The Queen of All That Lives (The Fallen World Book 3) (6 page)

Chapter 10

Serenity

“Do you have
anything besides lace that I can wear?” I ask, sitting up and frowning at the empty closet across the room.

Montes gets out of bed. I try and fail to not stare at his backside as he strides away from me.

You know what? Screw it. The man has always taken liberties with me when he shouldn’t. I can look at my husband all I want.

He grabs his button-down he’s thrown over a side chair and tosses it to me.

I finger the material. “This isn’t funny.”

“My men have restocked my closet with clothes for you, but wearing them comes with a condition.”

A century was not long enough to stamp out the conniving side of this man.

I raise an eyebrow.

“You wear the clothes I provide, you sleep in my bed. Willingly.”

My hold tightens on his shirt, wrinkling the material.

Everything with this man comes down to strategy and what he can take. Fortunately for him, I’ve made a habit of sleeping with the king even when I didn’t particularly like him. I have few qualms about repeating the process.

“Fine,” I say. “But when you wake up and your balls are missing, just remember that you asked for this.”

A slow, smoldering smile breaks out across his face. “And when you wake up with me between your thighs, just remember that you agreed to it.”

“You really do have a death wish.” The audacity of this man never fails to astound me.

I slide out of bed. Ignoring the shirt he offered me, I put yesterday’s dress back on. I can feel his eyes on me as I slide it over my hips.

“What?” I say, pulling the straps up.

His eyes pinch at the corners again, like I amuse him.

Rather than answering me, he grabs his shirt from the bed and pulls it on. I bid goodbye to his abs as he buttons it up.

I find myself watching him just as acutely as he watched me.

He doesn’t bother tucking in his shirt or slipping on socks and shoes before coming back to me and taking my hand.

Montes brings it to his lips, kissing the split knuckles that hit his flesh.

I take a deep breath. He’s going to keep doing this, whether or not I fight him. So I bear it and try to ignore the brush of his lips.

When he’s done, he tugs on my hands and leads me out of my room.

“I don’t know anything about you,” I say as we walk. “I don’t know who you are.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“It does,” I counter. “Do you have a wife?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and the only sound is the soft tread of our bare feet and the march of the soldiers that trail us. “She wants to know if I have a wife. I think she’s more interested than she lets on.”

All that time managed to go by, and yet he still remembers how much I hate it when he refers to me in the third person. “
Montes
.”

“No, my queen,” he says, his voice somewhat offended, “there are no others, save for you. There never have been.”

I am mortified at the relief I feel. Am I so ready to forgive this man who’s betrayed me at every stage of our relationship?

“Kids?” I ask.

He flashes me a skeptical look.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re a saint.”

That vein in his temple begins to pulse. “No wives. No children, Serenity.”

I take that all in stride, perversely enjoying the fact that I have upset my king. He has a hard look about him, the expression he wears before he damns someone to death.

My attention diverts from the king when I catch sight of the palace walls. Some of the cloths that covered large frames have now vanished. Now I realize why they were hidden in the first place.

My face stares back at me from half a dozen different places, the grandest of them is the photo from our wedding that once rested in my office. It’s an odd picture to be so grand; it’s not stiff and formal. But the tenderness captured in that moment—albeit, tenderness I distinctly wasn’t feeling at the time—is almost overwhelming on such a grand scale.

The other photos are an odd combination of shots I never saw.

“I couldn’t look at them until now,” the king admits next to me, noticing my interest.

“Why did you put them up in the first place?” I ask, distracted.

“I had hoped they would bring me happiness. But I was wrong.”

My gaze sweeps over the walls again. Not all of the frames have been unveiled. It all seems so very deliberate.

“What about the ones that are still covered?” What else is the king hiding?

Montes peers down at me. “Those are a story for a different day.”

A story I’m bound to not like, I think as I stare into his handsome face. The secrets the king keeps are both huge and terrible. At this point, however, I must be impervious to the king’s terrors. There’s not much more that can frighten me; I’ve already endured all my fears.

We stop outside a set of double doors. Montes opens one of them for me and we head inside.

His room.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m not sure it’s this. His room looks essentially the same as the one I stayed in last night. Beautiful, but lacking personality.

This man keeps all those fathomless bits of himself locked tightly up. Not even in his room does he set his personality loose.

I shouldn’t be concerning myself with Montes, who I feel at my back even now. I should concern myself with my own fate.

I’m to stay here, in this beautiful, empty palace, full of these opulent, meaningless rooms alongside my terrible, tortured husband.

When I turn, I see Montes standing on the threshold.

He jerks his head to the side of the room. “Your clothes are in the closet. I’ll be in the shower. We’re in a drought, so if you want to conserve water, I’ll allow you to join me.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “I’ll pass.”

His monstrous eyes twinkle as he backs away. My nightmare won’t capture me today.

“Then get dressed,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. “We have a war council in an hour.”

The King

This shower might
go on record as one of the fastest I’ve ever taken. I soap myself up, my skin quickly getting slick with it.

Day two with the awakened queen.

My heart beats fast, and for the first time in decades, I feel young again. Uncertain again. Of my feelings, of hers, of the situation we’ve now found ourselves in.

She can’t escape, I ensured that, but I still don’t want her out of my sight. My paranoia is a beast that could swallow me whole if I let it. And I have ample reason to feel this way. I thought Serenity would be safe below my palace. She hadn’t been.

And now she’s in my room.
Our
room. Ready to gut me alive. Everything that’s wicked in me thrills at her savage nature.

I rinse off the suds.

Life with Serenity begins again.

This time around, it will be different. I’m not a good man, and doing the right thing has never come naturally to me, especially when it concerns my wife, but I’m trying. That’s why I’ve decided to keep including her in my official decisions. I want her involved in this war, not only because I have made her a key player in it, but also because my queen thrives best on the front lines.

I turn the spigot off and step out of the shower stall. Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my waist.

I remember the call I got when they found her. All those dead men. She’d been untouched. That’s what happens when you corner my wife. That’s what happens when you throw her into the fray.

I’m an idiot for trying to protect her this whole time. She was never the one who needed protecting.

Everyone else was.

Chapter 11

Serenity

Montes and I
head back to the giant map room together. I cast him my fifth skeptical glance.

“What concerns my vicious little wife?” he asks. He looks down at me fondly. It’s so strange, how kind this man can be when he’s been so cruel.

“You’re wearing fatigues. And combat boots.”

Like me.

I found my own standard issue clothes in his room almost immediately. Granted, these are more fitted than the pairs I’m used to, but otherwise they’re essentially the same.

That was my first shock—Montes stocking my dresser with fatigues.

The second and bigger shock was that he wore them himself.

“I am,” he says.

“I’ve never seen you in uniform.” Not like this. Outfitted like a soldier. He looks good in it.

He runs a hand down his shirt front. “Like I said, many things about me have changed.”

I’m finally starting to understand that.

He peers down at me. “You like this.” It’s not a question.

My eyes drop to his clothes. “It depends.”

“Depends?” He raises his eyebrows. “On what?”

“On whether or not it’s all for show.” Wearing military attire doesn’t make you a soldier. Battle does.

“I like what you’re wearing,” Montes says by way of answer, nodding to my outfit. “It’s a reminder that we will be sharing a bed tonight.”

My face heats at that. “We shared a bed last night.”

“Yes, but this time my willing queen will fall asleep in my arms. I wonder what else she will be willing to do …”

“Just because I agreed to your terms doesn’t mean I’m willing,” I say.

Montes gives me a knowing look. “Let’s save the lies for the politicians,” he says.

I thin my gaze. “You better get some custom armor to wear below your belt, my
king
,” I say. “You’re going to need it.”

That earns me a laugh. “I’ll look into it,
nire
bihotza
.”

Inside the king’s enormous map room, a series of long tables have been brought in and arranged in a U-shaped pattern. More startling than the addition of tables is the addition of people. Dozens upon dozens of military officers sit at the thick oak tables, most wearing uniforms and medallions.

Several screens have been pulled down from the ceiling, covering much of the maps. More military officers watch from the other side of those screens.

And amongst them all, I see many women.

My heart beats faster. This is not the same king I remember. Not even close.

When the officers notice me, the noise dies down until room becomes ominously silent. Then, one by one, they stand and salute.

I lean into Montes, looking out at them all. “Did you pay them to do that?”

He places a gentle hand on my back. “No, Serenity. Money can’t buy you that kind of loyalty.”

Nor can fear, not with these types of men and women. I stare out at their stoic faces. If they’ve lived through enough battles, things like death and pain don’t scare them. That begs the question: how did Montes convince them to join his ranks?

I flash the king a questioning look. Rather than speaking, he urges me forward. I nod to the soldiers I make eye contact with, still confused by the man and situation I find myself in.

This is the first—being inside the king’s palace, surrounded by people that look just like me. It’s destabilizing.

Montes stops us in the middle of the room, where everyone can see us. “Please sit,” he says. The acoustics of the room carry his voice to the far corners.

Dozens of chairs scrape as they do just that.

The king glances down at me. “I would like to introduce you all to my wife, Her Majesty Serenity Lazuli, Queen of the East.”

The room is as silent as the dead. Most of the officers school their faces to look impassive. But their eyes say what their expressions don’t.

I’m the apparition no one expected.

“She’s well over a hundred years old,” Montes continues, “but she has slept through most of them.”

He lifts his gaze to the room. “I have lied to you all, to the entire world. Serenity never died of her cancer. I had her sedated until I could find a cure for her. By the time that came to pass, I hesitated to wake her for other reasons.”

My entire body tightens. I want to devour the words that will fall from his lips, but I have to rein my own emotions in. Whatever he says now is likely some official explanation rather than the actual truth.

My husband is not exactly known for truth telling.

“I was afraid of what would happen to her and the world if she was brought to life. Martyrs don’t last long in war.”

It takes hearing Montes’s explanation to realize I wanted something else, something that burned hot. A reason worthy of a century of sleep.

Not this anesthetized explanation.

“I’m sorry I lied to you all in the process.” The king looks back down at me, and now I really don’t want his eyes taking in whatever reaction I’m wearing. “She’s my wife. I don’t want anything to happen to her. I thought that keeping her asleep and safe under my protection would be enough. But the enemy came in here, they stole her from me, and they were going to use her in the way the West uses all their subjects.”

Montes’s jaw tightens. Now
there
are words to get behind. Now there is the king. Not the king I knew—that one was a man wearing a title.

This is a title wearing a man, power and purpose given flesh.

I can’t help but stare in silence. When did the West become the great evil, and this man a fighter for freedom? When did leaving me to sleep become a mercy rather than a death sentence?

And how, exactly, does the West use their subjects?

I find I really don’t want to know that answer.

Montes steps away from me. “They came for my wife, trespassed inside my house, and tried to use her against us,” he says, pointing a finger to the ground. He pauses for effect. “They will try again. And again. And again. They will try to capture her until they succeed or we stop them.”

He orates to the officers like they are clay to mold into whatever shape he desires. And he’s good. Really good. His adoration seems genuine, his pain seems genuine, his anger seems genuine.

But is it?

“They give us only one option: we must stop them. And we will.” Montes casts his gaze about the room. “This time when we make war with the enemy, we do it for good.”

One of the
officers stands, and he seems like the meanest of the bunch from the sharp set of his features. His eyes move from Montes to me. “What does Your Majesty, Serenity Lazuli say to this?”

Suddenly, dozens of eyes are on me.

And I realize I’m not just a woman wearing a title, either. Not to these people. I’m their hope given form.

I walk forward, passing the king, my boots echoing as they click against the floor. I cast a wondrous glance around the room. I throw a look over my shoulder.

The hairs on my arm rise as our gazes lock. Montes, in his infinite darkness, has done the most twisted thing of all: he’s fashioned his evil into something good men can get behind.

I face forward once more. “I won’t pretend to understand these times or your ways,” I say. “But a hundred and fifty years is too long to be at war. I am prepared to do whatever is needed, whatever it is you ask of me, to end it, once and for all.”

The officer who spoke stares at me for a long time. Then he brings his fist over his heart, and he thumps it against his chest. The action is savage. He pulls his fist away, then does it again. And then a third time.

A chair scrapes back and the man next to him stands. He too places a fist over his heart and begins to pound it just beneath his decorated breast pocket. Then a woman stands and does the same thing. Then several officers.

One by one, like a wave, they stand and thump their fists over their hearts until the entire room is echoing with the sound.

I feel the devil’s breath against my ear. “There is no higher compliment, my queen, than for the officers to give you their honor.”

That’s what this is?

“What have you done?” I say, staring out at the sea of medaled men and women. I’ve already agreed to this, to be what the world needs me to be, but I’m still horrified by all that comes with it.

I’m nothing more than a story to these men and women, a face to their beliefs. And they are all but ready to set down their lives for me.

Those terrible eyes of his capture mine, but he doesn’t respond.

It’s hard to believe everything that led me here wasn’t orchestrated by his hand. That my escape and the fallout from it wasn’t planned. Montes seems more omnipotent than ever, and the superstitious part of me wants to believe that he can see some endgame the rest of us can’t.

But he can’t control me, I know that. His reluctance to wake me up has everything to do with that. And I won’t bow to him, no matter how drastically he’s changed his ways. A long time ago I forgot I slept in bed with the enemy. I paid a hundred years as penance.

I won’t make the same mistake twice.