I take off the crown. I flip it over in my hands. My audience has gone quiet.

“I’ve also been told that I should wear this. That this is what you want to see.” I look up from the crown, towards the people watching me. “This,” I hold up the headpiece, “means nothing. I am not above you. I am one of you.

“The world is interested in telling you all the ways we’re different. You have the East and the West. Ruler and ruled. Rich and poor.

“But they lie.”

I was never a very good orator. But this is different. The words are coming to me, born from a fire in my soul. I’m angry and excited and so very, very full of life.

“I killed many men during my time as a soldier,” I say. In the past, admitting something like this would be a disaster. But these people already know I’m no idle ruler. “And I saw many men die. They all bled the same. We are all the same. And this,” I hold up the crown. “This can go fuck itself.” I fling the crown offstage, towards some of the king’s soldiers. Much as I’d like to give it back to the people, I fear something as precious as gold would be enough to draw blood between civilians.

The audience bellows at the sight. This is fervor. This is revolution.

“We are all the same,” I say. “Let’s end this war together. As equals.”

The crowd begins thumping their chests, the rhythm picking up pace until it’s one continuous sound.

My eyes cut to the king, who stands just offstage. He rubs his chin, his eyes glinting as he watches me. When he notices me looking, he inclines his head, and the beginnings of a smile form along his lips.

Our enemies should be afraid.

I am a bomb, and they’ve just lit the fuse.

Chapter 34

Serenity

We leave Kabul shortly after the speech, our next stop, Shanghai. The pacing of our itinerary was brutal to begin with, but now that figureheads have been disappearing, we’re moving through the tour at a breakneck speed.

I fall asleep fully clothed on the airplane’s bed, my face smooshed against the sheets. I rouse only once, when a familiar someone covers me with a blanket.

Montes’s fingers trail down my cheek. My eyes open just enough to see him staring intently at me.

“I—” I almost say it then. Those three dreaded words that I’ve kept from the king for so long. It’s equally shocking how natural they come, and how badly they want to be let out.

The king’s touch stills.

“I’m happy you’re here,” I murmur.

“Always,” he says, his fingers moving once more.

I’m already falling back asleep, like I didn’t almost just surrender the last bit of my heart.

I’m jerked awake when the plane dips sharply to the left. I grip the edges of the mattress to keep from rolling.

The door to the back cabin is closed but on the other side I hear raised voices, their tones laced with controlled panic.

Quickly, I get up, shaking off the last of my grogginess, and stumble to the door.

When I open it I see Montes on the other side, heading straight for my room, presumably to wake me.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Three enemy aircraft share our airspace,” he says, his expression grim.

I glance out the window but see nothing.

“Are they armed?” I ask. It’s a ridiculous question. Of course they are.

“Undoubtedly,” Montes echoes my thoughts, “but they haven’t shot us down yet.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than I hear a distant hiss.

I’ve missed out on a hundred years of civilization, and yet in all that time weaponry hasn’t changed much. Not if the sound I’m hearing is a—

“Missile incoming,” the pilot informs us over an intercom. “Engaging the ABM system.”

It’s a fancy way of saying we’re going to blow that fucker out of the sky. That is, if it doesn’t hit us first.

The noise gets louder, and louder, and then—

BOOM!

The sky lights up as a fireball unfurls some distance away from us. A split second later the shock wave hits us, sending the plane canting, and throwing us idiots not belted in across the cabin.

I slam into the wall, my body dropping into the row of seats beneath it. When I look up, I see Montes on the floor nearby, crawling towards me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. “You?”

“Yeah.” He exhales the word out. He jerks his head towards the seats. “Strap in. It’s going to get rough.”

I right myself and begin to do just that. The plane starts losing altitude rapidly. I grab my stomach as we plummet. An alarm goes off and the overhead lights start to flash.

Montes makes it to the seat next to me and straps himself in.

“Has this happened to you before?” I ask.

He grabs my hand, his face stony. “Yes.”

The king’s men follow our lead, scrambling into seats and hastily buckling themselves in.

“And how did that end?” I ask. He obviously survived it.

“I was in the Sleeper for a month.” He doesn’t elaborate, which means it was likely worse than what I might imagine.

I hear another distant hiss start up as our plane continues to drop from the sky.

“ABM system reengaged,” the pilot announces.

Another explosion follows the first, rocking the plane further. The people that still aren’t buckled go tumbling across the cabin once more. One of them is Marco, and he falls close to my feet.