Four Dead Queens(4)
An utter waste of Marguerite’s time, Iris thought. She snapped her gaze to her sister queen. “This doesn’t concern you, Marguerite.” Her tone was forgiving, though; meddling was in the Torian queen’s nature.
Marguerite tucked a graying curl of auburn hair behind her ear. “You’ll remember I asked Corra to have her doctors develop an inoculation to prevent the blood plague from spreading further. Sometimes we must bend the rules, but not break them.”
Iris tilted her head to see Corra’s braided black hair, tied up in the common Eonist way, her gold crown gleaming against her dark brown skin. But the twenty-five-year-old queen of Eonia did not glance back at the mention of her scientists. Stessa, however, the queen of Ludia, looked over and grimaced, as though Iris was annoying her. She probably was, for everything Iris said or did seemed to annoy the sixteen-year-old queen.
“An entirely different situation,” Iris said to Marguerite, ignoring Stessa’s glare. “The plague threatened to wipe out your people. The inoculation was a one-off intervention; it did not significantly alter your quadrant. Even if I allowed machinery for a short amount of time, how would we return to our old ways? I can’t risk it.”
Marguerite gave her an understanding, but amused, smile, as though she thought Iris was being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.
“No,” Iris said, turning her attention back to the Archian governor. “Electricity is not from our quadrant; therefore, we shall never have it. We will not be aided by machines and their automatic witchery.”
Iris had seen what technology had done to Eonia, and she would not have the same happen to her quadrant. With their mostly frozen and inhospitable land in the far north of the nation, Eonia had no option but to focus solely on technological advancements, and even genetic alteration, to survive. In turn, they had lost a part of their humanity. Or so Iris thought. She couldn’t help but look at Corra once more.
Iris did not miss the governor’s glance to the string of electrical chandeliers hanging in the four passages that led to the central throne room. Iris knew it appeared as though she enjoyed the pleasures of all the quadrants, but the governor didn’t know that Iris still read by candlelight and bathed in the natural warm springs in her private garden rather than use the palace’s heated water system. She wasn’t about to discuss her hygiene regimen with him.
When he failed to respond, Iris raised a brow and asked, “Anything further?”
The governor shook his head.
“Good,” she replied. “And if anyone wishes to quarrel with my decision, then they know where to find me. The palace is always open to my people.”
With that, she stood and stepped down from the dais, leaving court to her sister queens.
* * *
—
IRIS DECIDED TO SPEND the remainder of the day in her cultivated palace garden. Growing up, she had enjoyed countless hours in the immaculate grounds that surrounded her childhood home. It was there where she had imagined her reign and how she would rule an entire quadrant. Iris had been a solitary child, and while she had thought she’d prepared herself to be queen, she had not expected anyone could be capable of influencing her reign.
Or her heart.
The garden was located in the Archian section of the palace, split in four as the nation itself. The garden sat outside the golden dome, perched on the cliff overlooking the channel toward the neighboring isle of Archia. Long ago, one of her ancestors had demanded access to nature—to life. Queenly Law decreed the queens were never to leave the palace—for their safety and to ensure they weren’t moved by external influences.
Iris would never set foot in her quadrant again, never soak in the beauty of Archia or see the stags and deer roam the mountains.
She sat back in her wooden settee; it sank into the grass while her black skirt swallowed the frame. She removed her heavy crown and placed it on the table beside her. She tilted her head, enjoying the sunlight on her pale skin. The warm springs bubbled nearby, reminiscent of the gentle brook that trickled not far from her childhood home.
This would have to do.
Also dictated by Queenly Law, Iris had been raised by adoptive parents outside the palace in the region she would one day rule. But while she’d been raised in a humble stone cottage, she’d never wanted for anything. She didn’t know how to want for things she’d never seen, never experienced. She learned all she could about her land, the animals and her people. And Quadara’s dark past.
Archia had been an untouched refuge from the nation’s troubles for hundreds of years; in fact, it wasn’t until Toria had built their boats and traveled to the west that the lush island was discovered. The rest of the nation had grown desperate, their natural resources nearly depleted. And there was Archia, ripe for the taking.
While the distinct regions had each developed strengths and resources, they shared the same weakness. Jealousy.
And so began the Quadrant Wars. They lasted nearly a decade, with thousands of lives lost. During this time, the other regions attempted to conquer Archia. But their plans were foolish. As rearing livestock was foreign to Eonists, Torians grew restless and wanted to discover new lands, and Ludists didn’t want to dirty their elaborate outfits by tending to the crops.
Then the founding queens of Quadara built the walls to separate the regions, finally ending the Quadrant Wars. The walls provided space to breathe, allowing the quadrants to continue to evolve independently, and harmoniously.