I rip my mouth from his. “We can’t do this right now.”
The king’s eyebrows rise, and he smirks like I’m funny. “We’re the rulers of the entire world; we can do whatever it is we want.”
“But I still want to punch you in the face.”
The king clucks his tongue. “My queen has never heard of angry sex. I think a woman like you would enjoy it.”
The door we exited from opens. “Your Majesty, the Resistance just raided one of the warehouses of our weapons supplier. They took most of the armaments stored inside, including technology that hasn’t officially hit the market.”
Montes curses. His hold tightens on me before he releases me—though not completely. His hand slides down my arm and clasps my hand. He begins walking, tugging me along behind him.
I halt in my tracks, causing Montes to glance back at me. “I don’t want you to hurt Ronaldo.”
If I’m conceding something by returning to the king’s conference room, then he’s going to have to concede something, his earlier words be damned.
Montes narrows his eyes. “That man was the one who coordinated the atomic blasts that destroyed your nation all those years ago.”
The news is a slap in the face.
“Still want to save him?” the king presses.
My throat constricts, but I force my words out. “Killing him will not resurrect my people.”
The king tilts his head, like he has all the time in the world to ponder my request. “I know what you’re doing, Serenity,” he says, finally. “He’ll return unharmed if you come with me and assist us with intel on the Resistance. If you don’t, I can promise you that you’ll never see Ronaldo again.” I can see it in his eyes too; he’ll end that man’s life.
Bastard. Now look who’s blackmailing whom.
“Deal?” He smiles like the devil he is.
I run my tongue over my teeth and nod. “Deal.”
I spend the rest of the day and well into the evening discussing what I know of the inner workings of the Resistance. My words will jeopardize hundreds of Resistance members, people I once worked with. The thought leaves a bad taste at the back of my mouth, but it doesn’t stop me from telling Montes and his men everything they need to know.
The war’s over. We should be focusing on healing communities, not more violence. Yet we can’t. Not when stolen military weapons are in the hands of a terrorist organization. Because that’s what the Resistance is and what it’s always been, a terrorist organization. Vigilantes that use intimidation and coercion to fight for a cause they believe in.
When I stood with the WUN, I never minded their activities. It was enough that we were fighting a common enemy. Now that the war is over, the violence is no longer excusable. No matter where my allegiance once lay, I can’t risk more innocent lives lost by staying quiet.
By the time Montes and I head back to our room, the mansion has a stillness to it that only comes with the deep night.
The king’s hands are shoved into his pockets, and there’s a vertical crease between his brows.
Once again my opinion of the king subtly shifts. Worries plague him. Another weakness. Another sign that he has a conscience.
He catches me looking, and the edge of his mouth tips up. He reaches for my hand.
We are the epitome of dysfunction. Our marriage won’t work—it shouldn’t. We are miserable human beings. And yet, when he laces his fingers through mine and I feel the thrill of contact, that tiny flame of hope I carry around flares up.
Anything’s possible. From darkness to light, war to peace—hate to love.
The king brings the back of my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. The entire time he stares at me like we’re sharing a secret. We are. We’re two monsters that might not be quite so monstrous after all.
Anything’s possible.
Chapter 26
Serenity
Before we leave Geneva, there’s something of great importance to me here. A visit I’ve been anticipating and dreading. I come to find out it’s the reason the king stopped here instead of his Mediterranean palace.
I enter the morgue alone—well, as alone as I’m allowed outside the king’s estate. Today that means two guards flank me. Montes has wisely made himself scarce.
My eyes fall on the body in the middle of the room. He’s already laid out, and suddenly, he’s the only thing I have eyes for.
In four quick strides I cross the room. The medical examiner stands off to the side, and my guards fall away. It’s just me and him.
My father.
Before I can think twice about it, I take his hand. It’s cold and the texture is somehow all wrong. He’s been gone long enough that, even embalmed, there is no pretending that he’s a living thing. Still, I can’t seem to let him go.
My gaze travels to his face. The blood has been washed from him, and the bullet hole in his forehead’s been sealed up.
A tear drips onto the metal table beside my father’s head. “I was supposed to die with you,” I whisper to him.
The loneliness of my situation slams into me. How am I supposed to live if the one person who mattered most to me is now dead?
Killed by my husband’s people. How could I forgive Montes for this? What kind of weak woman would that make me?
“I’m so sorry, Dad.” For a moment I wait for him to respond. I know what he would say: Don’t be. I’m so proud of you.
A memory from two years ago floats in. I’d been so angry at the king, angry at all the senseless death.
My father placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Do you know why your mother and I named you ‘Serenity’?” he’d asked me.
I shook my head; I had no idea where he was going with this.
“Serenity means to be at peace,” he explained. “When your mother was pregnant, she said the thought of you gave her that—peace.”
Ironic that my life had known so very little of it.
“You’ll never live up to your namesake if you don’t forgive, Serenity.”
“Dad—” He managed to use my one weakness, my mother, against me.