“It was better when I simply hated you,” I murmur against him. My head and my heart are at war, and the fallout’s ripping me in two.

“I know,” he says, his lips still pressed to mine. “That won’t stop me from trying to win you over, but I know.”

I open my eyes. The king’s dark, unfathomable ones stare back at me. My pulse quickens a little more. I’m not supposed to want to know what he’s thinking or be pulled in by the same allure that’s won over countries and officials.

But I do and I am. His life frightens me, but he’s also a kindred spirit. His darkness complements my own.

“Sit back down,” he murmurs against my lips.

I let him lead me back; I have nowhere else to go. He takes his own seat and reaches for his cutlery.

I lift my own fork and spear a pasta noodle. They used to serve us spaghetti in the bunker, but as soon as the flavor hits my taste buds, I realize this is a different beast entirely. If what I was used to was water then this would be wine.

Montes watches me the entire time.

I swallow. “Stop that.”

“Then stop making that expression when you eat.”

“What expression?” I ask.

“Like you’re being sweetly fucked.”

I shouldn’t have asked. And I definitely need more alcohol for this conversation. Montes refills my glass right before I reach for it.

“I’m surprised by you,” I say, eyeing my topped-off drink.

His eyes noticeably brighten. “Oh, really?”

This man and his ego.

“Feeding wine to the woman with stomach cancer.” Last time I overdrank, I vomited blood up.

The luster in his gaze dies out a little. “The Sleeper’s controlling the cancer.”

That’s good enough for me. I take a healthy drink.

“But I still have it.” I place the glass back down.

“You do. But you won’t for long.”

I really want to kick my legs up on the table and settle into my chair. Instead, I take another bite of the pasta. It’s heavenly.

Damnit, I think I am making a face while I eat it.

“We haven’t discovered a cure yet,” he continues, “but my researchers are close.”

I take another drink of my wine. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” Sure, there are experts galore, but Montes has only been funding those that furthered his war.

“What are you saying?” That vein begins pulsing again.

“I don’t think you can save me.”

Montes lets my words sink in, and for a split second he looks so reasonable. Then the bubble pops.

He stands swiftly, shaking the table as he does so. I stare up at him as he rounds it, his eyes sparking with emotion.

We’re fire and gunpowder. Something’s about to explode, and I lit the match.

He kicks my chair out and leans in, resting his hand along the back of it. “I can save you, and I will.”

I meet his gaze. God save me, the man means it.

I swallow. “Montes, it’s always going to be this way.” I feel like a soothsayer as I speak. “Whether it’s the cancer or the Resistance, something’s going to get me.”

My number’s already been drawn. It’s simply a matter of time. Montes is the only one besides me that’s fighting it at all.

“Haven’t you heard?” he says. “Death doesn’t come to this house.”

CHAPTER 10

Serenity

IT’S LATE BY the time we return to the palace. Before I can think twice about it, I take off my shoes. I can’t remember the last time I walked barefoot outside, and I shouldn’t be taken by something as simple as my naked feet touching the ground, but I am. In times of peace, people probably don’t have to think about wearing shoes, but I’ve always had to. You never know when you’re going to have to run.

It’s a little thing, this freedom, but I enjoy it. I steer us off the stone path to feel the sensation of grass between my toes. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as I feel the spongy, moist earth beneath my feet and the itchy prick of the lawn. Right now I don’t care that a dozen lights are still on in the palace windows, or that we’re in view of several guards. Nothing can come between me and this small pleasure.

Montes must notice my fascination with the textures of the earth because he maneuvers us towards an area where the soil is free of grass and plant life. Neither of us acknowledges that I’m interested in walking through the mud and dirt.

He subtly steers me to another section of the palace grounds. Sharp pebbles bite into the pads of my feet. I curse, and suddenly, Montes’s hand is trembling in mine.

When I glance over at him, he’s laughing.

I push him. “You did that on purpose.”

Now he’s not bothering to curb his laughter. “I did.”

“That’s what I get for trusting you.” The usual venom is gone from my words. I find I enjoy Montes’s teasing at the moment.

“C’mon,” he says. “I promise no more nasty surprises.”

He leads me to a hose. Like many things here, this mundane piece of equipment is something of a novelty. I’ve seen and, on a couple occasions, used hoses before, and the WUN still had some running water when I left it, but no one waters their lawns anymore.

Montes turns it on and angles the spray at my toes.

“Lift your foot.” I do so. He grabs my ankle and rinses the dirt off. I have to brace myself against his shoulder to keep my balance. It’s oddly intimate. He lets go of my right foot and beckons for the other.