alive. Now all that was left of her was twenty vials of perfect elixir blood. She wished the woman were still alive to thank.

As days went by, the blood did its work within Marguerite’s body, and she had felt better. Lighter. Each breath was not as though someone had doused a wound with alcohol—the pain lessened and lessened. By the fourth day, she found her voice.

“Why have there been no visitors?” she asked the inspector. She worried the fire had taken more lives than Queen Corra’s. Her chest tightened at the thought. The inspector had remained mostly by her side, but would disappear for long lengths of time.