I glance at Montes to gauge his reaction, but he seems unsurprised. I was an emissary before I was his fiancée, after all. “Any areas in particular?” he asks.

Perhaps he means regions of the globe, but I interpret the question differently. An image of burned skin and patchy hair comes to mind. Another of the palsy a former soldier developed. All were the result of radiation poisoning and biological warfare. Not to mention that strange things are occurring in the king’s labs, things he’s kept quiet on. I want to know what those secrets are.

“Health,” I say. “Innovations that will help people’s quality of life.”

He watches me for a long time. “You will make a great queen.”

I press my lips together to keep my upper lip from curling at the title.

“The people need a leader who listens to their needs,” the king continues as we come to a stop in front of my door. “Cares about them.”

At his words, I close my eyes. I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say. It means committing to my role as the king’s wife, as the queen. I’m not ready for that.

His hand cups my chin. “Open your eyes, Serenity.”

I do.

“If you are genuinely interested in health and technology as it relates to world affairs, I will give you access to that information.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really?” Excitement creeps into my voice.

His smile is sly. He knows I’ve taken his bait. “As soon as we’re married and you’ve proven that you’re not planning on killing me or yourself, then absolutely.”

And there’s the catch.

I scowl at him. “I already told you, I’m not going to do anything.”

He touches a finger to my lips, and I pretend his touch does nothing to me. “I need more than just your word,” he says. “I need proof.”

I don’t see the king again until the next evening. He’s been busy all day with ruling the world, and I imagine that he will be especially busy for many months—hell, many years—to come.

When he knocks on my door, I just about bound out to meet him. Sure he’s a slimy bastard, but men and women have been in and out of my room all day taking my measurements, asking questions about my personal preferences, and abusing my skin, nails, and hair in the name of beauty. There are forms of torture less painful than that.

“Someone seems happy to see me,” he says.

“You are a sadistic bastard.” I brush past him and out the door, glancing both ways just to make sure no one else is about to ambush me into picking out a color scheme for God-knows-what.

Somehow the king knows exactly what I’m referring to. I can see the laughter in his eyes. “I thought all women liked getting pampered?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who enjoys that?”

The king places a hand on my back and leans down to whisper in my ear. “You look like the kind of woman who shoots and asks questions later, and it’s a turn-on.”

My head whips back to look at King Lazuli. He’s gazing at me hungrily. “You are a twisted son of a gun.”

“Look who’s talking.”

I open my mouth to retort when the king cuts me off. “I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and pulls me down the hall.

“Where’s your little henchman, Marco?”

The king’s hand tightens on mine. “He’s around, but I’ve asked him to keep his distance.”

“So, he’s still working for you?”

“Yes.” King Montes doesn’t look at me when he says it.

I pull my hand out of his. “That’s it? He kills my father and he goes unpunished?”

“Watch your words.” Now the king turns to face me, and his eyes flash. “You and your men killed and injured some of my best men, and you got a peace treaty and a promotion out of it.”

I stop in my tracks. “A promotion?” My voice only gets quiet like this before I do terrible things. “You consider this a promotion?”

My hands clench and unclench. The king eyes them before he speaks. “From emissary of a dying nation to queen of the entire world? Of course it is.”

I pull my fist back and slam it into his face. My knuckles split as they connect with the king’s cheek. It’s the most pleasant sting I’ve ever endured.

His head whips to the side, and I hear the click of his teeth as his jaw snaps together. Montes staggers, but only for a moment. I hear the pounding of several footsteps as some of the nearby palace guards run to help the king. He waves them off and rubs his jaw while he watches me, his eyes sparkling dangerously. Blood trickles out the side of his mouth. He must’ve cut himself with his teeth.

“So the king bleeds—I wasn’t sure,” I say.

He smiles. That’s all the warning I get. Then he’s on me. He swipes my feet out from under me, and I slam to the ground. The king follows, straddling me. He grabs my hands and holds them over my head. “Are you finished with your tantrum?”

“Not even close,” I growl.

I try to buck him off my body, but it only serves to tighten his grip on me. The king’s legs press into my sides, and he squeezes my hands. It takes me a few seconds and a couple deep breaths to realize that we’re in a compromising position.

As if reading my mind, the king’s eyes flick to my lips, a wicked grin forming along his own. I want to scream, but instead I force my strained muscles to relax. It’s even harder to swallow my pride.