Four Dead Queens(84)

I pressed my cheek against Varin’s chest. He smelled of pine and soap—the scent of his dermasuit. My eyes stung, and I squeezed them tight.

I never thought I’d be touched like this again.

“We don’t have time for this.” I reluctantly pulled away. “Queen Marguerite is the only queen left, and we know the least about her death.”

He nodded slowly. “Only that she’ll be poisoned.”

“Right. We don’t know anything more about the assassin than we did before entering the palace. It’s almost been two days.” Varin had been right all along; we should’ve gone directly to the authorities with what we knew, regardless of the consequences. We didn’t have proof, but we could still save Queen Marguerite. “We have to stop this.”

“It’s not your job to save the queens,” he said. “It’s not your job to save anyone.”

I knew who he was referring to. I jerked away. “What would you know?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’ve never loved anyone. How would you know what it’s like to hurt someone you love? Don’t tell me what to feel!”

His eyes flashed. “I know what it’s like to be hurt.”

“Because of your death date?” I harrumphed. “You think your own demise is painful? Imagine the feeling of being responsible for someone else’s.” I shook my head. “It’s worse, much, much worse. If I don’t get a dose of HIDRA for my father, then he’s—”

“What?” he interrupted. “You never said anything about HIDRA. I thought you wanted money!”

I threw up my hands. “I lied, okay! Are you really that surprised? All I do is lie and cheat and steal. I’m not that different from Mackiel. He made me, remember?”

“Keralie.” My name was a groan on his lips. “You should’ve told me the truth.”

“I didn’t want you to know we were both after the same thing. You might have turned me in to get what you want.” It sounded ridiculous out loud. Varin was loyal, he’d proven that time and time again, even when I’d stolen from him, insulted him and dragged him into this mess.

“I wouldn’t have turned you in,” he said. “I would’ve allowed you to take the dose of HIDRA to your father. He needs it.”

Well, that made me feel worse.

I smiled sadly. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your future for mine—or my father’s.”

“Mackiel said your father was in a coma?” he asked, and I nodded. “Then his situation is more dire than mine. It’s the right thing to do.”

“What’s your condition?” It was the question I should’ve asked when he’d first mentioned it. The question he avoided back in the infirmary. “Why is your death date set to thirty? Why do you need HIDRA?”

He surprised me by not flinching. “I’m going blind.”

I gasped, my hand flying to my chest.

“I have a rare genetic condition,” he said. “It’s degenerative. I already struggle to see in bright sunlight and at nighttime, and my peripheral vision isn’t great.” He swallowed roughly. “I’ll be completely blind by the time I’m thirty.”

“But your eyes are beautiful.” Stupid Keralie. Such a stupid thing to say.

He smiled. “A symptom of the condition.”

“But HIDRA will cure it?” I asked.

“My condition has never been urgent enough to bump me up on the waiting list to be assessed. It’s not like I’m dying. At least, not right now.” One side of his mouth lifted.

Somehow it hurt even more that he was trying to make a joke about this.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning. But I’m not good at trusting others. Look at Mackiel.” I let out a hollow laugh. “He was my closest friend, and he’s tried to kill me. Twice.”

He looked at me for a long moment. “You can trust me.”

“Yes. Because you’re Eonist. You’re good, loyal, understanding, selfless, honest.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You can trust me because I’m your friend, Keralie. And real friends, friends who care about each other, don’t lie.”

I wanted to believe that, but I’d been burned before. Perhaps Mackiel had stolen my ability to care. Perhaps I’d become the girl he’d trained me to be. And there was no undoing it.

“Do you think people can change?” I asked. “Or do you think we’re destined to follow a certain path?”

Varin sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. I’d never seen him this ragged, tortured. I didn’t want to hurt him with my words, but I had.

“I have to believe that we can change. I have to believe I can be more than a messenger, more than my quadrant requires of me, more than my death date. And you,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “make me believe that my dreams of more are not in vain. That I can go after what I want. Even if only for a short amount of time.”

His art. Queens above. Now it made sense that he’d never tried to pursue his dreams, for it would all be cruelly snatched away. Never to paint again. Once he lost his vision, the one thing that brought joy to his life would be impossible.

My heart constricted, and tears filled my eyes. “I want to believe there’s more for you,” I said. “For both of us.”