The Queen of All That Lives (The Fallen World Book 3) (25 page)

Chapter 48

Serenity

“We need to
call Styx,” Marco says as our meeting winds down.

I pull my head back. “Why?”

All I want to do is to crawl into bed.

“He has access to many of the East’s military warehouses.”

Shit, does the king know this?

Of course he doesn’t.

And now I hate deception because it ties my hands.

“We’re going to use the East’s weapons against them?” I ask skeptically.

“Would you rather use the West’s?” Marco challenges.

It’s a loaded question.

“The West has already promised me their firepower,” I say, leaning against my desk.

“They are an ocean away. It will be easy for the king to defend the palace against them.”

I begrudgingly agree with Marco’s assessment.

He gestures to my computer. “May I?”

I work my jaw, then jerk my head
yes
.

Sitting down at my desk, he sets up the screen for a video call.

Within minutes Styx Garcia’s face fills the screen.

I frown, my nostrils flaring at the sight of him and all his scars. This is the last thing I want to be doing, surrounding myself with these two men.

“My beautiful queen,” Styx says by way of introduction, ignoring Marco altogether, “what an honor to speak with you again.”

I feel my upper lip curl. I’d forgotten just how much I disliked this man.

“You answered quickly.”

Styx’s gaze finally moves to Marco. “I was expecting the call.”

My neck prickles again. This shouldn’t be how it plays out; I should be the one coordinating. Instead I feel like a lamb being led—led to slaughter.

“Did you enjoy your visit out West?” he asks. “The representatives were very eager to see you once I told them that you wanted to arrange a meeting.”

“A videoconference would’ve sufficed,” I say sharply.

“I am just the messenger,” he reminds me.

He does have a point.

“Pretty woman, I hear you’re going to be a widow soon,” Styx says, smiling slyly.

I narrow my eyes at him. That only makes his smile grow.

“Marcus seems to think we need your help,” I say.

“You
do
need my help. The moment you kill the king, your men are going to turn on you.”

“And you have men willing to defend me?” I ask skeptically.

“Aye, every one of them would die for you,” he says. He hasn’t blinked since he picked up the call, and it’s beginning to unnerve me.

“She also wants to burn the palace down,” Marco adds.

The news brightens Styx’s eyes. “Ah, my queen, I have explosives for days.”

“Explosives that belong to my husband.”

Styx cocks his head at my accusatory tone.

“Yes,” he says carefully. “And my own.” He leans forward. “Speaking of your husband, he’s still trying to kill me.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of your depravity,” I play with the strap of my holster, “otherwise he might put more effort into it.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the extent of
yours
,” Styx replies.

Another good point.

“My queen, I will lend assistance to you. And when that day comes, I’ll be there to congratulate you in person.”

I need to
scrub off the evil that shrouds me. I’ve never done something like this before. I wonder what my father would think. I bet he would be proud. I bet, if he were still alive, this would be the moment he’d think,
she has finally understood my lessons
.

I head back to my room, quietly tiptoeing back in. I shouldn’t have bothered. The lights are on, the bed still made.

The king isn’t here.

I’m alarmed and relieved and disappointed all at once. I want to see him, but I don’t want him to see me. I can’t hide nearly enough of myself from his penetrating eyes.

Rather than get into bed, I head out onto the balcony. It’s become the place I go to when my heart is all twisted up and my mind is addled.

Immediately I hear the sound of the surf.

My father might be proud of me—if he were here—but I’m filled with self-loathing. I no longer hate the king nearly so much as I hate what I have become and what I must do.

I lean against the railing for who knows how long, letting the night air wash over me. Eventually my gaze drops from the sky to the gardens.

A figure sits on one of the stone benches, his broad back facing me.

Montes.

Has he been there the whole time? What could he possibly be musing about deep into the night?

I push away from the balcony and leave our room. My shoes click down the hallway.

I want to see him, my king. Even though I’m plotting against him, and even though he’s bent and broken all wrong, I want to see him.

You see, I love him.

So much.

I can finally admit it to myself now, at the end of things. It’s been there for a while. Quite a while. I was just always afraid of it.

I stride out the palace’s back doors and head down one of the paths that winds through the garden. My steps slow when I catch sight of the king’s form. He sits next to a bubbling fountain, his forearms on his thighs, his head bent.

I am not the only weary one here.

He tilts his head in my direction when he hears my boots click against the stone, but he doesn’t turn around.

When I reach him, I touch his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?” I ask quietly.

His hand goes to my arm, like he wants to make sure I’m tethered to him. “My wife wasn’t in my bed.” He smiles wanly, his focus on the fountain ahead of us. “I’m discovering I can’t sleep when you’re not in my bed.”

I move to sit down next to him, surprised when he doesn’t try to pull me onto his lap.

“So you came out here?” I fill in.

“You’re not the only one that gets tired of those walls pressing in.”

There something frightening about the way he’s talking. The way he’s acting. I might finally understand why Montes panics when I pull away. I can feel the anxiety there, right beneath my sternum. He’s the one whose life will soon end, and he’s acting distant, and I’m pursuing him. He’s the decent one, and I’m the great evil who will destroy every last thing he holds dear.

When did our roles reverse?

He finally looks at me, and God, the look—I could live and die in it.

“Stop it,” I say quietly.

He cups my cheek. “Every time you say that, I know I’m doing something right.”

I frown, even as my eyes well with some soft emotion.

“
Nire
bihotza
, why are you sad?”

I should be asking him the same thing.

“There’s a lot to be sad about.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve had a hundred years to be sad. I don’t want to be sad any longer. And I don’t want my queen to be, either.”

But that’s impossible at this point. The two of us have spent too long drowning in horrors of our own making.

That’s all we know—pain and bloodshed.

Montes threads his fingers through mine.

I glance down at our joined hands, and amend my earlier statement.

All we know is pain, bloodshed—and
this
.

And it’s this last one that will kill us.

Chapter 49

Serenity

There’s one last
person I need to speak with, and he will be the one to play the most pivotal role.

I find Heinrich in his office. The grand marshal is on the phone when I enter, his voice gruff. The moment he catches sight of me, he straightens in his chair, rushing the caller off the phone.

I take a seat in one of the guest chairs across from him.

“Your Majesty,” he bows his head.

I’m struck all over again by how hardened this man is. He’s seen his fair share of carnage. I can tell he respects me, but I bet he also thinks I’m a bit naïve and disillusioned. Me with my grand speeches and rosy ideals.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask me why I’m here, or what I need.

“How loyal are you to the king?” I finally ask.

He rubs his chin and speculates me from where he sets. “I would die for him. And for you, Your Majesty.”

You can’t trust people. Even the most decent ones can turn on you for the right price; I know that better than most. But I decide to trust this man because I’m out of options.

“What if I told you that I needed your help to end the war?”

He stares at me for several seconds before saying, “I would ask you what you need from me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

And then I tell him exactly what I intend to do.

I’m not even finished speaking when he starts shaking his head.

“
No
,” he barks out, “I know what I said before, but I won’t do this.”

“Then I will die, and the world will continue to be at war.”

“It’s too risky.” He’s arguing with me, which I take as a good sign. It means he’s considering it on some level. “For you
and
for the king. I will be executed for treason,” he says.

“How many people has this war already killed?” I say. “How many more people will it kill if we don’t end it? You and I both know I can manage it.”

“Listen, let’s forget for one second that we’re not equals. Let me put this plainly: I like you, Serenity. You have a good heart. But this is madness.

“I won’t tell the king you came to me. Just forget about this whole plan.”

I run my hands through my hair. I need this man backing me.

I try one last time. “When I was nineteen, the general of the Western United Nations, our leader at the time, asked me to marry the king, the man who had killed my family and countless numbers of my countrymen. That was the king’s price—if the WUN handed me over, the war would end.

“I couldn’t imagine a worse fate, but I agreed to it because I knew the world would be better off.

“I’m asking the same thing of you now,” I beseech the grand marshal, “to rise above the ethics of it all to serve the greater good. I know that’s not fair of me to ask, but I can’t do this alone.”

He runs a palm over his buzzed hair. He shifts his weight. Deliberating, deliberating. The entire time, those flinty eyes watch me.

Finally, his jaw tightens, and he blows out a breath. “You have my loyalty, Your Majesty. I will do what you ask.”

I feel my muscles loosen. I didn’t know how tense I was until he accepted.

“Then this is what I need you to do …”

The King

Someone raps against
my closed door.

I drop the report I’m reading, and lean back in my seat. “Come in,” I say.

My grand marshal enters the room.

“Your Majesty,” Heinrich says, bowing, “I have something alarming to tell you. Something that concerns the queen.”

I feel my muscles go tight. “What is it?”

And then he tells me.

The news is a hit to the gut—so much so that it takes me several seconds to get my emotions under control.

Once I do, I lean forward. “You’re going to go along with her plan,” I say.

“But, Your Majesty—”

“You’re going to go along with her plan
and
mine.”

That night, when
I see Serenity, Heinrich’s words echo in my head. I had to go to the gym and beat the shit out of an inanimate object to work off everything I felt. And I felt so goddamn
much
. Neither Serenity nor I can escape what fate has always had in mind for us.

She sits across from me at the small, intimate table. Seeing that loose golden hair of hers framing her bittersweet face, it’s a shock to the chest.

I can tell by the way her leg jiggles that she wants to kick her heels up to the edge of the table and slouch in her seat.

Instead she runs a hand over one of the flames. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

I almost hunted you down and confronted you. I almost threw your damn body in a Sleeper. I almost went on a warpath in this palace. Only a hundred years of wisdom and temperance stopped me.

She’s oblivious.

There’s a deep ache in my bones that I can’t drive away.

Her hand stops over the flame. “Is everything alright?”

I move her hand out of the way. “It’s been a long day.” I lean forward to kiss her scarred knuckles.

This beloved, wild creature. She doesn’t belong here, inside these gilded walls, sitting in front of an intricately carved wooden table set with delicate china.

It was foolish of me to think that she could ever be caged.

I’ve been running from everything she represents for so very long. And I’m tired of running.

It’s time to stop being so afraid.

It’s time to accept everything she is.

It’s time to set her free.

Chapter 50

Serenity

The days turn
into weeks. Time bleeds away, stealing hours from me. And as the time slips by, so does the strange happiness that had grown in my heart.

I might never believe Montes is truly a good man, but I’m not sure I ever wanted good. He’s complex, and terrible, and at the end of the day he’s my monster.

And I have to slay him.

This is what remorse feels like. It’s premature, which is almost worse. Because I have time to change the course of my actions, but I won’t. I made a promise to the world, one I intend to keep.

Things appear to go back to normal. The king watches me, and I swear he sees everything. But if he does, he doesn’t stop me.

I can’t even ponder that possibility.

Each day is worse than the last because it brings me closer to the moment I’ve arranged to kill my husband. I talk with Marco most days, Marco and Heinrich. I plot and plan until every last detail is accounted far.

Tomorrow, at precisely 9:30 a.m., this place will burn, the king along with it.

It’s the king’s day of reckoning. And mine.

“Everything’s in place?” the representatives ask on the other side of the screen. I’m acutely aware that their thirty day timeframe is nearly up.

I nod, and Marco, who sits at my side, says, “It is.”

The two of us are holed up in my office, hopefully for the last time.

All those years ago I sat next to my father, and spoke to a different set of representatives.

This is the world gone wrong.

“Good. Our men will begin to move in at nine-twenty. A vessel will be waiting offshore. Marco, you’ll radio our men the moment Serenity takes out the king.”

I have to breathe through my nose to curb the nausea that rises at the prospect. I have killed countless people; this should be no different. But it’s a world apart. The man I love, the monster who’s found his conscience, the king who gave up a piece of his empire to hold me in his arms again. Who defied death to have me by his side.

I dread this more than anything I ever have.

“We’ll pick you both up from there,” the representatives continue. “We won’t consider the deed done unless you bring the body.”

They’re looking at me, even though Marco is just as much a part of this as I am.

I pull myself together. “I’ll get you your body.”

“Good. Then we’ll see you tomorrow. We have a peace agreement to negotiate in the coming days.”

Pretty words for ugly intentions. Knowing these men, it won’t be a peace agreement so much as terms of surrender. It doesn’t matter. I won’t be agreeing to anything.

“Get some sleep,” one of the representatives says, rousing me from my thoughts. “You’ll need it.”

Battle fatigue. It’s
a very real thing. You’ve seen too much, done too much, and at the end of it all you are so, so weary.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.

I thought I had lost everything.

And I had. I lost everything I loved, even things I didn’t realize I could lose—my memory, the past, my hate.

I’ve become something I loathe, and I don’t know how to get back to the girl I was, the one that easily divided the world into right and wrong.

And to be honest, I don’t know if I even want to be her anymore. I’d rather be the girl who was never touched by war. Who knew nothing of sleeping with the enemy, who’d never seen what flesh looks like when it was blown open. I want to be a girl who woke with a clear conscience each morning, whose demons didn’t plague her late at night.

But I can’t have that. Not short of injecting myself with that memory loss serum, and that was no solution. Forgetting doesn’t mean it never happened; it means not dealing with the consequences.

And oh, have the consequences stacked up.

I gaze into my reflection, my hands tightening around the edge of the counter.

I may have suffered, I may have changed, but I
know
who I am.

I am the girl from the WUN—the girl born a citizen of the United States of America. I am vengeance and I am salvation.

And tomorrow, the world will know it, once and for all.

Not long after
my revelation, I hear Montes enter the bedroom, back from whatever business he was attending to. We’ve both been keeping late hours.

I hear his footsteps head directly for the bathroom. A moment later, Montes enters.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I see such bottomless sadness in his own.

He knows. He must.

He steps up behind me and wraps an arm around my middle. His other hand clasps my neck so that he has me shackled to his body.

My hands tighten along the rim of the counter, but I don’t fight his grip.

“I’ve never known my vicious little queen to be vain,” he says.

I pass him an annoyed glance through the mirror. We’re both aware that’s not what I was doing.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Come to bed,” he says, his voice husky.

My throat works. “I don’t want to fall asleep,” I admit.

The idea of what’s to come tomorrow has my stomach twisted in knots.

“Who said anything about sleep?” he breathes.

I turn my head to face him, and that’s all the opening he needs. He kisses me fervently, his hands moving so that I’m no longer his hostage. They cup either side of my jaw.

I’m gasping into the kiss, and I play it off like it’s passion, when all I’m really doing is choking back sobs.

I push against him, forcing him to back up. All the while I rip away at his clothing. I’ve never been like this, violent with the need to be close to him.

Montes welcomes it with a wolfish smile. He always was just as fucked-up as me.

He helps me shrug off the remnants of his shirt, and then his slacks. And then his large, sculpted body is completely on display. The sight of all that coiled power nearly brings me to my knees.

When my hands reach for the edge of my shirt, he captures them in his own.

“Ah-ah,” he says. He hooks his fingers around my shirt collar, and, pausing just long enough to make it dramatic, he rips the garment down the middle.

This is
wrong
. To pursue sex with the man I intend to kill. I know it is, and I wonder if Montes ever had thoughts like this before he took me—in the beginning. Because my plans aren’t changing, yet I still want this desperately, and I
will
take it.

He jerks my pants to my ankles then tosses me onto the bed. Now, as I see him prowling towards me, I remember why I’m usually the more subdued of the two of us.

I’m not sure I can handle him in all his intensity. Not here, where all the pretty layers that usually make me hardened have been stripped away with my clothes.

Hell lives inside me, and it’s been consuming me for the last several hours.

Montes will see all my ugly intentions the moment we’re locked together.

He unlaces one of my boots and tugs it off, throwing it over his shoulder. He does the same to the other. The entire time he watches me, those eyes.

Carelessly, he removes my pants and lets them drop to the floor. My panties follow soon after. Then he’s between my legs, looming over me, his chest brushing against my own.

Montes searches my face. “What’s bothering you?” he asks.

I need to pull myself together.

Instead of answering, I draw him to me and kiss his lips. My hands find his hair and I take great pains to muss it up.

I hear his rumble of approval deep in his chest. I know he hasn’t forgotten his question, and I know he’s probably more suspicious now than he was before.

I need to make him forget, to make us both forget.

No sooner does the thought cross my mind than he wraps an arm around my waist and rolls us so that I’m staring down at him.

He unsnaps my bra and throws it to the side of the bed.

“You’re no longer shy,” he says.

Belatedly I realize that I used to make a habit of covering myself. I don’t do that now.

“Does that make you sad?” I ask. In the past, Montes took great pleasure in shocking me when it comes to things between a man and a woman.

He sits up slowly, his abs tightening as he does so, until our chests are pressed together.

“No,” he says, touching my scar. “I liked your modesty, but I love this more.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it means you’ve accepted me.”

My expression is on the verge of collapsing.

Montes saves me from myself; he recaptures my mouth, and we’re desperate for each other once more. It’s not until he lifts me onto him and he slides into me inch by agonizing inch that our frantic movements slow.

I exhale out my breath once we’re fully joined, my arms twined around his neck. I stare into his eyes as I begin to move, my fingers playing absently with his hair.

“Say it,” he whispers.

Swallowing back my emotion, I shake my head.

We’re wrapped up in each other, our limbs tangled, and now his arms tighten around me. “I know you want to. I see it in your eyes.”

I know he can.

“You don’t get to have all of me, Montes.” I don’t know why I say it. Maybe to harken back to the very beginning, because I’m feeling sentimental. Maybe to protect my heart, even though it’s too late. I don’t know.

I expect his normal retort. He doesn’t give me it.

He brushes my hair back from my face. “Alright, Serenity. Alright,” he says. His eyes are sad again. “This is enough.”

I lean my forehead against his shoulder to hide my expression.

His hand tips my chin back up. He frowns at what he glimpses on my face. “Don’t hide from me.”

He flips us so that I’m staring up at him.

My terrible, undying king.

Who knew at the beginning of things that it would all come to this?

He makes love to me slowly, drawing out each thrust. He stares at me the entire time.

“
Nire
bihotza
, nire emaztea, nire bizitza. Maite izango dut nire heriotzaren egun arte
,” he says.
[1]

“What are you saying?” I ask.

He cups my face. “Just a promise.” His thumbs rub my cheeks as he moves in and out of me.

“Now,” he thrusts harder, ratching up the sweet burn, “come for me, my queen. I want your cries in my ear.”

As if on command, sensation builds. I fight it, wanting to stretch this out for as long as I can.

Montes has other thoughts.

He puts more power behind each stroke and he takes the tip of one of my breasts into his mouth. I squirm against him, panting as I try to stave my climax off.

“Come—for—me.” He punctuates each word with a thrust.

All at once, against my will, my orgasm rips through me. I clutch Montes, my back arching as each wave of it washes over me. I feel him swell as his release follows my own.

The two of lock eyes as our sweat-slicked bodies crash against each other. I want this moment to last. But then it ends.

Montes eventually slides out of me, dragging my body onto his.

He holds me to him, stroking my back.

I wrap my arms tightly around him. Our ragged breathing eventually evens.

I don’t want this night to end. I never want it to end.

Running a hand over his chest, I ask, “Montes, do you think we could have ever been good people?”

“My queen is full of deep thoughts tonight.”

I don’t bother responding.

He tilts my head back to face his. “I think we still can be. I don’t think it’s too late to try.”

I maintain eye contact with him, but it takes so much effort. I want to curl up into him and just let go. I think death, when it comes for me, will be a great release. Oblivion from this cruel world.

“Montes,” I say, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is first?” he says softly.

“Promise me you will always try to do good.”

He flashes me a quizzical look. “Where is this all coming from?”

“Promise me.”

He frowns. “I promise you, I will always try.”

That’s the most reassurance I’m going to get.

I settle back in his arms. And for the rest of the night, I hold my monster to me.

It’s early in
the morning, when I finally pull myself out of our bed. The king’s breaths have long since evened. I, meanwhile, haven’t slept a wink this entire night. Instead I spent the long hours savoring the feel of him.

One last time.

I drag on my fatigues and boots, careful to muffle my movements. I clip on my two guns and then I head out onto our balcony.

I stare up at the stars and let the past wash over me. I carry a terrible history inside myself, one full of loss, but it’s the only one I know, so I cherish it.

Over a hundred years ago I stood in almost this exact place, a woman married to her enemy.

How the tides have turned.

I continue to stare up at the dark sky, where everyone I love now lives. Or perhaps they don’t. Perhaps death really is the end.

I push away from the railing and leave the room, not allowing myself to give Montes a parting glance.

Today I’m going to have to be strong.

I make my way to my office. I need a place to hide out until all hell breaks loose. Anyone who catches sight of me before then will see that I’m acting cagey as fuck.

Once I’m inside, I pace a little, sit behind my desk for a bit, flip through reports that I’ll never get around to addressing.

Slowly the hours creep by.

I’m checking the magazine of my new gun for the thirteenth time when I hear a rumble. I slide it into place with a satisfying click and stand, my head turned towards the door.

I hear a hollow, hissing noise, then—

BOOM!

I stumble back as the earth rocks. The walls shake violently. Books rain down from the shelves that line the room and my monitor topples over, along with a lamp.

I grab the edge of the desk and straighten. Out my window I see bits of the palace arcing through the sky. A large slab of marble slams into the fountain the king and I sat at mere weeks ago.

The screams start up almost immediately.

So it’s begun.