Four Dead Queens(51)

I bit my lip, listening for anything that could help us. Anything else we could take to the palace.

Focus, Keralie. Focus. Don’t think about the silver coffin you’ve climbed into.

“Take a seat, messenger,” said a voice. Female. Clearly angry. Definitely not Eonist.

“Yes, ma’am,” Varin replied.

Two chairs scraped against the tiled floor as they took their seats.

Only one woman? Surprising. I’d expected a whole enclave to be guarding the comm case and the secrets it held. Although . . . Two against one . . . I preferred those odds.

“Apologies for the delay. There was a mix-up with the delivery.” Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady.

“You have my comm case?”

“Of course. Here.” I heard the comm case slide along the metal table. I wished I could see what was happening.

The case clicked open, and I held my breath. This could all be over quickly. And I had no doubt this woman would be armed. This was a secret worth killing for. Hot fingers plucked at my chest like a Ludist musician on guitar strings. Perhaps this plan was madness, after all.

“Four chips,” the woman commented. One for each queen. “How interesting . . .”

Silence. Come on, Varin. Do something! Be brave. Be something! Varin couldn’t let this moment slip by, could he? This was his plan, after all.

“Is everything all right?” Varin asked, finally. You can do it. Be brave. “If you tell me more about your source, I’ll check with my employer. But everything should be correct.”

“More about my source?” the woman repeated.

“Yes. The person who sent you this message. If it’s not what you were expecting?”

“It is,” the woman said. “But you are not.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why are you asking questions about my chips?” the woman asked. “You’re not paid to think. You’re paid to deliver. Why do you care what’s on them?”

Shit.

The room was hushed, as if submerged in water. It was far too hot in the incinerator. Sweat pooled between my hunched shoulders. Had the woman turned the incinerator on?

“I don’t,” Varin said, but nerves were playing games with his voice.

“Eonists don’t lie,” the woman said, her voice turning steely. “And yet you’re clearly lying to me now.”

“No.” Varin sounded too defensive. “I mean, I’m a little curious, but—”

She laughed. “Curious?” The way she said the word, I knew she was all too familiar with the concept. Which meant she was Torian. I hoped for all our sakes that she didn’t know Mackiel.

The door opened, and I let out a breath, thinking the woman had left. Although we hadn’t learned much, at least Varin had a good look at her. Hopefully that would be enough to go to the palace authorities with. I made to open the incinerator when another voice interrupted. A melodic voice. One I knew all too well.

“Need some help in here?” the voice asked.

Shit. Mountains of horse shit.

“Mackiel.” The woman sounded surprised to see him. “I told you I would handle this.” Mackiel was high on the Torian queen’s wanted list. It was dangerous for him to be this close to the palace.

“But I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun,” he said. He sounded calm, in control, like he always did.

What could he possibly have to do with the assassination of the queens? Had he been the one to organize the assassination? Then why had he asked me to steal Varin’s comm case in the first place? I knew he hated Queen Marguerite for what she was planning to do to the Jetée, but why kill the other queens? Was it because they’d denied him access to HIDRA to save his parents?

“Hello, messenger,” he said. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again.” He didn’t sound surprised to find Varin.

I shuddered inside the incinerator. I had to stay quiet. Absolutely silent. I couldn’t save Varin, but I could still save myself.

“Hello, Mackiel,” Varin said softly. I wondered what flittered through his mind. Did he fear for his life? Or was fear an emotion also stamped out? How could his voice remain impassive?

“Where’s Keralie?” Mackiel asked.

“Who is—” Varin began.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mackiel replied. “You’re cute enough for it, but you’re an Eonist, and Eonists are not dumb.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Varin replied. It sounded believable to me, but Mackiel was not easily fooled.

“She’s not here,” the woman said. “But the boy knows something.”

“Keralie told you what she saw?” Mackiel asked. He sounded unconvinced.

“No, she wouldn’t tell me,” Varin replied.

“Ah!” Mackiel said. “Now, that reeks of my sweet Kera.”

“But he was asking about the chips,” the woman said, sounding confused. “He knows.”

“Yes,” Mackiel agreed. “He must have rerecorded them from Keralie’s memory, didn’t you?” I knew the expression he’d have—the expression I saw every day, pulling the truth from those who didn’t want to give it. And there’d be that smile, that charming smile, which assured you everything would be okay if you followed him. Told him the truth. Trusted him.