Don’t speak, I want to tell him.

I can see the man’s body shaking. “N-no, merely—”

“You said ‘how do we know the queen’s not still working with them?’ didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“How do we, indeed?” the king says. “Perhaps, you know something I don’t about the queen’s loyalties? I’m sure she’s had plenty of time to deceive us between getting shot and fighting cancer.”

The man’s gone pale. The officers sitting at his sides are scooting away from him, like being too close might make them guilty by association.

When I glance at Montes, a smile is playing on his lips. He’s a cat that’s caught a mouse and is now toying with his food. “Or maybe it was when the Resistance kidnapped your queen and threatened her with torture?” Montes snaps his fingers. “Oh wait, she never gave into their demands.”

My breath catches when I realize that my interrogation must’ve been recorded. Somehow the king got his hands on it.

Montes’s voice goes cold. “How do we know you’re not working with the Resistance, Ronaldo?”

The man, Ronaldo, shakes his head furiously, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. “I’d never do such a thing. Please, Your Majesty, forgive me.”

I and every other person in this room—including Ronaldo—know there’s nothing he can say that will save him. This is a witch-hunt, and guilty or innocent, Montes has found his first suspect.

The king nods to Marco, who’s seated to my right. I’d managed to ignore the asshole so far, but now my eyes move to him. Marco pushes out of his chair and approaches the man who spoke, the king’s guards leaving their stations to flank him.

Now I understand why these men have kept so quiet. Speaking means catching the king’s attention. Defeated nations everywhere can testify that garnering his attention is never a good thing. Hell, I can testify to that.

Montes has murder in his eyes. I stand abruptly, my chair scraping back. When his gaze meets mine, I shake my head. “I will not sit by and watch this.”

The room’s fallen silent, save for Ronaldo’s quiet sobs as Marco and the guards drag him out. The king’s just proved how he responds to challenges of any kind.

I, however, don’t give two shits.

The king’s arms are folded and he pinches his lower lip as he studies me. “You don’t get a choice.”

“I do if you want my help.”

The king takes two ominous steps towards me, until he towers over me. “You might be my queen, but I am the leader, Serenity, and I make the decisions. And fuck it if I’ll let you make demands of me.”

So much for being equals.

I push past him, and he grabs my wrist. “I haven’t dismissed you,” he growls.

I laugh. “I don’t answer to you, Montes. You better fucking remember who you married.” There are millions of demure ladies who would’ve done his bidding in a heartbeat, who would’ve carved out their own identities to become whoever they thought he wanted. And yet he chose me, the one woman who won’t do that, the one woman who’s as likely to explode as he is.

Yanking my wrist out of his grip, I stalk out of the room, and no one stops me.

I don’t know where I’m going, but it’s a good thing I’m unarmed or else someone might get hurt. As it is, I’m eyeing the coat of arms that’s on display ahead of me, and I’m seriously considering maiming the thing.

Behind me the door opens.

“Serenity.”

I rotate and see Montes headed towards me, his eyes angry. When he gets to me he wraps a hand around my throat and pushes me up against the wall. A knee slides between mine.

“You really shouldn’t have left the room.”

I should be pissing my pants at the look in his eye and the way he presses himself against me, but I’m not. I’m no longer frightened of this man. I don’t know when that happened. The king has always been my nightmare. But he’s not anymore. It’s just further proof that I’m maladaptive.

I lift my chin. “Are you going to cart me away like you did Ronaldo?”

“I’m considering it.”

I don’t get the chance to reply.

Montes captures my mouth with his. Fear, anger, lust—they must all function on the same wavelength because one moment I’m pissed at the king, and the next I’m twining my tongue with his, my breaths coming in short, heavy pants.

His free hand grabs my hip and pulls me even closer to him. Close enough that I can tell he wants me. I find it curious that insubordination—and the resulting anger—could turn him on. Do people get intimate when they really just want to throttle each other? If so, I believe I’d excel at it.

“I think I will cart you away after all,” Montes murmurs. He bends to pick me up. I’m slammed back into reality.

I rip my mouth from his. “We can’t do this right now.”

The king’s eyebrows rise, and he smirks like I’m funny. “We’re the rulers of the entire world; we can do whatever it is we want.”

“But I still want to punch you in the face.”

The king clucks his tongue. “My queen has never heard of angry sex. I think a woman like you would enjoy it.”

The door we exited from opens. “Your Majesty, the Resistance just raided one of the warehouses of our weapons supplier. They took most of the armaments stored inside, including technology that hasn’t officially hit the market.”

Montes curses. His hold tightens on me before he releases me—though not completely. His hand slides down my arm and clasps my hand. He begins walking, tugging me along behind him.

I halt in my tracks, causing Montes to glance back at me. “I don’t want you to hurt Ronaldo.”

If I’m conceding something by returning to the king’s conference room, then he’s going to have to concede something, his earlier words be damned.

Montes narrows his eyes. “That man was the one who coordinated the atomic blasts that destroyed your nation all those years ago.”

The news is a slap in the face.

“Still want to save him?” the king presses.

My throat constricts, but I force my words out. “Killing him will not resurrect my people.”

The king tilts his head, like he has all the time in the world to ponder my request. “I know what you’re doing, Serenity,” he says, finally. “He’ll return unharmed if you come with me and assist us with intel on the Resistance. If you don’t, I can promise you that you’ll never see Ronaldo again.” I can see it in his eyes too; he’ll end that man’s life.