Four Dead Queens(59)

Marguerite raised her eyebrows. “You don’t suspect us?” Last she’d heard, they were the only suspects.

“No,” he said, and let out a small sigh. “With Queen Stessa’s death, it has become clear what is going on.”

Both the queens leaned forward, clinging to his every word as though they were life itself.

“This was not a vendetta against Queen Iris, but”—he cleared his throat—“I believe, a plan to rid Quadara of all its queens.”

Marguerite flinched. That couldn’t be right. “Why would anyone want us gone?” That would threaten Quadara’s very foundation.

The inspector snapped two long fingers at her. “That is what I am here to find out.”

Corra jumped up, startling Marguerite. “This is preposterous!” she said. “First Iris, now Stessa. You didn’t stop the assassin. Who’s to say he won’t target us next? You’ll have two more dead queens on your hands!”

Marguerite couldn’t help but gape at her sister queen. She’d never heard Corra raise her voice, let alone show any kind of anguish or frustration.

The inspector didn’t appear ruffled. “I understand you are worried—”

“Worried?” Corra huffed. “Iris was murdered! And now you’re telling us Stessa was purposely drowned and now . . . and now . . .” But she didn’t finish her sentence. “I’m sorry.” She returned to her seat, her hand at her throat. “It’s been a trying few days with little sleep. I don’t know what came over me.”

But Marguerite believed she’d seen the true Corra, the girl behind the rigid mask. And that girl hurt deeply. She took Corra’s hand in hers. “You don’t have to apologize, Corra,” she said. “We’re all allowed to grieve.”

Corra gave her a swift nod, but kept Marguerite’s hand.

“When did this happen, Inspector?” Marguerite asked. “What have you uncovered thus far?”

“Her body was found around thirty minutes ago.” Marguerite felt Corra tremble under her touch. She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “She was supposed to be in her room, resting. Her young advisor was the one to find her. By the time he arrived at the baths, she was already gone.”

“Lyker.” Corra sighed.

“Could he have done it?” Marguerite asked the inspector.

“His clothes were wet when he brought her to me, but he’d pulled Queen Stessa from the pool. It’s difficult to determine without further investigation.”

“No,” Corra butted in. “I don’t believe he would have.”

The inspector turned to her. “And why do you say that, my queen?”

“Because they loved each other,” she replied. Her eyes almost glistened.

Who was this girl who spoke of love? It was not an Eonist concept, Marguerite thought.

“How do you know this, my queen?” the inspector asked.

Corra pinned him with her dark eyes. “Because I walked into her room yesterday and found the two of them together.”

Marguerite gasped. Another Queenly Law broken. Was this why Stessa had pushed Marguerite away when Lyker had entered the palace, to protect her secret?

“Perhaps they had a fight?” he asked. “Most of the time, the murder victim knows their murderer.”

“No. They were not fighting.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t be certain, but I don’t believe he would’ve killed her.”

“But he still lied to me, which means—” the inspector began.

“Ludists are not killers, Inspector,” Marguerite said. “If Corra says they were in love, then I don’t believe he could’ve harmed her.”

“True, however, crimes of passion are not uncommon in Ludia,” the inspector said. “Yet, with Queen Iris’s murder, it is difficult to link the two killings to this young man, for what would he gain in that? Unless Iris knew about their relationship?”

Marguerite exchanged a glance with Corra, who shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

He nodded. “Still, I will speak with him again, but I doubt his involvement.”

“What do we do now?” Marguerite asked. She glanced at Corra. “Clearly the assassin is still roaming free. We are in danger if we stay.” She had never once thought of leaving the palace since the day she set foot inside it, even when Elias had been revealed as a fraud and a cheat and her whole world had fallen down upon her. The palace was where Marguerite was meant to be, and being queen was what she was born to do.

“We’re never to leave,” Corra said, looking up at the glass dome. “If we do, we’ll forfeit our throne, our reign tainted. We cannot have outside influence on our duties.”

“Perhaps that’s the assassin’s plan?” The inspector pressed a flag on his recorder. “He does not have to kill you all, merely drive you out of the palace. Yes, that could be it,” he said more to himself than the queens.

“Stessa also has no heir,” Marguerite murmured. “She was too young.”

“None of us do,” Corra reminded her. Marguerite failed to meet her eyes, feeling the truth would be pulled from her. Corra’s mother had been queen when Marguerite had fallen pregnant and supposedly lost her child. She knew nothing of Marguerite’s daughter hidden in Toria.