Bastard. Now look who’s blackmailing whom.

“Deal?” He smiles like the devil he is.

I run my tongue over my teeth and nod. “Deal.”

I spend the rest of the day and well into the evening discussing what I know of the inner workings of the Resistance. My words will jeopardize hundreds of Resistance members, people I once worked with. The thought leaves a bad taste at the back of my mouth, but it doesn’t stop me from telling Montes and his men everything they need to know.

The war’s over. We should be focusing on healing communities, not more violence. Yet we can’t. Not when stolen military weapons are in the hands of a terrorist organization. Because that’s what the Resistance is and what it’s always been, a terrorist organization. Vigilantes that use intimidation and coercion to fight for a cause they believe in.

When I stood with the WUN, I never minded their activities. It was enough that we were fighting a common enemy. Now that the war is over, the violence is no longer excusable. No matter where my allegiance once lay, I can’t risk more innocent lives lost by staying quiet.

By the time Montes and I head back to our room, the mansion has a stillness to it that only comes with the deep night.

The king’s hands are shoved into his pockets, and there’s a vertical crease between his brows.

Once again my opinion of the king subtly shifts. Worries plague him. Another weakness. Another sign that he has a conscience.

He catches me looking, and the edge of his mouth tips up. He reaches for my hand.

We are the epitome of dysfunction. Our marriage won’t work—it shouldn’t. We are miserable human beings. And yet, when he laces his fingers through mine and I feel the thrill of contact, that tiny flame of hope I carry around flares up.

Anything’s possible. From darkness to light, war to peace—hate to love.

The king brings the back of my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. The entire time he stares at me like we’re sharing a secret. We are. We’re two monsters that might not be quite so monstrous after all.

Anything’s possible.

Chapter 26

Serenity

Before we leave Geneva, there’s something of great importance to me here. A visit I’ve been anticipating and dreading. I come to find out it’s the reason the king stopped here instead of his Mediterranean palace.

I enter the morgue alone—well, as alone as I’m allowed outside the king’s estate. Today that means two guards flank me. Montes has wisely made himself scarce.

My eyes fall on the body in the middle of the room. He’s already laid out, and suddenly, he’s the only thing I have eyes for.

In four quick strides I cross the room. The medical examiner stands off to the side, and my guards fall away. It’s just me and him.

My father.

Before I can think twice about it, I take his hand. It’s cold and the texture is somehow all wrong. He’s been gone long enough that, even embalmed, there is no pretending that he’s a living thing. Still, I can’t seem to let him go.

My gaze travels to his face. The blood has been washed from him, and the bullet hole in his forehead’s been sealed up.

A tear drips onto the metal table beside my father’s head. “I was supposed to die with you,” I whisper to him.

The loneliness of my situation slams into me. How am I supposed to live if the one person who mattered most to me is now dead?

Killed by my husband’s people. How could I forgive Montes for this? What kind of weak woman would that make me?

“I’m so sorry, Dad.” For a moment I wait for him to respond. I know what he would say: Don’t be. I’m so proud of you.

A memory from two years ago floats in. I’d been so angry at the king, angry at all the senseless death.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you know why your mother and I named you ‘Serenity’?” he’d asked me.

I shook my head; I had no idea where he was going with this.

“Serenity means to be at peace,” he explained. “When your mother was pregnant, she said the thought of you gave her that—peace.”

Ironic that my life had known so very little of it.

“You’ll never live up to your namesake if you don’t forgive, Serenity.”

“Dad—” He managed to use my one weakness, my mother, against me.

“No,” he shook his head, “this is not an argument. What you choose to do with all that anger is your business. But you can’t control the world; someone will always be there to wrong you. It’s your choice to let it go. Only you can decide the woman you want to be.”

It’s finally time to let it go. I’m not excusing Montes’s atrocities, nor all the monstrous acts that his war brought with it. No, I’m releasing my bitterness so that I can find peace within myself. I want to be that woman my father spoke of, the woman my mother might’ve imagined I’d become.

Perhaps my father was against my current circumstance. It doesn’t change the fact that he always wanted the best for me. He’d want this, serenity.

By the time we arrive back at the king’s palace by the sea, my father’s remains are on their way to becoming ash. I didn’t think he’d want to be buried in the ground after spending so many years down in the bunker.

Once he’s cremated, I intend to scatter his ashes over our homeland, just like we did my mother’s.

I walk into Montes’s room—our room—and see the bed I lost my virginity in. I have mixed feelings about this place, but it’s definitely better than Geneva, where memories of my father haunt the halls.

Montes comes in behind me. His arms weave around my torso and across my stomach. It’s clear what feelings this room stirs in him.

He places a kiss along my neck. This hasn’t happened in awhile—angry hallway encounter not withstanding. Surgeries, kidnapping, and healing wounds have kept us apart. But as the king’s hands glide down my torso, I can tell that’s all about to change.

I turn my head to face him. The look he gives me commands attention—demands I quiet my thoughts so that I can be filled with his. I see his charisma, his charm. It’s what everyone notices, but below all those hardened layers is a shred of the man he must have been long ago. Someone who wasn’t nearly so cruel. Perhaps it isn’t just me who’s capable of becoming a better person.