Four Dead Queens(74)

“You stole from the queen?” he hissed.

“You suggested it.”

“I did not!”

“You said I needed a dermasuit.”

“Keralie.” My name was a sigh on his lips.

I grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about Varin, the criminal mastermind.”

Varin ignored me and jerked his chin over to the palace guards who were wrestling back the front line of protesters. “They allowed me to look at the list of everyone who entered the palace before Queen Iris was murdered.”

“Mackiel?” I guessed.

“No.” Why was a part of me disappointed?

“Who else could it be?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. But we won’t find any answers in here.”

“We?” I asked. “Nuh-uh. You stay here.”

He stepped closer. “I’m not letting you back out there with an assassin on the loose.”

“Let me?” I crossed my arms. “No one lets me do anything. I do what I want, when I want.”

“Keralie. I’m worried about you.” I couldn’t deny the zing that shivered up my spine when he said my name paired with that intense expression on his face. “And I want to help. This is as much my quest as it is yours.”

“Varin,” I said, putting the same resolution into my voice. “You are too big and too broad to fit in that ventilation shaft. You will get us noticed, and arrested.”

“I’m a messenger,” he said. “It’s my job to move quickly and quietly. And I can get us out of here without having to squeeze into that shaft.”

“Sure.” I snorted. “What’s your genius plan, then?”

“Ask to be released.”

“You’re serious?” I studied his face. “Who am I kidding? You’re always serious.”

He held up a gloved hand. “Keep quiet, all right?”

“Why?”

“Because while you might look Eonist, that”—he pointed to my mouth—“is far from it.”

I opened my mouth to argue but shrugged. He was right.

“Come with me,” he said. I gestured I’d keep my mouth shut. This one time.

Varin approached a palace guard, who was speaking into a comm line in low tones. I wished I could hear the voice at the other end. Were they any closer to capturing the assassin? And if they did, what would that mean for me? For us?

“Christon,” Varin said to the guard. “This is my colleague, Keralie.” Christon looked over to me; I expected his expression to shift, but he gave me a stiff nod. “She has experience in dealing with criminals.”

I covered my laugh with a cough. Varin shot me a warning glance before continuing, “We think we can help in the investigation. But we’ll need further access to the palace.”

Christon studied me with his brown eyes—not pale like Varin’s—and I held my breath. Be Eonist, Keralie. Emotionless. Numb.

“How can a messenger help?” Although Christon’s tone was neutral, it was a cruel thing to say.

“Christon and I grew up together,” Varin said, as though that would explain Christon’s rudeness.

“Actually, Varin is no longer a messenger,” I said. So much for staying quiet. I wouldn’t allow Varin to be belittled. “He’s leading the investigation in taking down Toria’s notorious criminal district. The Jetée, you’ve heard of it?”

Christon shot a confused look to Varin. “But he was trained as a messenger.”

“True. But his skills extend beyond delivering comm cases or merely standing guard like a statue.” Careful, Keralie; don’t get personal. “This was recognized by his boss, and he was given a rare chance for promotion. He works for Queen Marguerite now.”

Varin shifted beside me, but I wouldn’t let him ruin this with the truth.

“Varin leads the team,” I said. “I follow.” I tried not to laugh.

Christon asked Varin, “Is this true?”

Varin could let my story fall apart; he could continue to be Eonist and tell the truth. Or he could want more. For himself.

“It is,” Varin said, squaring his shoulders.

I wanted to clap Varin on the back and throw my arms around him. Instead, I gave Varin a simple nod.

“All right,” Christon said, clearly surprised. “I suppose the inspector could use the help.”

“The inspector?” Varin asked.

“Inspector Garvin,” Christon clarified.

“Of course,” Varin said, although something flittered behind his stoic expression. “We’ll report anything we uncover.”

Christon escorted us to the exit of the processing room and nodded to the guard at the door to release us. Once we were alone in the palace corridors, I whirled on Varin.

“You did it!”

“We did it,” he said. He seemed excited by the deception, although I doubted he’d admit that.

“What was that about the inspector?”

“I checked the list of everyone who entered the palace before Queen Iris died.” He scratched his jaw, which was sporting a nice smattering of dark stubble. “Inspector Garvin was not on that list.”