Four Dead Queens(52)

Don’t tell him, Varin, I begged. Nothing good came from telling Mackiel the truth. He’ll use it against you.

“Yes,” Varin said. A part of my chest collapsed. Why couldn’t he be stronger? “I rerecorded them from her memory. Therefore, the chips are as they once were. The transaction is now complete.”

“Hmm,” Mackiel said. I could hear his rings clack together as he entwined his fingers. “Silly pretty Eonist. You think if you’re polite and helpful that all will be forgiven. That’s how your world works, isn’t it?” I could imagine Mackiel’s grin widening with each word. He’d be enjoying this. Twisting the truth was his favorite game. “But you’re not dealing with Eonists. You’re dealing with a Torian. You’re dealing with me.”

“I don’t understand,” Varin said.

“You’ve set me behind schedule,” Mackiel replied. “And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Varin’s voice wavered when he said, “I don’t have anything else to give you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I—I . . .” Varin stuttered.

“How about we make a new deal,” Mackiel said. “Tell me where Keralie is, and I won’t kill you.”

I held a trembling hand over my mouth to slow my panicked breathing. Darkness crept in from the sides, threatening to swamp my sight.

I hoped Varin remembered what I’d said about Mackiel. He couldn’t best him. Varin was dead, whether he gave away my location or not.

“I told you I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he said, his fingers tapping on the table. “So, before I lose my temper, which is never pretty, tell me where Keralie is.”

“I don’t know,” Varin said. “I recorded the memories, and she took off. She didn’t want anything more to do with me. Or you.” It sounded like something I would do.

But Mackiel knew me too well. “What did you give her in return?” he asked.

Damn it. Damn him! He’d created me and knew exactly how to destroy me. Stupid, stupid. Mackiel was a child of greed and deception; how could I expect loyalty from someone bred from such darkness?

Varin’s voice broke when he replied, “What do you mean?”

Mackiel laughed and I could picture him putting his hands behind his head and his feet on the chair next to him. The image of control.

“What. Did. You. Give. Her. In. Return,” he replied, drawing each word out. “Keralie does nothing without gain. She’s always been that way, ever since I met her. So what was it?”

Varin didn’t reply.

Mackiel took a deep breath. “I know more about my dippers than they know about themselves. And I know more about Keralie than any of the others. When I met Keralie, she was a scraggly girl of only ten. You wouldn’t have looked at her twice. But now? She’s a shining star. The moon on a clear night. The sun on a summer’s day. You can’t not look at her. And even an Eonist has to see that. Aside from her face, her beauty, there’s one thing that makes the girl who she is. It’s her family.” He laughed. “Oh, I’d like to take credit for it all, but there’s no denying we’re all a product of our upbringing. No one more than Keralie. Perhaps you wouldn’t defend her if you knew the truth?”

I wanted Varin to tell him to shut up, but he said nothing. Coward.

“Keralie is the spitting image of her father,” Mackiel continued. “Of course she doesn’t see that, but everyone else does—or did. They’re both incredibly stubborn.” His voice hardened. “Did she tell you what happened to him?”

No. I bit the inside of my lip. Don’t tell him. Stop!

The walls of the incinerator shimmered. My head grew feverishly hot. Black spots filled my vision. I was moments from passing out.

“No,” Varin said. “She said she had a happy childhood.”

“Had?” Mackiel asked. “Yes. Until she ruined everything.” He paused for dramatic effect. Bastard. He was enjoying this performance. “Keralie is like her father: intelligent, determined, ambitious. But she never wanted to follow in the family business. While the sea called to her father, the Jetée calls to Keralie.” I could hear the grin lining his voice. “But her father refused to give up, making her join him on his journeys to Archia, hoping she would warm to the ways of the ocean. One afternoon, while upon the water, Keralie decided to force her father to give up on her and allow her to be who she wanted to be.”

What do you want to do, Keralie? Who you do you want to be?

I pressed my hands against my ears. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to remember. But I couldn’t block out Mackiel’s words, or the memories of my father’s terrified face, the blood and the fear.

“But how do you force your parents, the people who have loved you, raised you and sheltered you your entire life, to give up on you?” Mackiel asked.

Varin didn’t offer an answer.

“You turn into the darkness,” Mackiel said. “You show them you are beyond their reach. Beyond saving.”

No. I couldn’t breathe, nothing but dust and rubble in my lungs.

“Keralie was steering her parents’ boat,” Mackiel continued. When would he stop? “Her father no doubt thought he’d already turned her face toward clearer skies. Then he realized they were sailing too close to the cliffs.”