The Queen of Traitors
Page 24

My eyes land on the speaker. Ronaldo. He was the one that orchestrated the nuclear blasts that wiped my country apart, the one whose life I saved in one of these last meetings.
“No.” The word is out before I can censor myself.
Montes swivels in his chair, an eyebrow raised.
“I will be dealing with the WUN,” I say. Not Ronaldo, who played a key role in destroying it. Not any of these other men that hold no love for the scarred land I once called home.
Montes’s advisors look aghast. Their gazes move from me to the king and back.
“Your Majesty?” It’s Walrus Man from our wedding who pipes up, the man with the bulging eyes and belly. I don’t remember his name and I don’t particularly care.
The king focuses all that disturbing intensity of his onto the advisor. “Yes?”
Walrus glances to either side of him, his face beginning to redden when no one else speaks up. Had he thought to dispute me? Was it his hope that breaking the silence would herald in more complaints from his colleagues? No one else seems interested in disputing the king’s wife, despite the fact that many of them appear angry.
Such loyal comrades, these men.
“Nothing,” Walrus says.
Weak, weak man.
“Good.” Montes’s eyes twinkle when they meet mine. He keeps me around because I’m still amusing to him. “Your queen’s spoken,” he says to the room. “All dealings with the western hemisphere will go through her from this day forward.”
There’s a collective exhale as twelve men hand over their balls to a woman. I can’t help the satisfied smile that stretches across my face. I made a promise to myself that I’d help my homeland.
Today I’ve begun to in earnest.
“YOU DEFIED ME,” the king says after the meeting.
The last of his men have left, and by the time we leave the conference room, there’s no sign in the hallways that over a dozen of the world’s wickedest men had convened here ten minutes ago.
“Taking control away from those men is not defiance.”
The king’s hand falls to the back of my neck, his fingers caressing the pulse points on either side of it. It’s oddly sensual, but it’s also an innate threat. Power flows from the king; for all my posturing I’m just his puppet.
He pulls the side of my head to his lips. “It is if I say it is,” he said, his breath tickling my ear.
Even his words are some combination of sensuality and threat. My mouth usually gets me into trouble, I decide for once to muzzle it.
“How are you feeling?” Montes asks. He still holds my neck hostage, and he’s using the grip to keep me even closer.
“Healthy.”
Healthy is the last thing I’m feeling. The king doesn’t know that half my bathroom breaks consist of me hugging the toilet rather than sitting on it, or that blood continues to speckle the evidence of my sickness. Up until today I’ve been on forced bedrest. I’m not about to blow my first taste of freedom.
“I was hoping you’d say so. Tonight we’re hosting a very important dinner party; if you’re feeling better, you’ll be there by my side.”
I’ve been cornered by a master manipulator. It’s either attend the stuffy dinner party or languish in bed.
“This is revenge for speaking up today, isn’t it?”
This twisted man.
“No, Serenity,” the king says. He removes his thumb from my pulse point to stroke it down the back of my neck. “That, I will collect on later.”
THE DINNER PARTY we walk into is identical to the ones I went to during the peace talks with the king. The only things missing are the camera crews and my father.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Had I felt objectified then? It’s nothing compared to now. The room’s collective gaze fixes on me. I can feel their eyes studying my hair, my makeup, my jewelry, and my outfit. If only they knew that when I walked into my room several hours earlier, someone else had laid it all out for me. The woman they see is a stranger. Maybe one day I’ll get just as used to wearing dresses as I do fatigues, but not today.
“Relax your features, my queen,” Montes says, his voice pitched low for only me to hear, “you look ready to massacre the room.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Montes’s smile.
Ahead of me, thirty odd people lounge in whatever this room is—a sitting room? A standing room? Does it even matter? Most of these rooms look identical to my untrained eyes.
The people here are just as interchangeable, and I have to study their features closely to distinguish them. What I find surprises me.
Some of the younger women wear their hair loosely curled. Just like mine.
Another sports a jewel just below the corner of her eye. It’s on the same side as my scar. Several women wear pale yellow dresses. Another wears a gold dress eerily similar to the one I wore at my engagement announcement.
They’re emulating me.
I work my jaw. I hate it. What’s worse, I’m fueling this.
I don’t think I can be civil tonight. Not here, not with these people.
I have to remind myself of all the lessons my father taught me. Not everything needs to be a confrontation.
Shortly after they catch sight of us, Montes’s guests begin to approach. Many of the men are his advisors, but not all of them. The bejeweled, bright-eyed women join them, smiles fixed on their faces.
I’m glaring at all of them while Montes charms the group.
“Montes, can I steal your wife away?” This comes from the woman with the jewel at the corner of her eye.
“I’m right here,” I say. “You can ask me.”
She reels back slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty. Would you care to meet the wives of the king’s advisors?”
I would care very much. But this is the world of politics and diplomacy, a world my father schooled me on. Study your enemies.
“It would be a pleasure.” The words come out clipped. It’s my one lie of the night. I’m tapping out after this.
The king flashes me a look. He knows exactly how deceptive I’m being at the moment.
I’m dragged away from the king towards the far left side of the room, where most of the women are grouped.
“I’m Helen,” the woman says as she leads me. “I met you briefly at the wedding, but there were so many people.”