I study his features as he rinses me off. He’s caring for me, I realize. This is what friends do, what family and lovers do. I must indeed be a strange, strange girl to covet these moments with the king more than the fancy dinners he arranges.

He releases my foot, and then we’re moving again.

The king’s palaces have always looked ominous to me, and tonight’s no different. Beneath the stars, we have no ranking, no responsibilities, no civilization, but inside this building that all changes.

We cross the threshold, and I bid goodbye to the few threads of freedom I found outside. I let myself lose count of all the twists and turns that take us to Montes’s room.

Our room, I correct as we step inside.

I hover near the door. A big four-poster bed looms in front of me. I have to get in it with the king. I sober up instantly.

Most of my memory has returned. I know what we do in beds like this one, but I still feel like a stranger in my own body. And after our dinner in the greenhouse and our walk through the gardens, I’m feeling strangely vulnerable.

The slick sounds of material sliding off jolts me. I glance over at Montes just as he removes his last article of clothing. His deeply tan body is fully on display, and I’m having trouble fighting my own impulses. It takes most of my energy just to pretend he’s not every bit as lovely as he knows he is.

He pads over to me. His hands brush my hair off my shoulders. “Scared?”

How have I ended up here? With no family save for Montes, the very person that took them all away from me.

“Of you? No.”

It’s my conflicted emotions that scare me. They’re sucking me under, and I’m afraid that once they do, I won’t like the woman they fashion me into.

“Then come to bed.”

It’s not a request, it’s a dare, and he punctuates it by pulling loose the tie around my dress. The fabric parts with a little encouragement from the king, and then my outfit slides off.

Montes circles me, his hand trailing across my flesh. With a flick of his wrist he undoes my bra. His fingers move to my panties, and he hooks them around the thin bands of material and yanks them down before returning once more to face me.

I blink, startled, as we stand naked across from one another.

Montes’s eyes dip down and then he’s backing up towards the bed. “Come, Serenity.”

I hesitate, but even this is a lost cause. He’s my husband. This is a part of the package.

Following him to bed, I slip beneath the sheets and keep my back to Montes. My muscles tense. I’m not going to fall asleep anytime soon.

An arm snakes around my waist and Montes pulls me against his chest. I can feel every naked inch of him pressed along my back.

He breathes in my hair, nuzzling the shell of my ear. “I will never let you go, and I will never let you die. You will be mine, always.”

HANDS GLIDE OVER my legs. Am I in a dream or out of one? I can’t tell.

I crack my eyes open. Early morning light filters into the room, and my lips crack into a smile. As long as I live, the sight of it will never grow old.

Montes’s lips brush against mine, stealing my smile. The kiss is quick, gentle, and his mouth’s gone before I can react at all.

He moves down my body, his hair tickling the skin of my chest as he drops lower.

I push myself up onto my elbows. “What are you doing?”

Montes skims a kiss along my ribcage, his rough cheek scraping my flesh. “Waking my wife up.”

This isn’t terribly out of character for him, but I’m still not used to it.

He presses my torso back to the mattress. His hand stays against my sternum until I stop resisting. His other slides lower. And lower.

I catch his wrist.

I’m so, so terribly conflicted, mostly because I enjoy doing this with the king.

“Let go, Serenity,” he says, gazing down at me. His eyes are too dark, his skin too tan, his teeth too white. His features are unnatural, just like the rest of him.

“You first,” I say.

Ever so slowly, he lifts his hand from my skin and holds it up in surrender. I don’t trust him to play by any sort of rules when it comes to being physical.

A knock on the door interrupts us.

He sighs. “Grab a robe.”

“Why?” I ask, but I’m already pushing myself out of bed and heading towards what looks to be a closet. The sheer quantity of clothing inside it has me reeling back. I’m not seeing a robe. This really would be easier if someone thinned out the clothes in here by a factor of ten.

I grab the first item I do see and don it. Too late I realize I’ve slipped on one of Montes’s button-downs, and now the door’s opening.

The king flashes me a heated look at my outfit. I want to knock the expression off his face. For his part, he’s managed to slide on a pair of lounge pants.

A group of women enter the room, and—oh God. No, please, no.

They’re carrying canvas bags in colors ranging from pink to black. I’ve seen those bags before. This doesn’t bode well.

“What’s going on?” I take a step back.

“Press conference in … ” he strides over to a dresser and picks up a watch resting on it, “three hours.”

“You’re telling me this now?”

“Someone has to keep you on your toes.” He flashes me a grin, like this is all good fun.

As soon as I reestablish myself here, I’m getting my own schedule.

The women bustle over to me, and my earlier fears are confirmed. They’re here to primp me up.