Four Dead Queens(28)

I curtsied, then darted off.

Breaking into a store was easier than stealing from a person. With people, you had to observe. Observe the way they walked: Did they cling to their belongings like a child to their mother? Did they swing their arms wide, allowing a hand to sneak in underneath? Did their eyes dart about, searching shadows? Were they easily distracted, the golden palace stealing away their attention?

Stores didn’t have thoughts and feelings, backgrounds and motives. Stores only had locks. And locks were easy to pick.

I unclicked the lock pick from my bracelet. The weight of it in my hand released the last of the tension from between my shoulders. For the first time since the auction, I was in control. This was something I could do, something that wouldn’t go awry.

I couldn’t speak for what else was to come.



* * *



—

VARIN FROWNED AS I skipped toward him, still high from my break-in.

“What are you wearing?” It was more an accusation than a question.

I spun, the short layered skirt flaring out, spirals illuminating on the material as I twirled.

“I thought it might be useful,” I said. “If we find ourselves in dark places.”

“That’s Ludist clothing.”

I pushed his arm as I passed. “Oh, don’t be so Eonist. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of color and flare.”

“Not if you’re on the run.”

I shrugged. “No one said I couldn’t look good while doing it.”

He looked me over. “No one said that looked good.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

We walked up the House of Concord stairs, the palace dome glowing behind it like a giant gas lamp. I ducked my head, not wanting to be reminded of what I’d seen on those chips. It wasn’t like I could go to the palace guards and tell them about the memories I’d ingested. I was a thief. I couldn’t risk it.

“Ludists are a frivolous people,” Varin said, “caring only for what they own, how they look and their next fix of entertainment.”

I couldn’t argue against that. Ludia was like Toria on Quadrant Day—but in a constant state of celebration. Ludists didn’t know the drawbacks of returning to reality.

“Not everyone is blessed with superior genes.” I wrapped a hand around his arm. “Some of us have to work at looking good.”

His face colored in the dark.

“At least it’s less distracting than what you were wearing before,” he said finally.

“Less distracting, eh?” I pressed up against him to see his face darken further.

“Can you focus, please?”

“Sure.” I winked at him. “I’m focusing on you right now.”

He yanked his arm free.

“Oh, come on!” I said. “Lighten up, or are you not allowed a sense of humor either?”

He leveled his eyes on me. “Only if something is funny.”

I clutched my chest. “You wound me.”

He ignored my response. “Once we’re at my apartment, you’ll tell me everything you know.”

“I haven’t forgotten our deal.”

“Good,” he replied.

What would I do then? Once I told Varin what he needed to hear, he could kick me out of his place and onto the streets. But I didn’t know the streets of Eonia.

I thought of all the times my parents had begged me to stay clear of the auction house and Mackiel, asking, What do you want to do with your life, Keralie? Who you do you want to be?

Without Mackiel, and my role as his main dipper, who was I?





CHAPTER NINE





Marguerite


   Queen of Toria



Rule four: Curiosity and exploration are at the heart of every Torian. This should be encouraged to promote further growth of Toria’s burgeoning society.


Marguerite retired to her chambers after the inspector’s initial inquiries. Normally, the queens would meet for dinner, but Lali had left a meal upon her large wooden desk. Lali had been Marguerite’s handmaiden since she entered the palace, and the older woman always seemed to know what she desired. Marguerite needed the reprieve, returning to the one part of the palace that had always brought comfort.

Every wall in Marguerite’s chamber was covered in maps, maps of each quadrant, the palace itself and even the nations beyond Quadara. Her parents had been cartographers, and Marguerite had loved maps since she was a small child, tracing her father’s creations with her chubby fingers. Her parents had told her it was pertinent to extend her gaze beyond Quadara and understand the other nations to help inform the ruling of Toria.

Marguerite removed her veil and crown, letting her auburn hair tumble free. While she ate the meal at her desk, the maps beckoned like windows into other worlds. She didn’t feel enclosed by the palace’s dome. She didn’t feel alone. She remembered that Toria was out there; her people a part of her, who relied on her. She would make it through this tough time; she had to.

Know everything, and you shall know all was a favorite Torian saying of her father’s. And although she had not wanted to know everything about Iris’s death, she had stayed back to pepper the inspector with questions. She tried to forget this was her friend, and think of it merely as an interesting case. She willed her curious Torian nature to take over and force the sadness from her mind, but she struggled.