The Queen of All that Dies
Page 63
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The whine turns into a hiss as a rocket arcs across the sky from the bed of one of the cars. It’s headed straight for the palace.
So today’s the day I die.
Chapter 28
The King
My men get the call while I’m setting up provincial governments in South America. I see their fingers go to their earpieces one moment, and in the next, they’re surrounding me.
“Your Majesty,” one says, “we need to get you out of the palace. Now.”
“What’s going on?”
The explosion knocks me over the desk, the sound a roar in my ears. The walls shake as dust and plaster rain down on me.
Someone bombed my palace. Someone bombed my palace. Anger and incredulity war for dominance.
“Security breach! Front gate!” a guard yells, and then my soldiers are pulling me to my feet and dragging me out of the room.
The front gate? Serenity’s out there. A bolt of panic flares through my veins.
I yank the hands off of me. “I’m not leaving without the queen.” I need to see her now.
“Our men are already on it.”
I hesitate, forcing my guards to drag me out of my room and propel me towards the map room, where escape waits.
Oh God, what if something already happened to her?
Serenity
The missile slams into the west wing of the palace, and the building erupts in a plume of fire and stone. I barely have time to cover my face before the wave of heat slams into me.
After all their years of planning, the Resistance is finally making their big move, and now I’m on the wrong side of the fight.
Go figure.
“Your Majesty!” The guards who’ve shadowed me all morning now sprint towards me as I rise to my feet.
When they reach me, I don’t think. I grab the gun from one of the guard’s holsters.
For a split second he looks at me like I’ve betrayed them. No, I have something much stupider in mind. “We need to cut them off.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when one of my guards lays a hand on my shoulder. “We need to get you out of here. Now.”
Perhaps if I’d grown up in a world without violence, I would’ve readily agreed to this. Instead I duck under the guard’s arms and begin running for the front gate. I pump my arms; I can hear the king’s men behind me.
I fall to one knee and line up the gun’s sights, and then I fire, aiming at the leading car’s front window.
A miss.
I correct my aim and try again.
Another miss.
I can see the line of vehicles a little better. Someone’s reloading the rocket launcher in the bed of that truck. I bite my lip and pull the trigger. I miss my target—I am too far away for much accuracy—but my bullet punctures the driver’s side window.
That’s all it takes for the car to swerve, sending some of the men in the back over the tailgate.
A pair of arms wrap around my midsection, and I’m lifted off my feet. One of the king’s vehicles cuts across the expansive lawn and lurches to a stop behind us. More of Montes’s soldiers grab me and throw me into the car.
Fighting my guards’ orders any longer will only get more people killed. This isn’t a battle I’m equipped to fight in.
I right myself and glance out the window. Behind us I can see the Resistance’s vehicles still barreling full speed ahead towards the gate. Other palace guards stationed near the palace entrance are already firing their weapons, but it’s making no difference.
The gate lets out a sickening groan as the first car rams into it, and it’s torn from its hinges. The palace has now been breached.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“There’s an escape route inside the palace that leads to a launch pad. The king’s already on his way there.”
Our car slams to a stop at the fancy courtyard in front of the palace’s front doors.
“Move, move, move!” one of the soldiers shouts as we exit the vehicle. And now I understand; wherever this exit is, we’re not nearly close enough to it.
A black cloud of smoke rises to my left, where a third of the palace lies in smoldering ruins.
I sprint towards the entrance of the palace, shielded by a cluster of guards. Behind us I can hear gunfire. The soldier next to me grunts and grabs his arm. A man to my left goes down.
This all has an eerie sense of déjà vu to it. There’s even a good possibility that those shooting at us will avoid hitting me. Political figures tend to have higher currency alive rather than dead.
Though I doubt it’ll do me any good surviving this if the enemy captures me. Torture, humiliation, and a slow death likely wait at their hands.
We burst through the front door. Inside, plumes of smoke and dust hover in the air.
At our backs a car screeches to a halt and car doors slam. They’re practically nipping at our heels.
I still have the guard’s gun, and I can’t help swinging around and firing off a shot. My bullet hits a Resistance fighter square in the chest.
Finally made one goddamn mark.
“Come on, my queen.” Hands are on me, dragging me back.
I rotate around and begin running again. “Where to?” I shout.
“Montes’s map room.”
“Is the king still alive?” I ask. I hate the way my pulse jumps when I ask the question. I’ve been trying to shove him out of my mind. Worrying can sabotage a soldier so quickly. In my experience, the harder you think about your fears, the likelier they are to manifest themselves.
“Aye,” one of them says.
Relief courses through me. I’ve gone from wanting the man to die in the worst possible way to fearing for his safety. I’m sure there’s some unhealthy explanation for this, but I am also far beyond caring. I’m a recovering monster that cares about another soulless creature.
Behind us I hear shouts, gunshots, and the sound of shattering objects. Anything that the king once held sacred is likely getting desecrated.
“There she is! I see the queen!” someone yells on the other end of the hall.
The soldiers tighten their guard around me. “Keep moving!” one of them shouts even as bullets begin to spray. “We’re almost there!” I sense rather than see the soldier at my back go down. The tight circle around me shifts to close the space.
We take a sharp turn and the firing stops. The silence is a welcome relief until I hear the sickeningly familiar sound of an object clattering against the floor behind us.
So today’s the day I die.
Chapter 28
The King
My men get the call while I’m setting up provincial governments in South America. I see their fingers go to their earpieces one moment, and in the next, they’re surrounding me.
“Your Majesty,” one says, “we need to get you out of the palace. Now.”
“What’s going on?”
The explosion knocks me over the desk, the sound a roar in my ears. The walls shake as dust and plaster rain down on me.
Someone bombed my palace. Someone bombed my palace. Anger and incredulity war for dominance.
“Security breach! Front gate!” a guard yells, and then my soldiers are pulling me to my feet and dragging me out of the room.
The front gate? Serenity’s out there. A bolt of panic flares through my veins.
I yank the hands off of me. “I’m not leaving without the queen.” I need to see her now.
“Our men are already on it.”
I hesitate, forcing my guards to drag me out of my room and propel me towards the map room, where escape waits.
Oh God, what if something already happened to her?
Serenity
The missile slams into the west wing of the palace, and the building erupts in a plume of fire and stone. I barely have time to cover my face before the wave of heat slams into me.
After all their years of planning, the Resistance is finally making their big move, and now I’m on the wrong side of the fight.
Go figure.
“Your Majesty!” The guards who’ve shadowed me all morning now sprint towards me as I rise to my feet.
When they reach me, I don’t think. I grab the gun from one of the guard’s holsters.
For a split second he looks at me like I’ve betrayed them. No, I have something much stupider in mind. “We need to cut them off.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when one of my guards lays a hand on my shoulder. “We need to get you out of here. Now.”
Perhaps if I’d grown up in a world without violence, I would’ve readily agreed to this. Instead I duck under the guard’s arms and begin running for the front gate. I pump my arms; I can hear the king’s men behind me.
I fall to one knee and line up the gun’s sights, and then I fire, aiming at the leading car’s front window.
A miss.
I correct my aim and try again.
Another miss.
I can see the line of vehicles a little better. Someone’s reloading the rocket launcher in the bed of that truck. I bite my lip and pull the trigger. I miss my target—I am too far away for much accuracy—but my bullet punctures the driver’s side window.
That’s all it takes for the car to swerve, sending some of the men in the back over the tailgate.
A pair of arms wrap around my midsection, and I’m lifted off my feet. One of the king’s vehicles cuts across the expansive lawn and lurches to a stop behind us. More of Montes’s soldiers grab me and throw me into the car.
Fighting my guards’ orders any longer will only get more people killed. This isn’t a battle I’m equipped to fight in.
I right myself and glance out the window. Behind us I can see the Resistance’s vehicles still barreling full speed ahead towards the gate. Other palace guards stationed near the palace entrance are already firing their weapons, but it’s making no difference.
The gate lets out a sickening groan as the first car rams into it, and it’s torn from its hinges. The palace has now been breached.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“There’s an escape route inside the palace that leads to a launch pad. The king’s already on his way there.”
Our car slams to a stop at the fancy courtyard in front of the palace’s front doors.
“Move, move, move!” one of the soldiers shouts as we exit the vehicle. And now I understand; wherever this exit is, we’re not nearly close enough to it.
A black cloud of smoke rises to my left, where a third of the palace lies in smoldering ruins.
I sprint towards the entrance of the palace, shielded by a cluster of guards. Behind us I can hear gunfire. The soldier next to me grunts and grabs his arm. A man to my left goes down.
This all has an eerie sense of déjà vu to it. There’s even a good possibility that those shooting at us will avoid hitting me. Political figures tend to have higher currency alive rather than dead.
Though I doubt it’ll do me any good surviving this if the enemy captures me. Torture, humiliation, and a slow death likely wait at their hands.
We burst through the front door. Inside, plumes of smoke and dust hover in the air.
At our backs a car screeches to a halt and car doors slam. They’re practically nipping at our heels.
I still have the guard’s gun, and I can’t help swinging around and firing off a shot. My bullet hits a Resistance fighter square in the chest.
Finally made one goddamn mark.
“Come on, my queen.” Hands are on me, dragging me back.
I rotate around and begin running again. “Where to?” I shout.
“Montes’s map room.”
“Is the king still alive?” I ask. I hate the way my pulse jumps when I ask the question. I’ve been trying to shove him out of my mind. Worrying can sabotage a soldier so quickly. In my experience, the harder you think about your fears, the likelier they are to manifest themselves.
“Aye,” one of them says.
Relief courses through me. I’ve gone from wanting the man to die in the worst possible way to fearing for his safety. I’m sure there’s some unhealthy explanation for this, but I am also far beyond caring. I’m a recovering monster that cares about another soulless creature.
Behind us I hear shouts, gunshots, and the sound of shattering objects. Anything that the king once held sacred is likely getting desecrated.
“There she is! I see the queen!” someone yells on the other end of the hall.
The soldiers tighten their guard around me. “Keep moving!” one of them shouts even as bullets begin to spray. “We’re almost there!” I sense rather than see the soldier at my back go down. The tight circle around me shifts to close the space.
We take a sharp turn and the firing stops. The silence is a welcome relief until I hear the sickeningly familiar sound of an object clattering against the floor behind us.
