The Queen of All that Lives
Page 33

He squints at me. “What other schemes have you been up to?”
I look over at the bits and pieces of the maps that I can see. “You’re not the one who should be worried about their spouse scheming.”
He captures my jaw with his hand and peers into my eyes. I try to jerk away, but he won’t release his hold.
His gaze searches mine. “You do have something else up your sleeve,” he says.
I do.
I don’t look away from him. I don’t give him any sign at all on whether or not he’s correct.
The air shifts, and I can’t tell whether it’s anger or passion that fills the room, only that I’m choking on it. Knowing us, it’s probably both.
“If you’re hiding something from me, I will find out.” His voice is steady and quiet. Lethal. People die after hearing that tone.
“And if you’re hiding something from me,” I say, “then so will I.”
His calculating eyes brighten, and a whisper of a smile crosses his face. He inclines his head.
He still grips my jaw. “So my vicious little wife plans on ending the war. And she wants power and autonomy along the way,” he says, still studying me.
Yes. That’s precisely what I want.
The king taps my jaw with his index finger. His vein is still pounding, and his features are just as uncompromising as I’ve ever seen them.
He pulls my head in close. “I will keep my end of the bargain.”
He kisses me then, a punishing, severe kiss that lets me know just how displeased he is. I revel in it.
As his mouth moves against mine, his fingers drop to the waistband of my pants. He flicks the top button open.
I pull away from the kiss with a gasp, grabbing his wrist.
In response, he presses me closer. “This is what I get for your little stunt. You promised me intimacy,” he breathes against my cheek. “I want it.”
Surprise and a deviant sort of satisfaction unfurl within me. I enjoy sex, and I enjoy an angry king.
I release his wrist and let his hand dip down into my pants. I gasp again as he begins to work me.
“My vicious little wife, you do me proud,” he says. “I should’ve known.” He dips his mouth close to my ear. “You’ve gotten a taste for playing games after all.”
And so I have.
“I want to see it,” I say that evening.
The ocean breeze blows my hair. We’re back outside, finishing dinner as the sun sets.
The scenery of this place always gets to me. Oranges and reds shimmer off the sea’s surface. It’s breathtaking, and looking at it, you would never know that across those waters people are suffering.
“See what?” Montes says, lounging back in his seat.
“The place where I slept,” I say.
It might be my imagination, but out here in the fading light, the king looks distinctly uncomfortable. He appraises me from across the table.
I wish I could appear just as relaxed as the king, but nothing will loosen my limbs. The thought of seeing my resting place has me wound up.
“Alright, my queen,” he finally says.
Just like that. No fighting, no wrangling, no demanding on his part. The fact that he doesn’t try to get something from me in return makes me more nervous, not less.
His chair scrapes back and he stands.
Now. He’s planning on showing me right now.
I hide my surprise. I hadn’t imagined the gratification would be this immediate.
I rise to my feet, dropping my napkin on the table.
Montes comes to my side, and, placing a hand on the small of my back, he steers me forward. We cross the gardens and head back into the towering building.
So it’s inside the very palace itself. Part of me had imagined that I would be sleeping in some sort of crypt on the palace grounds, far away from the living.
He leads me down several hallways, and with each turn the setting becomes increasingly familiar.
We end up right back in front of our bedroom.
I raise an eyebrow.
I can’t tell whether this is a trick or not.
Montes smiles at my expression, his eyes gleaming. “You thought I’d keep you anywhere else?” he asks as he opens the door.
“You kept me in your room?”
For a second, I imagine myself laid out on the bed, stiff like the dead, before I remember that I was encased in the Sleeper.
“Not exactly.” He leaves me at the threshold, and I watch him, puzzled, as he heads to a large framed painting.
A familiar unease washes through me, one that’s reserved for unnatural things. There is something frightening about watching this beautiful man share his dark secret. Something wrong.
Montes turns back to look at me as he swings the frame back.
My lips part with realization. There’s another room. A hidden one. Now that the painting is moved aside, I make out a door camouflaged with the rest of the wall. A discreet thumbprint scanner is embedded next to it.
The king presses his thumb against it, and a second later it blinks green. With a pressurized hiss, the door unlocks. He holds it open for me.
What lies beyond is cloaked in shadow. Suddenly I’m not so sure how much I want to see where I rested. What’s to stop the king from forcing me back into the machine?
He notices my hesitation. “Serenity, you don’t have to see this.”
My paranoia dissipates. If he wanted to put me under, he’d need a doctor and a sedative, and I know he has neither.
I still don’t trust him. Not with everything.