Four Dead Queens(24)

“How do you know it was premeditated?” Corra asked.

“What else could it be?” Stessa found herself saying, without meaning to. She’d planned to stay quiet throughout the meeting, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Even though the inspector was here for Iris’s murder, she didn’t want his eyes to linger on hers. She wanted to retire to her rooms and wait for Lyker to join her, to still her shaking hands and tell silly jokes, to help her forget this horrid day.

“Why do you say that, Queen Stessa?” The inspector’s eyes found hers. It was the first time he’d really looked at her, and his eyes were so black you couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris. It reminded her of the blackest night, no stars to be seen. What gruesome acts had those eyes witnessed?

“Queen Stessa?” he prompted when she failed to reply.

She knew what he was thinking. What she’d previously said about Iris was blunt and callous.

Suspicious.

But he was wrong. She was simply being truthful. Iris would’ve appreciated that.

Stessa tilted her chin upward. She might not be his queen, but she was still a queen and deserved his respect. Respect was something Iris had mastered as easily as breathing. Stessa was young; it wouldn’t be as easy for her to garner the same kind of respect, but she would try.

“Well, it’s not like Iris slit her own throat,” Stessa began. “And she couldn’t go a day without causing an argument or raising her voice.” She shrugged, jingling the bejeweled necklace, which sat around her shoulders. “That’s all.” She hoped to shift the focus from her.

“No one would kill Iris for being argumentative.” Corra paused for a moment, then said, “Would they?” As if she couldn’t imagine a crime driven by emotion.

Corra was blind to Iris’s faults, seeing only the best in her sister queen, but she must’ve realized that Iris was disliked by many. Especially the staff who were not Archian. She had not been an easy queen to serve. Even though she lived in the palace, with all Quadara had to offer, Iris insisted everything be made by hand, to continue her Archian way of life. Her food, her clothing, even the utensils she ate with. She was stubborn and unyielding.

“You said it was premeditated, Inspector?” Marguerite asked, bringing the queens back on track. “How do you know that?” It was clear in Marguerite’s eyes that she didn’t want to shy away from any details, but it was not her job to solve this crime.

The inspector twisted his mouth before replying. “The wound,” he began, “to her throat was precise, as I said earlier. Crimes of passion are not neat. There was only one cut, quick, clean, and true. This was planned. The killer wanted a quick death, most likely to ensure they weren’t caught in the act.”

Neat—what a strange word to describe someone’s throat being slashed, Stessa thought with a shiver. And she knew the murder hadn’t been as tidy as the inspector claimed, for she’d overheard the staff talking in the corridors about the discovery of the body. A handmaiden had found Iris in a pool of her own blood.

“What does this mean?” Marguerite probed. Corra’s face was blank, as usual.

“It’s likely we’re looking for a trained killer, or someone who has killed before,” the inspector said carefully, his eyes darting between each queen. He scratched at his chin with those awful long fingers. “An assassin.”

Marguerite shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps the killer was hired by a neighboring nation?”

He nodded. “It’s possible. It’s unlikely you have someone on your staff who knows how to kill that ruthlessly, that precisely.” He glanced at the advisors behind him before leaning across the table to the queens.

They followed suit, leaning forward.

He lowered his voice, preventing the audience behind him from overhearing. “Have there been any recent additions to the staff? Anyone new to the palace?”

Marguerite shook her head. “Not for a while. Not for over a year or so.”

His question began to burn within Stessa’s chest. The inspector asked, “But there was an addition before that?”

Marguerite’s eyes found Stessa’s, then flashed to someone behind the inspector.

Lyker.

“Yes,” Marguerite replied. “There were two additions to the palace over a year ago.”

The burn in Stessa’s chest flickered into fire. “What are you trying to say?” She jumped up, sending her chair into the wall behind her. The necklace’s beads jingled around her face nosily. “That I killed Iris?” A bubble of laughter burst forth. “While I can’t claim to have liked her, I wouldn’t have killed her. I’m no assassin.” She splayed her hands on either side of her as if her appearance were proof enough.

The inspector focused his gaze on her again, his lips pressed together. “We must examine every possibility,” he said. “I’m sure you want to find the killer, Queen Stessa?”

Stessa pulled her chair back to the table and sat down, swallowing her anger and fear. “I do.”

His long fingers created a steeple. “Good.”

Stessa held back a shudder.

The inspector glanced at Marguerite and Corra. “In fact, I will need to speak with all of you. Everyone in the palace will be spoken to.”

Everyone. Stessa forced herself not to find Lyker’s gaze, which she knew would be focused on her. She bounced in her seat in agitation.