Four Dead Queens(26)

“Hard work runs in our family, Kera,” he said. “What you’re doing is cheating, and what’s worse is that you’re cheating yourself. You could be so much more.”

He didn’t understand. I was exactly who I wanted to be and had everything I’d ever desired. Everything they could never have afforded. I wanted to share that with them.

It would’ve been a normal afternoon, the two of us bickering until nightfall. But then the boat came too close to the shore, striking a nearby cliff. I had tried to hold on to the mast, but the collision ruptured the boat, flinging us both from the deck. I landed on my father, incurring no injuries. He landed at the base of the cliff.

I’d thought we were okay, safe from the boat’s destruction. But my father wouldn’t open his eyes. Then I saw the blood, seeping from a deep gash at the back of his head.

I managed to pull my father’s limp body into the protection of a nearby cave. I shivered in the oppressively small space, the dampness never allowing my clothes to dry, my shuddering breaths echoing in the chamber, only the sound to keep me company.

On the second day, I started hallucinating from dehydration. The rock walls would judder, as if they were about to collapse in on me. On the third day, I hoped they would.

When the coastguards found us a day later, they’d thought we were dead; we were both unconscious and covered in blood. It wasn’t until they cleaned me up that they discovered the blood was all my father’s. I’d never forget my mother’s tearstained face when she saw us, the first of many tears she would cry over my father.

And now he was dying.

I wished I could take that day, and many others, back. I wished I’d never taken Mackiel’s hand when he offered it all those years ago outside the auction house. But I couldn’t blame him for what I’d done to my father. I’d always wanted more than my parents could offer. I’d wanted a different life. I had to live with the consequences.

“Hey,” the messenger said, noticing my shaking. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, pretending to shift a hair back from my forehead while I wiped the sweat beading across my brow. My damp dress was becoming an icy coffin. I focused on not gasping for large terrified breaths.

Small breath in. Small breath out.

The cabin wasn’t getting smaller. I would not be trapped here forever. I wouldn’t be forgotten. I would not—

“Are you going to tell me now what you saw on the chips?” the messenger asked.

I tried to focus on the boy in front of me. “You won’t believe me.” But that wasn’t true. I didn’t want to tell him in case he left me behind. I didn’t know if he was telling the truth about being able to rerecord the comm chips. He could be bluffing, making me spill before our deal was done.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, a tilt to his brow.

Never give up your leverage until you have the wares safe in your hands, Mackiel would tell us dippers. A promise of a deal is not a deal done.

I needed to get as far away from Mackiel and his henchmen as possible. And this messenger was my ticket out of here.

“I’ll tell you when we’re at your place,” I said, ignoring the darkness creeping in at my periphery, desperate to take hold. There’s a way in, and always a way out. I gripped the door handle harder.

“We’ll be at the Concord soon,” he said. “The quadrant authorities will let you through to Eonia, as I’m permitted to do interquadrant business; however”—he looked back at me—“while your quadrant may not care about what you wear, you won’t be allowed onto an Eonist commuter train dressed like that.”

He was right. I’d be detained before we got close to his lodgings, being such an unsightly scandal.

The darkness in my periphery reduced as a new target formed in my mind. My hand loosened on the door. “I’ll have to acquire a new outfit, then,” I said with a grin.

“Acquire?” He groaned. “I’m beginning to realize that look on your face means nothing good will follow.”

I patted his shoulder. “You’re a quick learner.”

“If I was quicker, I would’ve avoided this mess by leaving you on your rear this morning.” There was a small raise to the corner of his mouth. He was making a joke. Oh, bless. “But spare me the details,” he added.

I nudged him good-naturedly with my elbow. “What’s your name, messenger boy?”

He hesitated before replying, “Varin Bollt.”

“Keralie Corrington.” I held out my hand for him to shake. “A pleasure.”

He didn’t take my hand. I let it fall into my lap. I’d forgotten Eonists don’t touch each other.

“What is that disgusting smell?” he asked suddenly.

I took a good long whiff, then immediately regretted it. “That’s horse shit.”

“I’ve never seen a horse before.” Like a child, he peered out the window to try and glimpse the horse up front. Most of Eonia was far too cold for any animals to survive, and the rest was dense cityscape, or so I’d heard, having never visited the quadrant myself. “They’re beautiful,” he said. Beautiful. There was that word again. Before I could question him about it, he added, “But they smell foul.”

I laughed. “They’re animals, not machines. You can’t control everything they do and when they do it.”