“If I answer your question, will you tell me how you know the king can be killed?”

He gives me a sharp nod, and I exhale, glancing down at my soiled gown. “It’s true,” I say quietly. “All that radiation … I have stomach cancer.”

As I speak, Will’s brows draw together, and in the silence that follows, he glances away. One might think that he was overcome with emotion, but I know what he’s really thinking—it’s the same thing that plagued my thoughts for a while. He’s wondering why the hell the king is trying to save my life.

“Did they get the cancer?” Will asks.

I fold my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t know. I was shot and kidnapped before I heard the prognosis.” Voicing this only throws the absurdity of the whole situation in sharp relief: Will allowed Resistance members to shoot me even though he knew I might be sick. Right now his heartlessness is giving the king a run for his money.

Will grunts, and that’s the closest he’ll come to saying, point taken.

“I shared my news,” I say. “Your turn.”

“One of our members found out that the king takes a certain prescription,” Will begins.

My mouth dries, and my fingers grip the skin of my arms tightly.

“We were able to get ahold of a sample of it and study what it does,” Will continues.

I wait with bated breath.

“The thing’s the fucking fountain of youth in a pill. Test subjects reported that their sunspots vanished, their wrinkles disappeared, and their hair regenerated—and that’s only what they noticed. The truth is that daily doses of this drug lead to denser bones, stronger muscles, better eyesight—you name it.”

I swallow. A pill that could effectively make you immortal. And I was now taking it. “Are there any side effects?” I ask.

“Don’t know. However, this is the kicker: we found medical journals on this drug from almost thirty years ago.”

I purse my lips. That was more than a little odd.

“Want to know who funded the bulk of the research?” Will asks.

I raise my eyebrows and nod for him to continue.

Will smiles grimly. “Your husband, Montes Lazuli.”

I’m reeling from this revelation, though I shouldn’t be too surprised, given the king’s nature. Sometime in the shadowy bowels of history, Montes had come across this wonder pill. He could’ve been taking it that entire time—no, not could’ve, he must’ve.

I marvel at the thought that his real age might be close to sixty. Montes always struck me as ageless—not twenty, not sixty, not a hundred. There simply wasn’t a number I could ascribe to him. I find that even now, even knowing he’s as old as he is, my opinion of him doesn’t change.

I’m still pondering this discovery when Will turns my chin to face him. “The king is not immortal.” He enunciates each word.

“If he’s mortal,” I say, playing devil’s advocate, “then how do you explain him surviving getting shot? Or the explosion?”

Will shakes his head. “Another one of his medical discoveries—that must be at least part of the reason why he took over the hospitals first.”

I admit, it makes sense, especially after being healed by the Sleeper. I’ve seen firsthand what the king’s medical devices can accomplish. And it makes more sense than the king actually being immortal.

Strange, I preferred him an unnatural thing. It made who he was and what we had more okay in my mind.

“You can find out the rest.” Will still holds my chin in his hand, and his eyes move to my lips. “Find out what makes the king supposedly indestructible and kill him.”

“No.”

“What?” Wills looks genuinely surprised.

“What makes you think I’m willing to work with you and the Resistance?”

He drops his grip on my jaw. “Why wouldn’t you? Serenity, I’m trying to make things right.”

I laugh at that. “This is you making things right? Wow.”

He crowds me. “I’m not giving you a choice. We can torture you until you agree to this, if you want to be difficult. We also have enough damning material to blackmail you into following through should you get cold feet.”

His words are a slap in the face, and at first I think he’s joking, being hotheaded and speaking before he’s thought through his words. But one glance at his eyes tells me that he’s serious.

“You’d do that?” I ask, incredulous. “Blackmail me? Torture me? All just to get what you want?”

Will’s jaw clenches.

God, he would. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; this is the role he’s trained for. To be a general, one has to make hard choices, to set one’s feelings aside for the good of the people. Still, I can’t wrap my mind around this side of him. This is not the Will I remember.

“What happened to you?” I ask, peering at him.

“What happened to me? What happened to you?” he retorts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with the king.”

I fist my hands. “Fuck you, Will,” I whisper. “You don’t have to lie with your parents’ killer every night. You don’t have to live with the guilt and disgust that comes with trying to make that situation work, because as queen you have the opportunity to benefit the world.”

There’s a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but I’m not done.

“I’ve given every ounce of myself,” I say. “How dare you question my motives.”

Will reaches up and touches a lock of hair. “I love you Serenity, you know that,” he says. “But this is larger than us—we’re talking about millions of lives here. Millions of lives that we can save.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do right now?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not good enough.”

I lift my chin. “What happens if the king dies? Who leads the world then?”

“You would, Serenity, along with whoever you appointed.”

My breath catches. The Resistance’s plans are all so painfully simple. If I came into power, I’d push the agenda I’d been raised with, and I’d likely employ those trusted few people I’d worked and fought alongside. Will would be one of them. Hell, he and the Resistance might’ve taken this a step further and assumed Will would replace the king.