Four Dead Queens(13)

“I apologize for my wording,” Alissa replied, lowering her eyes.

Marguerite turned to the young queen. “Stessa, this is a tough time for us all. Do not take it out on the advisors. They grieve as we do.”

Stessa huffed. “Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you can speak down to me. You don’t rule me, or Ludia.”

Marguerite held her hand out across Corra’s lap to reach for Stessa. “That was not my intention,” she said.

Stessa merely stared at Marguerite’s fingers. “Well, try harder, then.” Marguerite retracted her hand as though she’d been stung. “With one queen gone, you’re already taking the opportunity to steer this toward your interests.”

“My interests?” Marguerite sat back in her throne in irritation. “My interests are my quadrant, my sister queens and Quadara. That is all.”

“Unlikely!” Stessa replied. “You see this as an opportunity to have more of a voice in court! You’re Torian—of course you want to stick your nose into everyone’s business. Why can’t you leave us be?”

“Stop.” Corra rose from her throne. “We can’t turn on one another.” Iris was the strongest of them all; without her, they were already falling apart. “Why has no one spoken of what happened to her?”

Marguerite turned from Stessa with a small shake of her head. The two had been close when Stessa had first entered the palace, needing a motherly figure, but now the youngest queen seemed to take offense whenever Marguerite spoke.

“I’m sorry, Queen Corra,” Alissa began. “I didn’t know you hadn’t heard. It’s terrible, but her throat was—”

Corra stopped her with a wave of her hand. “No. No one has said who did it. Why are we bickering like children when there was a murderer in the palace? Who still might be in the palace?” Was she the only one focused on the actual issue?

Stessa sank farther into her chair, curling into herself like a wounded animal. “A murderer?”

“One does not get murdered without a murderer,” Corra said bluntly. “Don’t be foolish.” She had wanted to say childish, but that was an easy shot. And Corra was not hot-blooded. She was calm. Still.

Steady hand. Steady heart, Corra reminded herself of her mother’s famous words.

“Of course we must find an heir for Archia,” Corra said to the advisors, her hand on a small lump where her watch was concealed beneath her dermasuit, “but we can’t forget what brought us here. We have to uncover who killed Iris and why.”

“She wasn’t very kind,” Stessa replied quietly, studying her black-painted nails.

Perhaps she wasn’t to Stessa, Corra thought. Iris had issues with the Ludist queen and her wavering temperament. She’d often said that Stessa was too young to take her position seriously.

“And she wanted too much from this.” Stessa glanced to the words engraved on the walls surrounding them. “More than what’s allowed.”

Corra snapped her attention to the Ludist queen. “What are you talking about?”

Stessa glanced away. “You know how she was.” But she left something unsaid, her black brows knitting together, her death mask cracking.

No one spoke in Iris’s defense. Something inside Corra’s stomach twisted and burned.

“Queen Iris was a good queen,” Marguerite said finally, her voice steady as though she dared anyone argue with her. She addressed Alissa. “And Queen Corra is correct. We need to uncover how someone made it into the palace undetected and killed Queen Iris. How was this person not spotted? And how were they allowed to carry out such a ghastly act unnoticed?”

“I will investigate, Queen Marguerite,” Alissa replied.

“No,” Corra said. All eyes were on her. She lowered her hand from her chest. “We need someone from outside the palace, outside of Queen Iris’s staff. Someone on the outside of influence.” And suspicion.

The sister queens nodded.

“I will call an inspector immediately,” Corra said. “We will uncover the truth.”





CHAPTER FIVE





Keralie



I stared at the back of the messenger’s worn top hat. What was his plan? Ask Mackiel for the comm case? Steal it back?

Unless he won the comm case in the auction . . .

There was no way he’d be able to afford it. The comm case was sure to ignite a bidding frenzy. People would fight for the chance to use unique technology from Eonia and witness the quadrant for themselves. While I’d never had the pleasure of the experience myself, I knew comm chips allowed Eonists to share memories as if they were your own.

The messenger was a fool to come here. Mackiel’s henchmen wouldn’t be far—the mere sight of them was sure to send the boy running back to his perfect, polished quadrant before they even laid a hand on him.

No one appeared to notice the messenger wasn’t one of their own. But even if I hadn’t seen the black dermasuit tucked beneath his collar, his movements gave him away. Calm and controlled. Not fidgety like Torians. We didn’t have time to be still. We didn’t have the luxury. And he was too clean cut. His sharp cheekbones, defined jaw and perfect skin stood out among the grimy faces in the crowd; the seafarers who hadn’t had time to bathe before the auction began, bringing their sea-tarnished quartiers and the stink of fish along with them.