Four Dead Queens(72)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT





Keralie



No one had moved inside the processing room, but someone had passed out cylinders of water, Eonist food bars and blankets. They weren’t leaving this room anytime soon.

The guards continued to watch the crowd, their faces blank. I didn’t know when the assassin would strike next. I had to act. Now.

I held the device to my mouth.

“Queen Iris is dead,” I said in a low, authoritative tone. “All of you are to remain in the processing room until we capture the assassin.” I paused to let that sink in. “We believe they may be in this room. We will not let them get away.” I paused again, this time for dramatic effect. “Do not panic.”

That was enough. Anyone who was sitting flew to their feet, faces flushing, mouths popping open in shock. Others bustled toward the guards, seeking answers. Everyone was shouting or screaming or fainting.

People pushed in on the guards, their voices and fists raised in anger and outrage.

“Is it true?” one person asked.

“Queen Iris dead. How?” another cried.

“An assassin? In this room? Let us out!”

“I don’t want to die!”

“Stay calm.” The guards used their own amplifiers and pushed back against the horde with their batons. Some raised destabilizers in warning. “Stay back!” But they wouldn’t listen. The crowd was an ember within a box of matches and there was no undoing the flame.

The perfect distraction.

I scrambled out of the vent.

“Queen Iris was murdered the way we saw it.” I slid in beside Varin, my voice low in his ear. “Exactly the same way.”

His eyes shot to mine. “That was you?” His shoulders lowered, and he appeared relieved to see me.

I held up the amplifier. “People deserve to know the truth.”

He pressed his full lips together as though he didn’t quite believe my reasoning.

I scanned the embittered and enraged crowd. I almost felt bad for creating such chaos. “What have I missed?”

“They’ve been releasing people one by one.” Varin nodded to the heavily guarded exit on the right side of the room.

I raised my eyebrows. “They’re interrogating them, not releasing them. That’s why we’re here. The guards think they’ve captured the assassin.”

“But you don’t,” he said without question.

“No. He’s too smart for that.”

“You really think the assassin is Mackiel, don’t you? What about his hands?”

I swallowed roughly. “Then his henchmen are doing the dirty work, as usual. He’s at the center of this, I know it.” He’d do anything to save the Jetée and his father’s business. Was killing the other queens just a diversion? So no one would suspect a Torian?

Varin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What are you planning now?”

“Who says I’m planning anything?” I broke a piece off his food bar and took a pull of water from his cylinder. My stomach gurgled in response, annoyed I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I took a longer pull. Varin watched my lips cover the spout.

“I know that look on your face,” he said.

I swallowed. “Okay, you’re right. I’m going back out there to find our murdering friend.”

“You’re going to leave me behind again?”

I patted him on the shoulder. “You find out all you can from here. The palace guards are your people. Surely you can make something of that?”

“Are you giving me a choice?”

What needed to be done required a thief, not a messenger. “You use your skills. I’ll use mine.”

Without waiting for his reply, I pushed back into the crowd.



* * *



—

QUIET HAD CREPT upon the palace, as darkness crept upon the short winter’s day. The openings to the dome overhead darkened to a rich amber; the queens would soon retire to their chambers. If the henchmen were behind these killings, then I needed a better disguise. And while I was good at skulking around undetected, it would be better if I weren’t wearing a dress stained with blood from my split knee. In case someone found me.

Varin was right; I needed a dermasuit. And I knew of a place where I’d definitely find one. Queen Corra’s rooms.

After an hour of slinking through the hallways, I noticed a pattern; the building was split in four, like Quadara itself. As I continued toward the east, the furniture became sparse—more practical and less frivolous and plush. Fewer chandeliers dangled from the gilded ceiling; they were replaced by cords of blue lights inset into the walls. It was like walking through a moonlit cavern. They were Eonist lights—drawing power from fibers embedded into the surface of the golden dome that absorbed the sun’s rays.

As I rounded the corner, I saw two guards standing on either side of an entranceway. It was the first door I’d encountered with some kind of security. It had to be the entrance to Queen Corra’s rooms. I slipped into the adjacent hallway and found what I was looking for. A vent. I unclasped my lock pick from my bracelet and made quick work of the screws.

Once the vent was open, I slipped into the room, silent as a shadow.