“It was my mother’s.”

“Mmm,” he says, and that’s the end of that.

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you’re not.” I can’t get my mouth to shut up. Not right now when I’m caught in the arms of my mother’s killer. “She died when your army dropped a bomb near our home.”

Now I’ve caught his attention. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look angry. More like I intrigue him.

“It was the same day that I received the scar on my face,” I continue.

The king’s gaze moves to my scar. “It seems I’ve caused you a lot of pain. I’m sorry for that.”

I smile sardonically. “Save your lies for someone who will believe them.”

The king’s grip on my hand tightens. I’m in dangerous waters. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“A man who was truly sorry would never have dropped the bomb to begin with.” My breath catches as soon as the words leave my mouth. Have I gone too far?

The king scrutinizes me, and then ever so slowly, a smile appears. “I could have you killed for what you’ve said to me.”

Fear grips my heart, but I call his bluff. “You won’t.”

He spins me. “Oh, and why is that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I amuse you.” It’s hard to admit that all I’m good for here is his entertainment.

His gaze drinks me in, and he presses me closer to him. “You do. Keep it up and the WUN might not face total annihilation.”

I raise my eyebrows. “The truth suits you well.” Even if it is psychotic. But I’d prefer hearing the ugly truth than a pretty lie.

My dress swishes around me as we twirl. It’s not lost on me that that’s what I am right now—a pretty lie, a soldier disguised as a lady.

“You suit me well,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me. It sickens me that he seems to approve of what he sees.

My fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulder. “Sorry, but I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“There’s always time for firsts,” he responds.

I’d gut him before that ever happened. I thin my eyes as I study him. “And why would I do that? I’ve considered you my enemy all my life.”

The king smiles at me, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I don’t really care about your personal problems.” He’s clearly warmed up to telling the truth.

“I can’t imagine why you’ve been single this whole time,” I say sarcastically. The song we’re dancing to ends and a new one starts up.

His lips quirk. “Why get married when there are so many beautiful women who already want to be with me?”

I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. “Maybe you should go back to lying.”

“Hmm,” he muses, eyeing me, “the lady doesn’t mind talking about destruction and death, but throw in a little sex and she gets demure.”

My face flushes before I can help it, and the king chuckles. “My, my, have you never … ?” He gazes at me curiously. “How old are you?”

Even through my burning cheeks I give him a nasty look. “Nineteen.”

“Nineteen? And you’ve never been romantic? Did you just get out of an ugly phase?”

Despite his offensive words, I flash him my first real smile of the evening. “I was too busy killing your men to bother with love.”

Now he looks mad. It’s nice to know that the king might actually care about the death of his soldiers. “Watch your words,” he snaps.

I decide to back off. If I anger King Lazuli too much, my father and I could easily find ourselves on the wrong end of a gun.

He watches me, and I can practically see the anger flow away from his face, replaced with that predatory look I saw when I first locked eyes with him. “You were a soldier?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“But not anymore?”

“I will always be a soldier,” I say, “but right now I fight with my tongue rather than my fists.”

He gives me a slow smile. “Perhaps we can put that tongue to other uses.”

“Then perhaps I will resort to fighting with my fists.”

“I welcome the challenge.” In his eyes is a promise that he’ll make good on.

Tonight I’m sleeping with my gun.

I rip my dress off and run my tongue over my teeth as soon as I enter my bedroom. The representatives knew. They knew there would be a chance that dolled up I might catch the king’s attention. Of course. All other tactics hadn’t worked with him. Everyone else came back in a body bag. Why not give it a shot and tempt the king with flesh? It was the oldest trick in the fucking book. And it worked.

I tear the rest of the clothes off of my body and change into a pair of pajamas.

“Serenity?” my father calls from the sitting room.

“What?” I ask as I untuck my hair from my shirt. My voice is angry.

He fills up the doorway to my room and takes me in. Neither of us needs to say anything—and we wouldn’t dare anyway, the room had to be bugged. But he doesn’t need to. His anguished expression tells me how he feels about our current situation.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Why did no one tell me?” Even as I say this, I wonder if that’s what had my father tense around the general when we left. He might’ve known then what I’d only just figured out.