Four Dead Queens(96)

Arebella pursed her lips to stop a smile. “Keralie, don’t you think it’s time you accept the truth?”

When Keralie didn’t reply, Arebella turned on her heel and headed toward the stairs.

“Good-bye, Keralie.” And thank you. “May the other queens meet you in the quadrant without borders.” Together, yet apart. She grinned. “And let them have their revenge.”





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE





Keralie



Later that day, I received another visitor. One who had me hissing and spitting like the stray cat I’d attempted to pick up outside the auction house when I was a child.

“Get away from me!” I cried as Mackiel closed the prison door behind him and walked down the stairs toward my cell. “Guards!” For once I wanted them down here. “Guards!”

“Calm, calm, darlin’,” he said, voice as soothing as ever as he approached. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Why are you still here?” I asked. “You got what you wanted!” Queen Marguerite was dead; the Jetée would live on, his business was safe.

“Why would I leave?” He squared his shoulders. “I’ve been invited to remain in the palace by my dear friend Queen Arebella. I will be her royal confidant.”

I shook my head. I’d never heard her name before I met her this morning.

“Oh yes,” he said, reading the confusion on my face. “We’ve been friends for many years.” He gripped two of the bars, his hands unbandaged. And healed. I gasped.

“Oh, you noticed?” He wiggled his fingers at me. “I was granted permission by our lovely new queen to use a dose of HIDRA. This year’s dose. Aren’t I lucky?” He grinned.

I fought the urge to scream. My father was on the verge of death, Varin would be killed at thirty for going blind, and Mackiel was granted a precious dose of HIDRA? It wasn’t right.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked. “You’re stuck here, not long till your hanging, so why not?” He shrugged his narrow shoulders.

I pressed my lips together. I didn’t want to know anything Mackiel offered willingly. It would only be a trick.

“Do you know why HIDRA is so rare?”

I didn’t reply.

“HIDRA was once a woman. But she wasn’t only a woman, she was a doctor. A tweaked doctor.”

A woman? If a doctor could cure every injury and disease, why didn’t she help more than one person a year?

When I said nothing, he fluttered a hand at me. “I know what you’re thinking, like my henchmen, but no. She was something else.” He grinned. “She was tweaked so she could work with the sick and diseased but never fall ill. One day, she helped remove a shard of glass from someone’s abdomen, but it sliced her hand open in the process. Her blood dripped into the patient’s wound. And bam”—he clapped his hands together—“the wound began to heal.” His smile was as slow as my prison days were long.

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t respond. I wouldn’t let him see how his words hurt me.

“Sadly,” he said without any sadness, “she died many years ago. But before she was buried, her blood was drained.” He studied his hands. “They tried replicating it, but all tests failed. Instead, they diluted her blood to create more doses. But few treatments remain, and I doubt they’ll help a criminal and an assassin.”

My back hit the far wall of the cell as I scrambled away from him.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” he commented on my rags. “Though I can’t say the color does much for your complexion.”

“Leave me alone,” I said. “I have more important things to do today.”

“I suppose you do.” He sighed, then tugged at his collar. “My lovely Kera, how I wish everything had turned out differently.”

“Differently?” I snarled. “You framed me! You were behind all of this, and your henchmen did the dirty work, as they always do. Today I’ll die instead of you.”

“Me?” He pointed a ringed finger at his chest. “Oh no, I didn’t kill the queens. Neither did the henchmen. They’re back in Toria minding the auction house while I’m here. I thought we’d worked this out? I’ll be clearer. You”—he pointed at me—“murdered the queens.”

“No one’s here, Mackiel. Cut the bullshit.”

“Darlin’, you’re wrong. On many levels. And I do wish everything had turned out differently; I never planned for you to be caught. That was your boyfriend’s fault.” His eyes turned steely at the word. Hatred slithered under his skin, close to being exposed, the true Mackiel hiding below the charming surface. “He’d told the inspector about you before I arrived. I had to change my plans.”

“You admit it, then?” Finally, someone was speaking the truth. “You planned this? You bribed Varin?”

“Yes and no.” He tilted his head; his bowler hat had been replaced with a golden top hat—it didn’t suit him. “I was involved, but I didn’t bribe Varin. And I really didn’t want you to be caught. I’ve invested far too much time and money in you to watch you die. Even after our little squabble.” He twisted his hands in the low light as though he was checking for imperfections.