Four Dead Queens(30)
“Thank you,” he said. “I will compare these notes to the testimonies I have recorded thus far.” He tapped the silver comm case clipped into his dermasuit at the waist. Marguerite knew Queen Corra recorded her memories of court onto comm chips, in case she needed to refer to them at a later date. She wondered what it would be like to have such easy access to your memories and whether you could get lost in the past.
She mentally shook herself. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
“While it is true Queen Iris was blunt and often harsh,” Marguerite said, “she was a good queen to her people. No”—she shook her head—“a great queen. Perhaps the best of us.”
He tilted his head to the side. “How so?”
Marguerite wondered if he was appalled she had not named Queen Corra—his queen—as the best. She doubted it; being appalled would require emotion.
“Her focus was on maintaining Archia’s culture,” Marguerite replied. “It’s tempting to want to share more across the quadrants, to help each other. And sometimes we do . . .” She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “But Archia’s culture and history was Iris’s primary focus, ensuring her people continued to work without the aid of technology, to protect the fruitful land. She did not always make the easiest decisions, but she made the right ones for her quadrant.”
“And yet she wished to change Queenly Law,” he said, his mouth close to the recording device.
“I’m sorry?” Marguerite startled. “What do you mean?”
The inspector pressed his lips together, as though he didn’t care to share more information.
Marguerite pulled her black veil back to reveal her resolute expression. “We need to work together, Inspector.” She leaned forward, her hands encroaching his space on the table. He probably thought she was simply being a nosy Torian, but this was Iris. Her friend. Marguerite would have done anything to learn the truth and have her sister queen avenged. “Let us help one another. We have the same goal.”
The inspector leaned back but nodded. She let out a sigh of disappointment, wanting more of a reaction from him. Just like Corra, always maintaining a distance. “I spoke with the Archian advisor late last night. Queen Iris had scheduled a meeting in court to discuss Queenly Law. That meeting would’ve been held today. All queens were to be in attendance,” he said.
Marguerite shook her head. “There must be some mistake. There was no queen more steadfast in Queenly Law than Iris.” In fact, Marguerite had often argued with the Archian queen, suggesting their two quadrants have a more symbiotic relationship. Iris had firmly rejected Marguerite’s suggestions.
“I believe my sources speak the truth,” the inspector said. “Do you not know your agenda for court in advance?”
“No.” Jenri hadn’t mentioned anything this morning; the advisors’ minds were still locked on the sudden, and shocking, death of Iris. “It changes often. We’re usually informed of our schedule by our advisor on the morning of the meeting when we wake and are preparing for the day.” Marguerite thought back to Iris’s increasing aloofness. “I can’t believe she didn’t discuss her plans with me.”
“You were close to her,” the inspector remarked, holding the recording device nearer to his mouth. “You were friends.”
She laughed. “You sound surprised, Inspector.”
“Comparing the narrow-mindedness of Archians to Torians’ desire to conquer all, then yes, I am surprised.”
“Archians are not narrow-minded.” She didn’t bother trying to correct him about Toria. There was no love lost between Eonists and Torians ever since the Quadrant Wars, when Toria refused to offer Eonia access to their land and forced them to be landlocked onto a region surrounded by snow and ice. “And Iris was misunderstood.” Marguerite chuckled at the thought of Iris hearing herself being called that. She would have threatened violence at such insolence. “Or maybe not, but I always appreciate her honesty and integrity.” Appreciated, she corrected. That was going to take some getting used to. Iris was so present, so active, so alive—to think of her as anything else tilted Marguerite’s world askew.
She clasped her hands together. “Integrity is a rare quality in this world, Inspector.”
He studied her for a moment with his black eyes. A small shudder ran down her spine. Perhaps he affected her more than she realized.
“Even in Toria?” he asked.
She knew he was referring to the Jetée and how it polluted the otherwise virtuous quadrant. She was tempted to tell him of her plans to tear the place down, to prove her quadrant wasn’t spoiled by a few rotten fish in a barrel. Instead, she merely raised an eyebrow. Iris had often remarked on Marguerite’s ability to say more without using words.
“Do you think her honesty is what got her killed?” he asked after she didn’t reply.
Marguerite thought of the way Iris had spoken to the Archian governor on the day she’d died, but he would not have killed her for it. No, it was something else.
“I don’t think so,” Marguerite responded. “She was as good at keeping secrets as the rest of us. As I said, she was a great queen. No one was more earnest in her position. Being queen was her sole purpose in life.”
Marguerite often tried to imagine what that would be like—the throne her only concern. While Marguerite’s queenly duties were her top priority, her mind often flittered. Beyond the throne. Beyond the palace. And to her past.