Four Dead Queens(106)
Could Marguerite have avoided this if she’d allowed Arebella to know the truth from birth? Or would they still be standing here, three queens slain?
“Take her to the palace prison,” Marguerite said heavily. “I will decide her fate.” She sighed. “In time.”
The inspector nodded, and the guards moved from Varin and Keralie to approach the ousted queen.
“You can’t kill me,” Arebella said as she was put in chains. “You still have no other heirs. I will inherit the throne one day. You can’t live forever!”
“No, I can’t,” Marguerite replied. “But I have enough time to ensure you’ll never rule. For the only person who can change Queenly Law is a queen. A true Quadarian queen. And you have never been queen and never will be.”
She thought her daughter would fight her, would spit words of hate, but Arebella was silent as she was dragged from the room.
“And Mackiel?” Keralie said, pointing to the narrow boy, who tried to appear small in the crowd.
“Don’t worry,” the inspector replied. “He will also answer for his crimes.” He nodded to the guards, and they made to grab for the boy, but he pushed through the crowd, knocking people out of the way before anyone could catch him.
“There’s nowhere to run,” the inspector said calmly. “The palace is still closed.”
But that did not stop the boy, whom Marguerite now recognized—not only from her memories from when he was a baby, but because he was the spitting image of her childhood friend. The friend she had given Arebella to, the friend who was to find a family and raise Arebella far from the palace. What had happened to that sweet childhood friend who had stood by her side while the other children had called her names? How had Mackiel become something dark and twisted?
How had her own daughter?
Mackiel barreled down the aisle, his arms and legs spiraling frantically as he tried to avoid the guards. Rings flew from his fingers as he scrambled toward one of the court exits, his top hat falling behind.
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.