“You have no idea who I am,” I say.

Even though a screen and countless miles separate us, my hand is itching for my gun. I don’t like the way he looks at me.

To be fair, I don’t like the way most people look at me, but the way Styx does it … In another situation it would’ve earned him a bullet. It might still, depending on the way the future unfolds.

“I expected you to be violent, Serenity Freeman.”

“Lazuli,” I correct.

“But to watch you gun my men down in seconds …” He continues on as though I hadn’t spoken. “That, that surprised me.”

When I don’t react, he raises his eyebrows. “You did realize there was someone watching on the other end of that camera, didn’t you?”

He’s asking the wrong questions and giving the wrong kind of answers to mine. I don’t know what I was expecting from him, or what the correct response to my call would be, but this isn’t it.

He wants to understand me, I can tell. Capturing me would’ve allowed him all the time in the world for that, but he’s trying to make up for it now.

“I never planned on handing you over to them—the West.” The look in his face as he says that … this man better tread carefully, he’s setting all sorts of violent tendencies in me.

He leans back in his seat, watching me, his eyes unblinking. “So, how are you faring?” he asks.

I have a sick, sick admirer in Garcia. I assumed he’d be angry that I killed off his men.

“I’m fine.” That was my last attempt at being civil. Entertaining this man’s version of small talk is almost more than I can bear.

“What does your husband think of your being awake?” A flash of something enters his eyes. I would say it was jealousy, but I’ve seen that emotion so rarely that I doubt my own intuition. Not to mention that I don’t know this man. To be jealous of a stranger receiving attention from her husband …

He makes Montes seems normal, and that is an impressive feat.

“We are not friends, Garcia,” I say, my voice hard. “You are the leader of the terrorist group that attempted to capture me. Save the personal questions for men who must answer to you.”

His jaw tightens, and his gaze flicks off screen. He’s the only person I can see in the room, but I bet there are other people behind the camera, people that just overheard their leader get slighted by me.

“Do you know how much money and resources went into finding and retrieving you?” he hisses. This is the first glimpse I’ve gotten of the real Styx Garcia. “You wouldn’t be awake to sit here and insult me if it weren’t for me.”

The last of my patience evaporates.

I lean forward. “You are a fool if you think you’re going to get either my pity or my gratitude.” I’m just about done with this man. “You kidnapped me, I killed your men. I don’t regret it, and I imagine if our roles were reversed, a man like you would feel the same way.” Someone who collects scars the way Styx does has a taste for violence.

“Now,” I say, “we can continue with the slights, or we can discuss how we’re going to end this war.”

That has him straightening. I see the fist that he rests on his desk tighten and then release.

I take a deep breath. “I want to work with you, Garcia, but what I really need is someone who has an in with the West. Do you have that in?”

He folds his hands and taps his two pointer fingers against his chin as he studies me.

“Yes,” he finally says.

“I need to speak with them. Can you help me arrange that?”

Another pause. Then, “Yes—for a price.”

Chapter 21

Serenity

We talk for an hour. Unfortunately even by the time I end the call, that sickening shine in Garcia’s eyes still hasn’t waned.

Working with him might be a mistake.

I shut everything down and return it where I found it.

I sit back in the king’s chair and bring my folded hands my lips, musing on the situation I’m creating for myself.

I run my hands through my hair. If the king finds out everything I intend … he might very well change his mind and shove me back in that Sleeper. I don’t fear that nearly as much as I fear my plan will fail and the world will bear the fallout from it.

I stand and push the chair in.

I’m halfway to the door when a thought catches me off guard. I pause mid-step.

Slowly, I turn. My eyes land on the large gilded frame that hangs on the back wall of the king’s study. I remember something Montes told me, something about a second entrance to my crypt.

I might very well be staring at that second entrance right now.

Hesitantly, I head towards the back of the room and touch the expansive painting. My fingertips run over the brushstrokes before wrapping around the edges of the frame.

I give it a swift tug, but the added force isn’t necessary. It swings open with ease.

Just like the other painting, a door and a thumbprint scanner rest behind this one.

This is the second entrance to my crypt, the one the First Free Men came through.

Out of curiosity, I press my thumb to the fingerprint scanner. It’s worked once before. I wait an agonizing several seconds, and then …

A green light blinks, and the door hisses as it unlocks, swinging inwards.

The king authorized me to enter his secret passages. It makes sense; if the palace is ever under fire, this might be our best chance at escape. The king and I have already lived through one instance where I was locked out from such a passage.