That sounded ominous.
“A super-virus swept through the Eastern Hemisphere. It spread rapidly, killing seventy to eighty percent of its victims. People panicked. The world hadn’t seen something like this in centuries.”
Apprehension skitters through my veins.
“Then one of my researchers discovered that my drug could cure the illness—if taken in the right dosage for the right amount of time. ”
The king stares down at his palms. “People demanded I mass produce it and hand it out for free.”
It dawns on me, how these long ago events affected the present. “You didn’t?”
“No,” he says quietly. “I didn’t. I sold it for profit instead. And as the world got sicker, I became richer.”
Montes shoves a hand through his hair. “In the beginning, I didn’t want power, I just didn’t want to lose everything I’d built. But somewhere along the way the line between money and power blurred, until I became king of it all.”
All those people that died when they could’ve been saved.
I cover my mouth with my hand and scramble out of bed, no longer caring that I’m exposing myself. My entire body is shaking.
“I should never have saved you,” I whisper.
A muscle in Montes’s cheek ticks. It’s the only sign that my words affect him.
He pushes himself out of bed and stalks towards me. “You wanted to know what I fear most? Here it is: I fear I will always be alone. That no one who truly knows me will love me. Not even my wife.”
I balk at this. “You’ve made piss poor life choices, and you want me to love you in spite of it? You’re insane.”
I swivel to grab my robe and get the fuck out of here when Montes catches me around the waist.
He tugs me to him, pulling me in close. “I’m not insane, Serenity,” he whispers into my ear. “And you and I both know why you saved my life. It doesn’t matter that you think I’m an evil bastard. You love me.”
Chapter 27
Serenity
“Here they are,” Nigel Hall, the king’s head advisor on Global Health and Wellness, sets a crate of papers down on the desk between us, “the regional reports you requested. All two hundred and fifty-seven of them.”
Montes made good on his promise to put me in touch with Nigel. That was three days ago, and it takes the king’s advisor that long to collect and deliver all the information on the state of affairs in every corner of the world.
Tossing aside the cardboard top that covers the box, I pull out a handful of folders and begin flipping through them. There are hundreds of locations in need of medical relief. Places where the crime rate is exorbitantly high and the death rate is even higher.
This isn’t just a medical issue; it was simple of me to assume so. I’ll have to take a holistic approach: education, shelter, basic amenities, regional justice systems, health—they all need to be addressed if I want to do this right.
I thumb over the pages. “Who wrote up these reports?”
“The committees on health and wellness, environmental sustainability, regional economic …”
I tune him out after that. I’ve heard enough. These reports were all written in-house, which means they’re skewed to please the king.
Just to test my theory, I interrupt him. “Where are the WUN’s?”
He flips through the files still in the box and pulls several out. I open them up. The regions are strangely divided here. I realize why when I delve into the reports.
The Midwest is sectioned off from the surrounding land. The committees involved decided that it was the region in the most dire need of relief, and here measures will be taken to rid the earth and water of radiation, repair the economy, and get people back to health.
It’s laughable. The Midwest was one of the most unscathed areas of the WUN’s land. Our former representatives figured that the king had plans to make use of the miles and miles of farmable land. This analysis only seems to support our theory.
“Interesting,” I say, snapping the folder shut.
“What is?”
“The data gathered. It’s inaccurate.”
Nigel balks at my words. “Your Majesty, I assure you, these are the most comprehensive reports out there.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that. They’re the only ones out there. But they’re still inaccurate. I will not be following your committees’ recommendations.”
Nigel looks scandalized.
“Has anyone gone into these communities and asked the people themselves what they need?” I ask.
“Your Majesty,” he says my title disparagingly, like how an adult might talk to a small child, “most of these areas are far too dangerous to enter.”
“All the more reason to find out how to change the situation. I want you to pull together a team and begin plans for us to visit these places.”
“‘Us’? No, no, no. I’m afraid that’s not possible. The king will have my head.”
“You’ll do this or I’ll have yours.”
“But the king—”
“I don’t give a shit about the king’s opinion on this.” I talk over him. “I vow on my life I will offer you protection from him, Nigel, but this will be done.” Montes owes the world that much.
Someone raps on the door. “Your Majesty.” It’s Marco. Abominable, douchelord Marco.
“I’m busy,” I say, staring down a panicked Nigel.
“Not for this,” he says. “The video has leaked.”
When I enter the king’s conference room, I find him pacing. Behind him, footage of my entrance into the WUN plays in loops across the screen. When Will had showed the tape for me, I couldn’t see all the meaningful details. Now I can. My face is alarmingly calm.
Marco shifts uncomfortably next to me as he catches sight of the footage. In fact, most of the king’s advisors sitting in on this meeting stare at me with a mixture of anger and horror.
“We’ve been deleting various uploads of the video all morning, but it keeps surfacing,” Montes says.