The two of us are thrown forward, and I hear our driver curse.

Out the back windows a fireball lights up the night.

The undying king and his mythical queen were nearly killed as they ate dinner from dainty china. The West would’ve loved that story.

Next to me, Serenity is transfixed by the explosions, and her expression makes my blood run cold.

Whatever soft emotions overtook her a moment ago, they’re gone.

I wish she feared more and lived through less because right now, I don’t see desolation—or even anger—on her pretty face.

Just ruthless resolve.

Serenity

Tonight we sleep inside one of the king’s garrisons, located just outside Shanghai proper.

Montes is taking no risks.

The two of us lie together in a windowless cement block that’s buried dozens of feet below the earth.

Once again, I’m back in the fucking ground.

The subterranean structure is the closest I’ve ever felt to my bunker. And I hate it. I hate the very thing that’s made me me. I can’t decide whether the king’s lavish lifestyle has rubbed off on me, or whether it’s simply the knowledge that I’ve spent lifetimes belowground—it doesn’t honestly matter. I’m devastated anyway.

First to find the king is no longer evil, then to find I can no longer passively endure what I once readily accepted.

Who am I?

“A queen.”

I startle at the king’s voice. Only then do I realize I spoke out loud.

“My wife,” he continues. “The woman that’s going to change the world—the woman that already has.”

I roll over in bed and gaze at Montes.

He brushes my hair off my face, his fingers lingering. When did he get so achingly sweet?

He must sense my inner turmoil because he says, “This is right. What you’re doing is right.”

Color me shocked. I assumed the king was only going along with my peace campaign because of our deal. But to hear him admit that he essentially believes in me and my cause … it’s doing strange things to my heart.

His eyes move above us, around the room. “Was this what it was like, living in that bunker?”

I nod, not bothering to look away from him.

His gaze returns to mine. “I should hate this,” he says, “but I would take a lifetime of living underground if it meant you’d be by my side.”

I swallow.

I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to feel this. But only because I do—I really, really do, and I can’t fathom this vision breaking my heart. Montes, in his infinite cruelty, did this very thing to me a hundred years ago. He convinced me of all the ways he couldn’t live without me. And I fell for him, even if I never admitted it, and I paid for that terrible love with my life.

Now, this wise, decent Montes is demanding more than just my body all over again.

I knew this would happen, but oh, how I’m—

“You’re afraid.” The mind reader says this like it’s some great revelation.

I open my mouth, fully prepared to lie. “I’m not—”

“Oh,” he interrupts, tilting my chin up, “but you are.”

My nostril flare as our gazes hold. And hold. And hold.

And then he sees something he shouldn’t.

“My God,” he utters. His chest expands as he takes in air. And then his mouth descends on mine.

And now I have to deal with the very real possibility that I lost my last bit of power, because the king, I think he knows.

He knows that I love him.

I wake in the middle of the night to an empty bed. I lay there for several seconds staring up at the cement ceiling before I realize what woke me.

Light.

Just like the bunker I spent many years in, there is no natural light in this subterranean fortress. When the lights are out, you can literally see nothing. But I can see the cement ceiling dimly.

I sit up and search for the source of the light. It comes from the edges of the door, which isn’t fully closed. I can hear voices in the distance.

What’s happened now? And why wasn’t I woken?

Getting out of bed, I hastily pull on a pair of fatigues, wincing when my feet touch the chilly cement floor. I shove on my boots, then leave our room.

Out in the hall, a single sentry stands guard. I nod to him, then head down the corridor toward the sound of voices.

Ahead of me, the hallway bends sharply to the right. I’m almost around the corner when I make out who’s speaking.

“How could you not tell me?” I hear the king hiss.

“They never told me,” Marco replies.

I hadn’t seen or heard from the king’s right-hand since before we left for the dinner.

“Do you realize how badly that could’ve gone?”

“How could I not? You forget that I care for her too,” Marco says, his voice heated.

“No,” Montes’s voice is low and lethal, “let’s be clear about this: she is not Trinity. She is not yours. Serenity is mine.”

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I’ve already heard too much. Before either man knows I’m there, I return to our room and slip back in bed.

If I had heard that all correctly, then Marco had loved my clone.

Can this world get any more fucked-up?

Turns out, it can.

Chapter 38

Serenity

Seoul. Our next stop.

This is no longer the same tour we started the trip believing it was. The meetings with regional leaders have been cut out completely, our stay in each local has been drastically shortened to just the speeches, and our immediate surroundings are now safe rather than luxurious.