Four Dead Queens(62)

After arriving at the palace, she had visited her mother in the infirmary. Corra held her mother’s limp hand and whispered her words back to her. “I promise to be patient. To be calm. To be selfless. And rule with a steady hand. A steady heart.” Tears fell down Corra’s cheeks then. “I love you, Mother.” She buried her face against her mother’s side to hide her tears.

When she left the palace infirmary, she promised to leave her sadness behind.

But it wasn’t as easy with Iris. And now Stessa.

Corra wanted to disappear. More than that, she wanted to be able to grieve, hurt—feel like everyone else. She hated how she dishonored Iris with every glib response.

How much longer could she keep the mask in place? And what was the point? Her life was at stake, as was Marguerite’s.

Corra acknowledged the two guards posted outside her room before retiring. Sitting upon her bed, Corra let out an exhausted sigh.

A strange wailing, like an injured animal, echoed down the hallway. Corra thought of Lyker, shattered in his grief. He’d never be able to scrub the image of a limp and lifeless Stessa from his mind. Corra was glad she hadn’t seen Iris that way; she’d turned her head when the body had passed during the death processional. It allowed her to hold on to the last image of her love, vibrantly alive, doing what she did best: ruling.

Corra would never wish the agony of losing a loved one upon anyone, not even an enemy. Not that Corra had enemies, but who else could be killing the queens other than some vile and unseen adversary?

Perhaps the assassin had been sent from across the seas? Hired by a rival nation who wished to see Quadara fall. But what nation? There’d never been any international rivalry, only the Quadrant Wars.

“What would you do?” Corra whispered to the silence, hoping Iris was watching from above. “What would you do if you were still here? Would you flee the palace to save your life?” She grinned in the dark. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You’d stay. You’d fight.”

A sob gurgled in her throat. “Why didn’t you fight? Why did you let them snuff you out as though you were nothing? A flame in the darkness. Nothing more than anyone else.” She shook her head. “But you were everything. I don’t understand.”

Her fractured heart pricked. She flopped onto her back, allowing her tears to freely roll across her cheeks.

“If I leave, I lose my throne. If I stay, I might lose my life.” She rubbed her hand over her face. “What would you want me to do?” They were two very different things, what Iris would do and what Iris would want her to do.

“You told me we were in this together.” She turned her face into her pillow and cried, the habit of hiding her emotions deeply ingrained. “Will I see you again?” she whispered. “Does the quadrant without borders exist for passed queens? Is that where we will be together? Together in the way we were never allowed to be in life?”

Corra’s questions would remain unanswered, though she hoped they were not unheard by the queens above.

A bang against the door had Corra shooting up from her bed.

“Who’s there?” she cried.

“Don’t worry, Queen Corra,” one of her guards called through the door. “We have the situation under control.”

“Let me in!” an angry voice wailed. “It was her—I know it was!”

Lyker.

“Stay back,” her guard warned.

There was a loud thump, then a groan.

“Stop!” Corra cried. She flung open her bedroom door. “Don’t hurt him!”

Lyker was on the ground, his nose streaming blood onto the polished marble floor. One of her guards had Lyker’s hands tied behind his back. The other guard was rubbing his purpling knuckles.

“Please,” she said to them. “He’s grieving over Queen Stessa.”

The guards, and Lyker, looked up at her in surprise. Lyker’s eyes were red; she was sure hers were too.

She stepped to the side. “Let him in.”

“Are you sure, Queen Corra?” one guard asked. He made no attempt to release Lyker. She nodded.

“You can leave,” she said to the guards after they hauled Lyker to his feet and shuffled him into her room. They looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Now,” she commanded.

“Yes, Queen Corra.” They bowed and left the room, but not without a lingering glance at Lyker.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him once they were alone. “You must be in a lot of pain.”

But Lyker didn’t look at her. He was staring at her bed and the tissues scattered across the blanket. Corra had forgotten to dispose of them in her incinerator.

“Lyker?” she asked after a long moment.

He finally glanced up, his face distorted in grief. “You did this.” His voice was low but strong, and different from the boy she’d seen earlier with Stessa. The light had been extinguished from his eyes, replaced by something sinister and wild.

He locked the door. Before she could ask what he was doing, he launched across the room. He propelled her into the wall, his hands around her throat. Her head smacked into the wood, sending fresh tears down her cheeks.

“Stop!”

But he was too strong, his anger too fierce. “You killed her! You killed her! You killed her!”