Four Dead Queens(63)

“Queen Corra!” the guards thumped at her door. “Are you all right?”

No, she tried to say, but there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. Her chest heaved. Black began to blot her vision.

“Why?” he cried, slamming one fist into the wall beside her face. He was much larger than she was, the biceps in his upper arm keeping her in place. “Why?”

“Let us in!” The guards continued pounding on the door.

Corra kicked, but the lack of oxygen made her legs feel weightless, as though she were submerged in water. Was this how Stessa felt when she died? Her chest burning, her throat raw, her body powerless, her head light?

She hoped so, for it wasn’t too painful.

Lyker brought his face close to hers. Angry red flushed across his cheeks and neck, matching his hair. “You won’t see her there,” he said. Corra blinked. She didn’t know what he was talking about. His swollen eyes filled with tears. “You don’t deserve to be with her.” His chest shuddered. “I won’t let you.”

He pulled away, and Corra collapsed to the floor.

She sucked in a painful breath, her throat numb and searing at the same time.

Lyker towered over her, his hands in his hair. He let out an agonized wail.

“Queen Corra!” a guard called through the door. “What’s happening?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked. “We’re fine. I knocked over a lamp. That’s all.”

She crawled to her bed and pulled herself up by the blankets. Once she was sitting, she turned back to Lyker. He stared into the distance.

“I didn’t kill Stessa,” she said, hand at her burning throat. “I would never kill a sister queen.”

He flashed her a look. “We threatened you.”

Corra nodded. “You were scared. You wanted to protect . . .” She let out a ragged cough. “You wanted to protect your love. I understand.”

He barked a laugh. “An Eonist understands love. Right.”

“I loved Iris.” Corra gasped, then smiled through her tears. It was the first time she’d ever said it out loud. “I loved her.” She wanted to say it again and again, but it wouldn’t bring Iris back. Still, to say it brought a little light into the darkness of these days.

“I would kill for Stessa.” Lyker’s fists clenched by his sides. “You thought we’d killed Iris. Would you not kill for your love?”

Corra studied him. Clearly, the boy was broken, as broken as her heart. Would she have killed for Iris? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Iris had been her heart and now her heart was gone.

To kill for revenge was an act of the heart. No, she would not—and could not—kill for love.

“Come here,” she said, patting the space beside her.

Lyker looked as though she might pull a destabilizer on him. She shook her head. “I won’t hurt you.”

He approached her cautiously. When he reached the bed, she held out her hands. They were shaking.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “I’m sorry I thought you or Stessa were capable of such malice. Truly, I am.” She held her hand to her hidden watch. “But I would never hurt Stessa, or anyone she loved. This palace has always been my home, and anyone within it is family.” She had never spoken truer words. She wished Iris could see her courage.

“You’re not like other Eonists, are you?” He squinted at her.

Corra tried to laugh, but her throat wouldn’t allow it. “I think you’d be surprised by how much Eonists really feel.”

“I wish I couldn’t feel,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t loved her.”

“Loving someone means risking your heart being broken,” Corra said. “But those moments you are together triumph over any hardship.”

Lyker sat beside her. “I’m not sure I believe that. Not now.”

Corra knew how he felt; the pain was almost too much to bear. But then she thought of her mother. “In time, you will.”

He hung his head, his coiffed hair flopping forward. “I don’t know what to do without her. She’s the reason I’m here. She’s the reason for everything.”

“What did you want to do before this?” Corra gestured to the gold-adorned room around them. “What did you want for your life?” She was treading on shaky ground, as Eonists were not meant to question their future or want more. But she didn’t care. She needed to talk to someone about her grief.

“I don’t remember wanting anything more than I wanted Stessa,” he replied. Tears continued to stream down his face.

“But you had other passions?” Ludists were known for their wants and desires; surely there was something else.

Lyker studied his inked hands. “I wanted to be a world-renowned poet.”

“Ah,” Corra said. “And you gave it up for Stessa.”

“And I would again,” he said sternly, “if given another chance.”

“I would choose Iris again and again.”

They smiled at each other.

“You could leave,” she said. “You could return to your Ludist life.”

Lyker shook his head. “I can’t, not now. Stessa wanted to be queen, but she was willing to give up the throne for me, for my happiness. Now that she’s gone . . .” He swallowed roughly. “Now that she’s gone, I have to do right by her. I have to be here, ensure everything she wanted as a queen and for her quadrant is not forgotten.”