Four Dead Queens(80)
When Arebella had learned the truth from this boy, she lamented the power that should’ve been hers. While she pouted and cried, he began scheming. He was good at that. In time, he helped Arebella realize her fate was in her own hands. She could go after the throne, if she desired it.
And she did. She wanted Toria as her own.
Arebella was obsessed with control. While she couldn’t often regulate her own thoughts, she could regulate Toria. She wanted to make the rules. Change the laws. And she wanted the throne that was her birthright. She wouldn’t allow her birth mother, who’d sent her away, to dictate her life.
But her plan didn’t begin with the idea of assassinating the queens. Even a ten-year-old Arebella wasn’t as diabolical as that. Instead, she used her curiosity, like any good Torian, to gather information. She sent out the boy to ask questions of anyone who could provide the right answers. It was imperative no one knew she was the source of the questions. Then no one would see her coming.
All Arebella had to do was be in the center of change. The center of the storm.
She was a bright girl. Too bright, if you asked her tutor. She had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, more than any Torian child. Once Arebella started asking questions, and received answers, she wouldn’t stop. Know everything, and you shall know all—a popular saying in Toria. And Arebella wanted to know all.
How do the queens inherit the throne?
How much control do the queens have over their quadrant?
What can the queens change?
What can’t they change?
What influence do the queens have over another queen’s quadrant?
She didn’t know how to stop asking. A question filled her head as soon as the last one exited.
For four years, she merely acquired information. When her adoptive mother died and she inherited what little money the old woman had saved, she began her ascension to the throne. She knew her presence alone would not inspire a revolution. Instead, she would need to make powerful allies. The boy helped connect her with others who wanted to bring down the Torian queen. The proprietors of the Jetée.
Arebella attended each monthly meeting, their angry words adding fuel to an ember flickering inside her. She was outraged by the squalor they lived in when the queens resided in such grandeur. When Queen Marguerite announced on the Queenly Reports that she planned to demolish the Jetée, Arebella knew she had to intervene. These were Torians, after all—her people. People she should be ruling.
Soon Arebella’s voice was the loudest in the revolt.
Arebella learned that Queenly Law dictated what could and couldn’t be shared between the quadrants, and those who lived and worked on the Jetée wanted to share everything. They wanted Eonist technology; they wanted the freshest Archian crops and the latest Ludist fashions and toys. But the queens would not allow that.
During these monthly meetings at the Jetée, Arebella’s focus widened past Toria’s borders and to the other quadrants. She realized it would not be enough to rule one quadrant.
But the information she’d gathered from the Jetée was limited, and biased. Arebella used what remained of her inheritance to hire a former palace handmaiden as a tutor. The woman didn’t know of Arebella’s true heritage. No one else did.
After a few lessons, Arebella asked the one question she desired the answer to the most: “Has there ever been only one queen of Quadara?” She had grown tired of hearing about the Quadrant Wars of long ago.
Her tutor stopped and looked at her. “No, Arebella. We’ve only had, and only will have, four rulers. One for each quadrant. In the early years of Quadara, there was one king, but the nation is most successful, and peaceful, when there are four queens. You know this.”
Arebella had shifted agitatedly in her chair. “Yes,” she replied, her dark brows lowering over her serious hazel eyes. “But has there ever been a time when there wasn’t anyone to inherit the throne?”
Her tutor had laughed, annoying Arebella further. “No. Since the inception of Queenly Law, we’ve always had four rulers. Ensuring the royal bloodline is of utmost importance to the queens.”
Arebella had pouted. “Could there be a time when there are less than four queens?”
Her tutor didn’t pause to consider why Arebella would ask such a thing, for she was used to her pupil’s relentless questions, so she answered truthfully. “I suppose, if something happened to a queen before she had a child and if all her female relatives had passed to the quadrant without borders, then that quadrant would be without a queen.”
Arebella had leaned forward in her chair. This is getting interesting, she’d thought. “Then what?”
Her tutor had looked through her for a moment, as though she weren’t sure of the answer, for there had never been such an awful occurrence. “The other queens would fill in for that quadrant, I believe, until a suitable queen is found.”
“The queens will inherit the power of the dead queen? They’ll take over her quadrant?”
“Yes.” Her tutor’s expression had faltered then. “But don’t worry, that’s very unlikely to happen.”
Arebella had been quiet for the remainder of the lesson, not listening to another word her tutor had said. The only thought running through her usually busy mind was that if all the queens were to die, the remaining queen would inherit their power and would rule all the quadrants. That queen could change not only Toria, but the entire nation, for the better. The queen could tear down the walls that separated the quadrants and prevented Quadarians from traveling and sharing resources as they pleased. Torians would then have access to all Eonist technologies and medicines to advance their cities and ensure another plague outbreak would not occur. They could visit Ludia for vacation and revel in the unlimited entertainment on offer. They could travel to Archia and eat produce fresh from the trees—not weeks-old apples imported from the lush isle.