One bad memory follows the last. My mom’s broken neck, soldiers with glassy eyes. The first four men I killed—my friends watch me with wary eyes after that. A bomb that takes over the sky and hides the sun. My city, my home, my childhood crush and everyone else is obliterated in a single blast.

Then, radiation, everywhere. In the food, the water, our bodies. Civilizations swiftly fell into depravity when the last pillar of humanity gave out.

My father’s body cradled in my arms.

I feel the loss all over again. Fresh. New. As though in this moment I lose my mother, my father, my land, my freedom all at once.

Through it all is a single face, the answer to all my anger and anguish.

Montes Lazuli.

The king did this. I blink back tears. He did this and now I’m his. Bound to the root of the evil I tried so hard to stop. It’s almost unfathomable. There is no fairness in the world. There is no kindness.

A sick feeling twists my gut. I’ve laid with the king. I’ve let him into my body. Worse, I’ve let him into my heart.

I only have a moment to register that I’m going to be sick before I begin to heave. But there’s nothing left in my empty stomach to purge. The queasiness doesn’t abate.

“Serenity!” Montes’s voice cuts through, and it’s so concerned. I jerk myself away from the monster.

More memories force their way through and I press my palms into my eyes. I scream as bloody, broken bodies flood my mind. And behind it all, the kind’s white, white smile. I want to smash it in and not stop until those teeth rip up my knuckles and fall out of his mouth. I let out a sob because I like the very smile I also detest.

It’s the face behind every nightmare I’ve ever had, and the face that awakened my heart. It’s ripping, bleeding. This shouldn’t be the way of things, hating and loving something at the same time.

But it’s not enough for my mind to end there. I feel the squeeze of my heart as a memory of the king holding me sneaks its way in. Another of his fearful expression when he learned of my cancer. The unguarded face he wore when nothing separated us. And through it all I see his eyes, filled with a bottomless reservoir of emotions reserved for me.

The heartless king has found his heart after all. It rests beneath my ribcage. God save me, he swapped mine for his when I wasn’t looking. And now we’re stuck—me with the weight of his death count, him with the guilt of my suffering.

Flesh and bone aren’t meant to contain all this. The mind shouldn’t stay sane when the world’s fallen to chaos, and love shouldn’t be able to grow in the wastelands of our consciences.

But, God save us all, it does.

It does.

CHAPTER 7

Serenity

IT’S OVER. FOR now.

But it isn’t, because I have to live with a past I might’ve been better off forgetting. My memories are horrifying. I’m a woman remade—but into this thing.

I’d asked myself what kind of person married the king. Now I know. Now, I know.

I straighten, drawing in a ragged breath, my hand just above my stomach.

The world around me sharpens. The green hedges that rise up all around us, the cyan sky beyond, the marble statue of a woman holding her loose robes against her body.

“Serenity.”

I focus on the voice. Montes stands in front of me, his brows pinched together. For once he doesn’t appear overconfident. He reaches out for me, but lets his hand drop.

What feral expression must I be wearing to scare him off?

“What do you remember?” he asks.

“That I hate you.” A hate so deep and vast that it’s blackened my soul. Even now I fight the urge to lunge at him and make good my age-old vendetta.

“Ah, yes,” he says, sliding his hands into his slacks, unaware of how close I am to snapping. “I’m well acquainted with your hate.” He’s not even fazed.

We’ve done this before. Traded words like we’ve traded wounds. That puts me at a disadvantage because I have more memories to unearth, and he knows how to handle me.

I don’t like to be handled.

Montes doesn’t remove his hands from his pockets, but he does extend the crook of his arm towards me, like I’m some kind of lady.

I dropped that ruse the moment my father died in my arms.

I’m about to reject him when I notice our audience. People have planted themselves everywhere—at windows, on benches, strolling by. They act as though they’re not transfixed by us.

I have a duty to uphold. I married the king to save my land. My hate is a vulnerability, one the Resistance preyed upon when they took me. I can’t let these people see it. The king and I have many, many battles ahead of us, and our relationship is the least of them.

The world’s still in turmoil and the king—the ruler of it all—has used fear to win his subjects over. I know quite a bit about fear. It pulls people into line, but it also draws in the predators. The moment he shows weakness, they’ll attack.

I can’t let that happen, even now when I’d like to see him suffer. So I take his arm and let him lead me away like I’m a frail, dainty thing. All the while, I flash hard looks at those that catch my eye.

For I, too, am something to fear.

“Do I finally have my Serenity back?” the king asks, leaning his head towards mine.

“I am not yours.”

“You are.”

“No.”

He stops us in front of a bubbling fountain, our audience still pretending not to watch.