I nod and get up, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself.
The king escorts me back to my room, which surprises me. I’d assumed he’d send Marco or one of his other men to accompany me. Or that he’d lead me to his quarters. I can’t make sense of the king when he does something even slightly honorable.
Once we stop outside my room, the king brushes a kiss across my lips. “Feel better,” he says. And then he’s gone.
Chapter 7
Serenity
Four years ago the western hemisphere went dark.
I was doing rounds when it happened. I sat in the back of a military issued vehicle, a gun slung across my body.
An older bunker member—a retired colonel—sat up front, driving the car around the perimeter. It had been a quiet night. Usually at least one incident cropped up during my shifts, but tonight I seemed to be getting a break. My gaze drifted up to the night sky. I searched for my favorite constellations, but light pollution from the nearby city of Annapolis obscured them.
My eyes had only just begun to travel back to my surroundings when the sky lit up. It flashed, blindingly bright, turning night into day. Then the light shrank away.
Another bomb.
“Shit.”
Less than a minute later I heard the blast. It sounded like the devil was shouting, like he was going to consume me and the earth. The wave of energy hit me, throwing me back into the bed of the vehicle. Beneath me the earth shivered, and the car engine faltered, the front lights flickering before it decided it wasn’t going to die after all.
And then there was silence. Ominous silence.
“What in the fucking hell … ? Serenity, you okay?” the colonel shouted back to me.
“I’m fine,” I said, pushing myself upright.
By chance my gaze fell on Annapolis. The city, which only a moment ago had been ablaze in light, was dark.
I beat the colonel to the radio. “A bomb’s been dropped. Repeat: a bomb’s been dropped.”
I was so shaken that it took me a moment to realize the message hadn’t gone through; the radio was off. I went to click it on, only to find that it had already been on. I glanced back up at where Annapolis should be. Now it was shrouded in shadow.
Later I learned that King Lazuli had detonated several nuclear bombs high above the WUN’s territories. The explosions had released EMP pulses that took out all electronics that weren’t heavily shielded from them.
Most electricity. Many cars. Virtually all mobile devices. Nearly every computer. All snuffed out. Only the bunker and a few other heavily fortified locations—most belowground—survived the EMP pulse unscathed.
The rest of the WUN got set back decades that day.
Bright rays of sunlight wake me. I wince at the sight of them and rub my eyes. My head pounds once, then a few seconds later it pounds again, and again. A horrible headache blossoms, worsening with each passing second. All I want is to fall back asleep, but the churning pain in my stomach has me throwing off my covers and running for the bathroom.
I lift the lid of the toilet and vomit. My stomach spasms while I bend over, letting me know it’s only just warming up. I spend the next thirty minutes huddled around the porcelain bowl, retching until there is nothing left in my stomach. I flush it all down, pretending that last night’s wine is responsible for the crimson tint of the water.
I feel weak, and my head is screaming at me. I might as well have drunk poison last night; it would have the same effect on me. I push myself to my feet and lean over the sink to catch my breath. I wonder briefly if the king also feels this way.
My skin heats at the thought of him. Last night I got to know him too well. We shared secrets, drank wine, kissed.
Oh God, I’m going to see him soon.
And that’s when I notice it. The strange silence of my suite. Surely my father would’ve poked his head in by now. I haven’t seen him since I left last night.
I pad back into my room and take another look out my window. It’s late morning, but that can’t be right, not unless …
A sick feeling that has nothing to do with my hangover washes over me. Did I sleep through the negotiations?
I cross the room and fling open my door. In the common area a lone WUN soldier waits.
He sees my face. “The king requested that the remainder of the negotiations be done without your attendance,” he explains.
“What? Why would he do that?” I ask, furrowing my brows. My worry is quickly morphing into a more familiar emotion. Anger.
The guard shrugs. “You’re probably doing your job a little too well.”
I give the soldier a sharp look, and he holds up his hands.
“All I’m saying is that the king probably wants to make sure he’s still in control of the situation. Having you there might affect his decisions.”
Because one really shouldn’t mix business and pleasure. And last night I established that I was here for the king’s pleasure.
The guard is still talking, but I can’t hear him over the noise in my head. I leave him, slamming the door to my room a little harder than I had intended.
I clench my hands. I want to scream—no I want to hurt something. I want to slam my fist against skin until it bruises.
The king wasn’t drunk like I was last night. No, he’s been busy orchestrating a plan of his own. One where he makes no consolations to the WUN, or to me, or to my father.
Just like I had hoped last night, my hatred is back; however, what stokes it is not my country’s wrath, but my own.
I’ve only been awake an hour when I hear a knock on the door. The WUN soldier answers it before I do.
“The king wishes to deliver a present to Miss Freeman,” I hear someone say on the other side of the door.
That’s all I need to hear. “Don’t bother taking the gift,” I yell at the soldier. “I won’t accept it.”