Four Dead Queens(54)

Why are you sad? the curling script had asked.

The next day, Lyker had found a scrunched-up piece of paper in his left shoe. How she’d managed to put it there, he never found out. But he would never forget her words.

I’m the next Ludist queen.

He had sought her out at school, wiping her weeping eyes with his sleeve. “Cheer up, Stess,” he’d said. “You’re still you. You’re still my best friend.” She’d cried harder then, wrapping her arms around his lanky frame.

She told him about Queenly Law and how she would be required to leave her old life behind and never look back.

He’d squeezed her tighter then. “I’ll come with you,” he’d said, not understanding how difficult that would be. “You can never get rid of me.”

She had smiled, flashing the gap between her teeth.

And in the years when their friendship had turned into love, their messages were essential.

Stessa’s parents had warned against forming close ties, as it would only make it harder to leave. But they didn’t understand; anytime she thought of leaving her home, her friends, her family, she would break. And only Lyker knew how to put her back together with his smiles and silly jokes.

Everyone treated her like the future queen she would one day be, but Lyker always treated her like the girl she’d always been. The girl who wanted to sit by the canals and write music. The girl who wanted to attend all the parties, her makeup perfectly applied, dressed in the fanciest of dresses. The girl who wanted to enjoy everything her quadrant had to offer. A life of color, laughter and love.

And she wanted to share that life with Lyker. A boy who saw the world as she did: something to revel in. He was the center of any party, the teller of tales and the heart of every warm touch. His artwork decorated many Ludist streets; even when Stessa walked alone, she was surrounded by his presence.

When Stessa’s birth mother, the queen of Ludia, had died, fifteen-year-old Stessa had reluctantly traveled to the palace, leaving a brokenhearted Lyker behind. She swore their separation would be temporary. She would find a way to bring him to the palace.

In the five weeks they were parted, Stessa wrote herself letters, hiding them around the palace, pretending they were from her lost love. They made her happy, until she realized she might never see Lyker’s fluid writing again, never hear his low laugh or feel his hand in hers.

Stessa was not a violent person. Nor was she ruthless. But she had to be ruthless, one time, if she wanted to be reunited with her love.

She had quickly surmised it was the advisors who had the most contact with the queens, who were almost always by their sides. Her advisor, Demitrus, was an old man in his seventies and, in Stessa’s eyes, ready to retire. At his age, to fall ill would not be suspicious. She checked all the Ludist perfumes and products she’d been allowed to bring into the palace. Most were safe, simply root dyes and natural minerals. But there was one that warned against ingestion: Stessa’s hair dye. She didn’t know how much to put in his drink. To be safe, she emptied half the bottle.

She had wanted only to make him ill; she never expected there to be piqberry in the dye, which was commonly used in acidic cleaners.

Demitrus was sent to the Eonist Medical Facility to be monitored. Doctors thought he would pass away, and perhaps that would’ve been kinder. Instead, he spent his days coughing up blood, while his family argued their case for him to be bumped up on the waiting list for HIDRA. But there were more dire cases than his, and so they waited for next year’s dose or perhaps the year after.

Stessa had been tormented by her guilt, unwilling to venture out of her room for days. Everyone thought she merely wept for the man who had been kind to her during her first few weeks in the palace. When the queens told her the time had come to choose a new advisor, Stessa had asked for someone closer to her age to ensure the situation with Demitrus could not be repeated. The queens had been sympathetic, especially Queen Marguerite, who had immediately taken a shine to the young queen.

Stessa had recorded a message to be displayed on the Queenly Reports, asking for any Ludists with political aspirations to come to the palace. She knew Lyker would be watching for any sign from her. Within days, the applicants arrived for further assessment. Lyker was the first to step forward. She’d been shocked, and hadn’t recognized him at first with his signature tattoos covered by long black sleeves. He looked a shadow of himself, all color stripped away. Still, he was there. And when his gaze caught hers, his smile was blinding.

After a week of pretending to assess the other hopefuls, Stessa declared Lyker to be the next Ludist advisor-in-training. Once he’d moved into the palace, he made up for lost time; his first letter slipped into her throne between the padded armrest and wooden frame.

And although they spent nearly every waking moment together as advisor and queen, Lyker continued to hide messages for her, to remind her that he would always be by her side. And to remind her she was still Stessa. The girl he loved.

After a few months, the letters had stopped, and Stessa worried Lyker was no longer interested in her, perhaps too distracted by the power of his position as advisor-in-training. When she’d asked why, the reason had been simple. He’d discovered that the palace guards checked the trash. At night, Lyker drew his words of love onto Stessa’s skin with his fingers so no one would ever find them.

Stessa wondered why Lyker had requested her presence now. She hadn’t heard any news about the assassin; it was too soon for the palace to have been reopened.