“You weren’t in a sound state of mind.”

I nod, because he’s right. I choke down my pride and vindictiveness. The representatives did what they had to do to ensure the well being of the western hemisphere.

“Tell her,” Will says.

I look away from the general to his son. Will’s hands are balled into fists, and he’s crying as well. Only now do I realize that there might be a reason Will hasn’t tried to comfort me like he would’ve a day ago. There might be a reason why the representatives can’t look me in the eye and why there’s an agreement at all in light of recent events.

“What is it?” I ask, returning my gaze to the general. Dread coils at the pit of my stomach.

The muscle in General Kline’s cheek jumps again. “The king had one condition in the agreement.”

“No,” I whisper. The king wouldn’t—the representatives wouldn’t. There must be one decent person amongst the remaining leaders of the world.

The general’s face is grim. “In return for peace, we’re to deliver you to the king.”

Chapter 12

Serenity

I stare at the general for a moment, not allowing myself to comprehend his words. And then they sink in. Bile rises up my throat, and I barely have time to grab a nearby trashcan before I retch.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and straighten.

The general’s still speaking, but I’m no longer listening. I feel my legs buckle, and then Will is there, scooping me up and carrying me back to my room.

My entire body shakes.

I can’t go back.

“Serenity, he’s not going to kill you,” Will says as he lays me on my bed. He crouches next to it so that we’re at eye level. His gaze moves to my lips; he looks pained. “The king’s not going to kill you—or imprison you.” He takes a deep breath. “They’ve been talking about the possibility of a wedding.”

I go still. “A wedding?”

Will nods, and I can see his throat work. He closes his eyes and I see his body shudder.

“I have to marry the king?”

Will opens his eyes. “That’s what it sounds like.”

“I have to marry my father’s killer?”

His face crumbles and he looks away. “It’s better than death or imprisonment,” he says, his voice rough.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” I scream.

Slowly Will gets up and backs away from me. “I’ll make this right, Serenity. I swear it.”

I pretend I don’t hear his words. I’m tired of promises. Of vendettas. Of posturing. Of politics and death.

Once he leaves the room, I curl into a ball and pretend nothing exists at all.

I stay in bed for another two days, shaking, sometimes rocking myself. Eventually I eat the food that someone’s left for me, one small bite at a time. My stomach contracts painfully as each piece of food enters, and I have to fight off my rising sickness. I drink some water, if only to get rid of my splitting headache.

By the end of two days, the most painful emotions have dissolved away. I still feel like one giant, open wound, but I can think through it. I can be rational. Somewhat.

So I get up, wash myself, get dressed, and head to the conference room. Not surprisingly, when I get there, the representatives are in session. I’ve rarely seen them outside this room.

The group quiets when they see me. “I’m here to cooperate,” I say, striding into the room. “I’ll do what you want for the good of the country. What do you need of me?”

For a moment no one speaks. For all their smooth words, I’ve managed to silence these politicians several times over the last few days. Then the general approaches me, and in a rare show of emotion, he envelops me in a hug.

“You are the daughter I never had,” he whispers into my ear. His voice is gruff. “I’d hoped you’d make my son happy one day.”

I wince at his words. He doesn’t know that he’s making this so much worse for me.

He pulls away. “Has Will told you anything about what’s going on?”

I glance about the room. I don’t see the general’s son; I wonder if he’s been playing hooky just like I have.

“Only that I might be …” my throat works, “marrying the king.” The words burn coming out. “Whose idea was that?” I ask.

The general’s lip curls with disdain, and he shakes his head. “His,” he says.

After I killed the king’s men, I’d assumed that if he ever got his hands on me, he’d execute me, regardless of his feelings. In the end, that’s what war is, a string of revenge killings.

But his men hadn’t tried to kill me, and they’d had many opportunities during my escape. He always wanted me alive.

I wonder if the peace agreement the representatives agreed to was the same one the king presented my father. If it was, then the man that raised me would’ve died in vain. I suppress my shudder.

The general clears his throat. “The king has a jet here waiting for you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

“He gave us orders to leave you be until you were ready.”

I’m struck by two things the general has said. One, the general is taking orders from the king. For as long as I’ve known the general, he’s been the de facto leader of the WUN. It’s strange to see him abdicate his leadership role.