Four Dead Queens(35)

“Is this what we record on?” I twirled the chip in my fingers. There was a cloudy dot in the middle.

“Not that one.” He grabbed the chip from my hand and placed it back into the right side of the container.

“Why not?”

He removed a chip from the left side and clicked it into the recorder. “That’s not blank.”

“What’s on it? A memory to deliver?”

“No.” He studied his recorder, avoiding my eyes. Hmm. He was hiding something. While Eonists didn’t lie, they could conceal information. I grabbed for another chip, checking for the cloudy dot.

“So if I was to put this on my tongue . . .” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He reached out and touched my hand, pleadingly. “Please don’t.”

I held the chip above my lips. “Why not? What’s on them?”

He shook his head slowly and let out a breath, as though he was tired or, rather, tired of me. “They’re snippets of memories.”

“Your memories?” Now this was interesting. What in Varin’s life had he recorded, if his childhood was unremarkable?

His lips pressed into a thin line. “No. Often we make duplicates at work, in case there’s a problem with the delivery.” Before I could ask, he said, “We didn’t make a copy of the ones you ingested. We were instructed not to.”

That didn’t surprise me, knowing what was on the chips. “Then you stole these? You stole other people’s memories?” I wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or impressed.

His back went rigid at the accusation. “I didn’t steal them. They were going to be destroyed. And there’s nothing confidential on them.” But there was no way of proving that; once he’d ingested the chips, the evidence was gone.

“Why keep them?” I asked. If they weren’t confidential, then they were hardly valuable.

He hesitated for a moment. “We only have a short time to experience the world, and there’s so much out there to see.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll never get to see it all.”

This boy was sitting in this stark room, watching other people’s memories to get a taste of a life he’d never live. It was pathetic, but also incredibly sad.

“When we’re done,” I said, “I’ll record a memory for you to watch.”

His eyes flicked open. “Really?”

“Sure.” I had plenty of happy childhood memories to share. Someone should get a little enjoyment out of them.

“Thank you.” He looked at me as though I was offering him gold quartiers.

“Okay, let’s do this before I change my mind.” All this talk about memories was reminding me of the blood-soaked images I’d been trying to suppress all evening.

Varin pulled out two sets of round pads, placing one set in front of me and keeping the other. The Torian part of me was intrigued as the machine hummed to life, wanting to know how it worked. And of course, wondering what it would fetch at auction. Varin pushed the hair back from his forehead and placed a pad against each temple.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m going to watch the recording,” he explained. “To make sure you’re giving me what I need.” He was going to regret that decision.

He crouched beside me and placed the pads on either side of my head, biting his lip in concentration. Electricity, which I wasn’t sure was from the recorder, sparked through my veins. His eyes found mine, and I sucked in a breath. Those strange, but beautiful, pale eyes. My gaze wandered to his lips. When I looked back up, I found he was watching my mouth. Something lingered behind his usual stoic expression. Something like desire.

His eyes snapped to mine, and he pushed away from me, the moment gone.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to start the recording now.”

“Good, that’s what I’m waiting for.” I stumbled over my words, my cheeks warming.

He nodded, short and sharp. “Start with the first thing you remember from when you ingested the chips, and the recorder will guide you to recall the rest.”

I didn’t want to remember. It was brutal. Bloody. Unbelievable.

“Ready?” he asked.

No. But I had no choice. Even though Varin appeared to be living a heartless life, I wasn’t willing to take it from him. He needed this information. And I needed to stay far away from Mackiel.

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes and remembered.





CHAPTER ELEVEN





Corra


   Queen of Eonia



Rule five: A queen must be raised within her own quadrant to learn the ways of her people and not be influenced by the palace’s politics.


A storm raged inside Corra, as though half her body was on fire, the other half as cold as ice. And everything hurt. Her head. Her chest. Her heart.

Her heart . . .

She couldn’t dwell on it. Couldn’t feel it. Shouldn’t. And yet she did. She felt everything with such a precise clarity, her head pounded as though it might split in two to allow the pressure to escape. I am Eonist, she reminded herself. Detached, logical, composed. But with the inspector interrogating everyone inside the palace, she knew her secret was bound to be uncovered.