The Queen of All That Lives (The Fallen World Book 3) (26 page)

Chapter 51

Serenity

I storm out
of my office, gun clutched in my hand, my heart beating a mile a minute.

I head down the halls to the main entrance as the sound of gunfire joins the screams.

People run past me, and none seem to notice the queen is amongst them, so focused they are on their own self interests.

The second explosion hits the southwest wall of the palace, the shockwave making me stagger. The screams ratchet up.

I throw open the front doors. I get a clear view of the chaos outside the palace.

Trails of dust and debris arc outwards from the blast sites. Both wings of the palace are enveloped in flame. I can already smell the smoke on the wind.

The West’s aircraft are all invisible, as are their missiles. But I can hear them all.

I stand at the palaces threshold, my clothes and hair whipping about.

BOOM!

The explosion hits directly in front of the palace. I’m thrown through the air, across the entrance hall. My body slams into one of the great columns that line the space, the force of it knocking the wind out of my lungs and the gun out of my hand. I fall to the ground, landing hard on my hip.

Those haunting pictures that line the great entrance drop from their perches, smashing against the ground, becoming just one more piece of the growing rubble.

I glance towards my gun, the palms of my hands pressed against the ground.

“
Serenity!
”

I close my eyes and swallow. I knew he’d come for me.

I am a spider, and I’ve lured my husband into my web. I don’t bother looking above me, where several of the king’s cameras are recording this footage.

I push myself to my knees, my hand reaching for my father’s gun, the one still strapped to my side.

This is it. The moment I’ve feared since I left the West.

This will not be some detached act. It has always been personal between Montes and me.

When I look up again, I finally catch sight of my husband through the haze.

The king covers his head, and even amongst the chaos in the room he’s trying to make his way to me.

On either side of us, bombs detonate, one after the next after the next, down the entire length of the great hall. Just as planned.

The entire thing happens in slow motion.

The walls blast out, blowing plaster and stone across the room. There is a strange beauty to the synchrony of it all.

The columns that hold up the second story sway, but they don’t give out.

I don’t wait for the explosions to stop before I stand, drawing my gun. At some point, the blasts threw Montes to the ground. He’s halfway to his feet when he catches sight of me, gun in hand.

I’m not running towards him like I should be. I’m not panicking either. My true intentions are finally on display.

This must look like a savage reckoning—the king’s brutal queen covered in dust and ash, walking towards him amongst the flames.

Montes doesn’t appear betrayed or confused like I thought he would. It’s desolation that I see in his eyes.

He’s worked so hard for so long to keep me alive. All because that wretched heart of his loved me.

I have to draw on all the worst parts of me to keep my feet moving forward and my arm steady.

Perhaps Montes isn’t guilty of all the depravity I initially attributed to him. It doesn’t matter. Somewhere along the way, he lost his humanity. Whether or not he flicked that first domino and set events in motion no longer matters. We both have done too many unforgivable things. The blood on his hands, the blood on mine … It’s time for us to pay.

He rises to his feet, his eyes moving from my father’s gun to my face. He drinks in my expression, his eyes pained.

“I knew you hated me when we met, Serenity,” he says. “I knew you even hated me when I married you. But I never knew it ran this deep.”

The blackened lump of coal that is my heart breaks.

Another thunderous boom tears through the hall. The ground shakes and the fire flickers.

For a second, Montes turns his head to the side, listening to the sound of his palace going up in flames. Everything he spent lifetimes building is being torn down before his eyes.

The soldier in me who fought for the WUN, the one who lost her family and nation to this man, she revels in the retribution. The rest of me simply weeps.

Montes’s attention returns to me.

Had I thought before that he was majestic? Otherworldly? Now, even when he knows his empire is collapsing right in front of him and his wife has turned traitor, he looks untouchable. His shoulders are straight, his eyes still deep with secrets. That timeless face dares me to finish what I’ve begun.

“Do it.” Montes walks forward, lifting his chin in defiance. “I’m tired of fighting. If you think this is right, then do it.”

I taste smoke on my tongue. All around us, the king’s mansion burns.

There is no happy ending for people like us.

Cold resolve takes over.

I cock the gun and point it at the king.

All those years ago my father told me a story about my name, my birthright. I was named Serenity for the peace I brought my mother. Peace has been the very thing my life has lacked. And my father told me long ago that in order to find peace, I had to forgive.

In front of me is the one man who has always stood between me and that.

A tear slides down my cheek, and then another.

After all this time and all the awful things we’ve done to each other, I finally,
truly
understand my father’s words.

Montes. The Undying King of the East. My nightmare, my beautiful monster, my enemy and my soul mate.

I forgive him.

My throat tightens up.

This is what happens when you love and hate something.

I know what I have to do. I’ve always known.

“I love you, Montes,” I say.

His eyes widen at my admission.

And then I make good on my age old vendetta—

I pull the trigger and kill the undying king.

Chapter 52

Serenity

There are many
types of death.

There’s the literal one, the one I am most familiar with. You stab a man in the chest and watch him bleed out. If you do it right, you will see his life and his soul slip out with all that blood.

But then there are other types of death. No one ever talks about those. The death of your identity. The death of your dreams. The death of your innocence.

I know all of death’s pseudonyms, because he and I are very good friends. He’s been my shadow since I was a child.

And he’s here in this room with me and the king.

In an instant, the bullet cuts through skin, bone, and finally muscle. Not just any muscle either. The most important one.

The heart.

To kill the king, I had to kill a part of myself. A hundred years ago he took my heart and never gave it back. Montes might be the only person who would want that rotted organ of mine.

He clutches his chest, his eyes wide with shock. The king staggers, and my lips begin to tremble as I hold back all the emotion that’s welling inside me.

I holster my weapon, and grab the gun that I dropped earlier, clipping it back into place as well. And then I approach the king.

I walk amidst the flames to get to him. The most terrible thing in the world might be fire. That’s why hell is always imagined as an inferno.

But fire doesn’t just burn, it
transforms
. And here in this blazing building, as Montes’s palace and his life fall to ashes, it’s not the end. Of him. Of us. Of our efforts.

If you can survive the flames, what becomes of you?

The two of us are about to find out.

I hook my arms under the king’s shoulders. His eyes have slid shut. I begin to drag him, forcing my muscles to move faster than they ever have.

The clock is ticking, and time is not my friend.

From the wings of the entryway, Marco steps out.

He must’ve seen the entire thing. His eyes are red, though I can’t say whether it’s from remorse or the burning smoke that hangs thick throughout this place.

“Let me help you,” he says.

I shake my head, not slowing down in the least.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

“Call the men we’re rendezvousing with, then clear a path for me outside. I’ll be heading out the back main entrance.”

He hesitates.

“Now!” I bark.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He leaves my side, racing back down the long hallway, his form disappearing in the haze.

I begin to move in earnest, straining all my muscles to drag the king as quickly as possible.

I head to the nearest room, a room I requested Heinrich disable the cameras in. Up until now, the representatives have been watching a live feed of the king and me vis-à-vis
 
the palace’s security cameras.

That’s about to change.

To the representatives, it will appear that the explosions took the system out. But it was deliberate.

Inside the room, five soldiers wait, a gurney at their feet. As soon as the door closes, they rush to help me, loading Montes onto the stretcher.

Beyond them, the mirror at the back of the room has already been shot out. Beyond it, I see the shadowy hall of the king’s no-longer-secret passageways. I grab an edge of the gurney alongside the other soldiers, and together we step into the passageway.

And then we run.

Everything down to the last detail of this day has been carefully crafted to look spontaneous. Believable.

But it’s all a lie.

The entryway, this guest room—all of it was picked for a specific reason. These were the closest rooms to my crypt. Marco doesn’t know that, but I do, and so does Heinrich.

Still, there’s a good twenty-five yards between us and my Sleeper and only so long that the human body can return from death unharmed.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

“Hurry!” I shout.

We pass through the double doors that lead to the subterranean room, and then we trip down the marble steps in a mad rush to get the king into the Sleeper. As we descend, the moat, the walkway, and then, finally, the golden Sleeper all come into view.

This should work.

I’m betting that it does.

I’ve learned quite a few things from the king, and one of them is gambling. I doubt the king ever imagined I’d take this to heart, or that he’d pay for it with his life.

The six of us make it down the stairs, and then our footsteps are pounding against the marble floor. The roof above us shivers with each muffled explosion. From what I’ve learned, this room was designed to survive an earthquake. Or an attack.

Heinrich waits for us next to the Sleeper, a scowl on his face. As soon as we get to him, the soldier and I hoist the king’s body into the very Sleeper I lay inside for a hundred years.

And then the victim becomes the villain, and the villain the victim. The king and I have utterly swapped roles.

I only have a moment to stare down at him.

I hope I’ll be able to gaze at his face again. I hope, but I doubt it.

The king’s men hoist the Sleeper’s lid back into place, and the machine flares to life. The readout of this one is on the back of the machine, hidden from view by a removable golden panel.

I go to read it, but Heinrich catches my arm and gives me a warning look. “You don’t have time for this.”

“I need to know that he’s okay.”

The grand marshal gives me a look that’s scarily similar to the ones General Kline used to give me. “Your Majesty, you have a job to finish. Be strong, so that the men that have died today will not have done so in vain.”

If I could, I would stay rooted here until I was positive the king was completely healed, but Heinrich’s right.

I draw in a deep breath and nod.

“The body?” I ask.

“It’s waiting for you in the passageways, just as we discussed.”

I place a hand on the Sleeper. The machine will save my husband. I have to believe that. “Montes stays inside this until I return, or until … the alternative.” I can’t have him foiling me this far in.

“I will see you tomorrow, my queen.”

I stare at the officer in the eyes. I don’t think either of us actually believes that, but I incline my head anyway.

“Be safe my queen,” he says.

The last thing I’ll be is safe.

Chapter 53

Serenity

The body I
drag out of the palace is burned past the point of recognition. The mutilation is intentional since the body is not that of the king.

It’s Marco. The original one.

I gave him the death he deserved. As much as I hated the man, I know in my heart of hearts this is how he would want his final death to go. His life for his friend’s.

I glance back down at the body. Heinrich’s men were really liberal with the lighter fluid.

This isn’t going to work.

It can’t possibly.

Soon after I exit the palace, I catch sight of Marco—the living one. He jogs up to me, unwittingly grabbing his double’s legs and helping me carry him down the back steps.

Around us the palace still burns, and I can hear the sound of gunfire as the king’s men fight the ground troops the WUN brought in as a distraction.

So many men will die today. I hope this will be the last bits of death that this war will claim.

“What took you so long?” Marco asks as we cross the gardens, winding our way around the elaborate hedges, some of which are on fire.

I give him a look that plainly says,
Are you fucking kidding me?

“I’m dragging a grown man,” I say.

He grunts, like I have a point.

We make our way to the beach, where a small group waits. Heinrich’s men have been ordered to avoid attacking us unless it would appear suspicious not to. But they are legitimately preoccupied at the moment, so the need doesn’t arise. Now we just have to avoid getting hit by stray bullets.

When Marco and I arrive on the sand, the WUN men close in on us. Amongst them is Styx Garcia, his scars even more prominent in person.

He stares at me with wonder. “The mythical queen in the flesh.” He bows his head, but he can’t quite tear his eyes from me. “An honor.”

Yeah, whatever.

Some of the soldiers take the body from Marco and me and began to load it into the boat.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Styx. He hasn’t stopped staring at me.

“Meeting you in person, as promised. I am escorting you and the king’s former right-hand,” he gestures to Marco without looking at him, “to the West.”

My gaze cuts to Marco, who’s openly scowling at Styx.

“Alright,” I say with a shrug, brushing past him to board the boat. This is where my control in the situation begins to unravel. If the West thought this was a decent idea, then I’ll go along with it. And if I happen to kill the leader of the First Free Men en route, that’s on them.

One of the WUN soldiers steps in front of me. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” one of them says, “but we can’t let you bring your weapons onboard.”

I glance back at Marco, who shrugs. “It’s their policy,” he says as he divests himself of his weapons. They hit the shallow water we stand in with a splash.

I’ve been here before. I’m not leaving my father’s gun.

“You’re not taking my weapons, and I don’t give a shit if you think this flies in the face of diplomacy.”

“Your Majesty,” one of the soldiers says, “the representatives—”

Fuck the representatives.

“I can walk right back into the palace, douse the flames, and continue to war with the West as the Queen of the East,” I say. “You and I both know I have the backing of the people. So I suggest you let me take my damn guns and we get on with it.”

They don’t look like they’re going to get on with anything.

“Let the queen have her weapons,” Styx says, crowding in close and covering my hand, which is resting on my holster, with his own.

I tighten my jaw. Those mad eyes of his bore into me, and they contain no little amount of heat.

I can feel Marco stiffening at my side, and I swear I’d say he was acting protective.
He was in love with a woman who looked just like me.
Of course he’s being protective.

I shoulder past both of them, stepping onto the boat, and no one else tries to stop me.

Once we’re all boarded, the motorboat cuts through the water, moving out into open water. This time, I don’t get seasick, though I’m not surprised. At the moment I’m too hopped up on adrenaline and desensitized from the earlier attack to notice something like nausea.

“It is a strange thing,” Styx says, looking over at the body. “The king is very badly burned, and yet you appear unharmed.”

I expected this.

I raise an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t be so strange if you’d been there.”

Styx cocks his head. “Perhaps. Or perhaps our sleeping queen is now a scheming queen.”

I lean back in my seat and squint up at the sun, ignoring the stares. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

The tension on the boat ratchets up at my words.

“We will.”

At some point
we exchange boat for helicopter, then helicopter for aircraft.

I’m pensive as I stare out the window. These might be the last hours of my life. I should savor them. Instead, I spend that time letting my mind drift, unwilling to let my thoughts settle on any one thing.

Marco sits at my side. Every several minutes, he glances over like he wants to talk. Each time he does, I tense. What could we possibly have to say to one another? He betrayed his friend, and I know he thinks I did as well.

“Garcia has been staring at you since we boarded,” he finally says.

“I know,” I say, not bothering to look away from the window.

Marco’s voice lowers. “He’s not a good man.”

“I know,” I repeat. These aren’t epiphanies or anything.

Marco grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “He’s been married twice,” he says, his voice low. “Both women bore strong resemblances to you. Both died mysteriously.”

“What do you want me to do about it, Marco?” I hiss. “Now take your goddamned hand off of me.”

Reluctantly, he releases my chin. “I can’t protect you once we’re in WUN territory.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” I’m insulted he thinks I need protecting, and I’m even more annoyed that he thinks I’m ignorant about Styx’s perversions. If there ever was a man who I should be immediately wary of, Styx would be it.

“Just be careful. He’s going to come for you at some point. I want you to be ready.”

I stare at him for several seconds. My eyes flick up to Styx, who is indeed still watching me, and I nod.

I can already tell Styx is not someone to underestimate.

Not an hour
after our conversation, the aircraft begins its descent.

The walled city comes into view. It looks even more magnificent as we circle it, the bright blue water of the Pacific nicely framing the city nestled in the coastal cliffs.

We touch down shortly after that, bouncing in our seats as the aircraft’s tires skid down the runway.

We’re here.

As soon as the engines die down, I stand. Resolve steals over me.

I will be the king’s Trojan horse.

That’s the promise I made all those years ago. To make it past the gates and wreak destruction from the inside out. But unlike Troy, there are no heroes here. Just killers and corpses.

I head down the aisle, and as I pass Styx, his head swivels to follow my movements. I can sense his excitement. Just like the representatives, I’m sure he thinks of me as nothing more than a war prize.

I am exactly that, and I will lead to the downfall of this nation.