Four Dead Queens(25)

“We understand,” Marguerite replied, her hand gently squeezing Stessa’s shoulder to calm her. “We will do anything to ensure the assassin is found, for Queen Iris and Archia, before we notify the public of her death.”

Stessa noticed Corra refused to look up from her lap, her hand in the middle of her chest, as though something were lodged there.

“Good,” the inspector repeated with a nod. “Then I will begin my interviews with Queen Stessa.”

Stessa squared her shoulders and leveled her eyes on his. “Go ahead, for I have nothing to hide.”

If only that were true.





CHAPTER EIGHT





Keralie



When we reached a cobblestone road, I glanced around in the dim. Few gas lamps lit this part of the harbor. The road through the suburbs to Central Toria—which the Jetée workers called the Skim, as those who lived there only skimmed across the surface of life—was increasingly brighter. A literal light at the end of the tunnel.

The quickest way to Eonia was through Central Toria and the Concord, where the quadrants met.

“It will take hours to walk to the Concord,” I said to the messenger. Staying in Toria gave Mackiel the opportunity to find me. I didn’t trust him, not anymore. I’d never trust him again.

“Then we’ll need transport,” he said.

“A carriage,” I replied.

“Yes, but where will we find—” he began.

“There! A carriage!” I’d never been so happy to hear the sound of hooves against stones.

The messenger squinted in the dark. “Where? I don’t see—”

“There!”

Two white horses were visible in the night, pulling a small carriage. The driver blended into the darkness, as though the carriage were driven by a specter.

Better this ghoul than the ones behind us.

The messenger gestured to my undergarments and sopping hair. “Will they let you travel like that?”

“You have money on you?” I asked, and he nodded. “Then we’re good.”

The messenger pulled out a few quartiers; I was surprised to see the circular impression on the coins glimmer gold. Perhaps he did have the means to bid for the comm case, if Mackiel had ever planned to part with it.

As the carriage neared, I skittered onto the road and under the beam of the nearest gas lamp. I threw my hands up at the driver. “Stop!”

The driver pulled on the reins, and the horses jerked to a halt with a whinny. “Are you mad, girl?” he asked, taking in my appearance.

“Let us in,” I said, clambering for the side of the carriage. I ignored the tumble of my belly at the sight of the small internal cabin.

“You’ll wet me seats.” The driver showed a few spoiled teeth.

“See this?” I grabbed the messenger’s hand, the coins still visible in his fist. The messenger flinched at my contact. “They’re gold quartiers. You can take them all.”

“But I—” the messenger began.

I shot him a look.

“Please,” I said to the driver, wishing I didn’t look like a drowned sewer rat. I wasn’t working with my best.

The driver glanced back over his shoulder before jerking his chin. “All right. Get on in, then.”

“We need to get to the Concord.” I scrambled into the cabin before he could reconsider. “And be quick about it.”

The messenger slid in beside me. “That’s everything I have,” he said.

“You want to get away from Mackiel and his henchmen?” He nodded. “Then you pay.” I rested my hand on the door handle and took a few steadying breaths. We were safe.

The carriage lurched forward, and the messenger placed his hands to the side of the cabin.

“First time in a carriage?” I asked. He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded again as we jolted along the cobblestones. While Toria was more advanced than Archia, there were a few technologies we still couldn’t afford. Like fast, smooth electric transportation. But Queen Marguerite talked of advancements. One such proposal was to demolish the Jetée to build a larger harbor for transnational trades.

I wondered if the news of her death had spread to the Jetée owners and if they were partying in the streets, or if the news had reached my mother at the Eonist Medical Facility. She always spoke so highly of Queen Marguerite and her plans to rid Toria of its seedy underbelly.

The sudden and overwhelming urge to be enveloped by her arms stole the breath from my lungs.

“We should be safe in Eonia,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “Mackiel won’t venture outside his domain, and the henchmen won’t risk returning there.” I couldn’t believe how the one person I’d relied on for years had suddenly become my biggest enemy.

I took another steadying breath as the sides of the carriage appeared to close in on me. Small breath in, small breath out, I reminded myself. There’s a way in, and always a way out. I was not being punished. I was not trapped. My senses were not smothered by the stink of seaweed, blood and fish. Not today. Not today. There was plenty of room in this cabin.

But the deaths of the queens had resurfaced thoughts and images I could no longer suppress.

It was six months ago. My father was once again attempting to teach me the ways of Torian seafarers, hoping to lure me from Mackiel and his business. While I’d never explained my role as a dipper, my father had a fair idea of what I got up to. I tried arguing that the money I earned could be used for a better life, a bigger house, even a better boat. But my father wouldn’t take a single bronze quartier.