“Last I checked, I’m the king, not you.”

I flush the toilet and rise to my feet. I’m more fatigued than I should be. I fear that just when I decided I had the will to live, my body decided it didn’t.

Montes presses a button built into the wall of the bathroom. “Marco, get me a doctor—”

“No.” My voice is sharper than I intend it. “Please,” I add, leaning against the counter, “the alcohol didn’t sit well. That’s all.”

“Your Majesty?” Marco’s static-y voice blares into the room. Just the sound of it makes my trigger finger itch.

The king scrutinizes me for a long time before he turns back to the intercom. “Scratch that, Marco. Just bring some broth, crackers, and something with electrolytes in it. Oh, and I believe it’s time to put the queen on my pills.”

My ears perk up at this.

“Consider it done,” Marco says, and the line clicks off.

“Pills?” I inquire. “Trying to poison me?” I fish.

Montes’s gaze lands meaningfully on the toilet. “Seems like you’re doing a perfectly good job of that on your own.”

“Then what are they for?”

“Your long-term health,” he says cryptically, and that’s the last he’ll say on the subject.

Even on the king’s honeymoon he has to work; it’s one of the drawbacks of being the leader of the entire globe.

“I’m coming with you,” I say, as he buttons his cufflinks.

The king assesses me. “You’re fatigued. You should spend the day resting. One of the servants can give you a massage if you’d like.”

I yank a dress from a hanger in our closet. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Nor was I.”

Today I’ll discover what happens when two stubborn people reach an impasse.

“You’re going to have to physically stop me from leaving, then.” I’ve been cooped up for too long. I need to get back to the world of the living.

“Don’t tempt me. I can get creative.” The look Montes is giving me makes me flush. I wouldn’t mind his methods one bit, and I’ve made peace with this disturbing realization.

His words, however, don’t stop me from getting dressed. When he’s about to leave, I block his exit. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

I reach up and trickle my fingers over his jaw. I’ve learned that the king enjoys any casual affection I give him—likely because I have so little to offer. “Find something for me to do, Montes. Surely you have more than enough work to keep the both of us occupied.”

I’m more than ready to begin healing the damaged lands of the world. I need to prove to myself and to my people that I haven’t turned my back on my past.

He scrutinizes me, then sighs. He must have figured out what I already know: if he leaves me alone, I’m going to get myself in more trouble than if he simply drags me along.

“Aw,” I give him a fake pout, “is someone having buyer’s remorse?” The king’s finally realizing just what a handful I can be.

He catches my jaw. “You believe you can push me without repercussions. You can’t, and you will be repaying me for this later.”

The king should know by now that threats don’t scare me. I hope he can see in my eyes that I don’t give a flying fuck about his words.

When I don’t back down, Montes drops his hold so that he can reach around me and open the door.

I turn to go, but he catches my wrist, reeling me back in. “Serenity?” he says, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m glad you’re not frightened by my words, but you should be.”

Five hours later, I’m sitting in a conference room, trying to keep my lunch down. The king flashes me a concerned glance, like he has been all day. Perhaps part of the reason he’s come to rule the world is because he misses nothing.

I finger the document in front of me and focus on evening my breaths. It helps with the nausea. If I concentrate long enough, I can ride this out. I shouldn’t have let myself go following my father’s death. My body’s paying for it now and making it painfully obvious that I’m not okay.

“Reports suggest the Resistance is growing in unprecedented numbers,” one of the king’s political advisors says. “They’ve raided the Toulouse research facility and bombed the Department of Defense in Berlin. There have also been threats to air footage of the queen.”

I suck in air too quickly and choke on my own saliva. I begin to cough, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop.

Next to me Montes stands. “Bringing you along was a bad idea.” He’s been waiting for an excuse to say this. “You should go back to the room and rest.”

I wave him off but continue to cough. My lungs seem to rattle with the effort, and my whole body shakes. Finally I manage to clear my throat. As I draw my fist away from my mouth, I notice the bright red speckles.

Blood.

I drop my hand before the king can see what I have. “I think I will.”

The king’s brow crinkles. If anything, my easy agreement only worries him more.

I stand to leave, hiding my hand in the folds of my dress. The king’s eyes dart to the action, then up to me. He doesn’t say anything, instead waving his royal guards over. “Escort the queen back to our rooms,” he commands.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he says to me. “If you need anything, you only need to ask the staff.”