“How long have I been out?” I ask.

“Not long, although now the entire hospital knows you snore.”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t snore.”

The king smiles slyly. “You’re not the one who has to fall asleep next to you each evening.”

“Most people bring their loved ones gifts; instead you bring your effortless charm.”

He squeezes my hand tighter, and he leans in until his lips are barely an inch from mine. “How do you think I came to rule the world?”

“You’re an asshole,” I say, staring into his eyes, “and as an asshole, you’ve done a lot of asshole-ish things—including marrying me. That’s how you came to rule the world.”

The king touches my cheek. “Hmm. I think I like your dirty mouth better in the bedroom,” he says, and then he closes the remaining distance between our lips.

My mouth moves against his, my tongue enjoying the taste of him. It’s frightening how right he feels pressed this close to me. He has the same dark soul I do; he knows and embraces my sins, and I’m learning to accept his. I know he is dangerous to be around—dangerous to love—but my heart doesn’t seem to care.

I lift a hand and run it through his hair, my fingers rubbing a strand of it together. This thing of my nightmares is just as human as I am.

Finally, he pulls away. “I have a meeting I’ve been putting off until you awakened.” He glances at the clock hanging in the room. I can’t put it off too much longer, but …”

My hand slides from his hair to his cheek. “Go. I’ll be waiting here for you to return.”

He stands, looking reluctant to leave.

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I’ll be out of this godforsaken place,” I say. The shudder that ripples through me is very real. My skin crawls even now at the smell of disinfectants and sickness that lingers in the room. An epidemic tore through this land years ago. I’m sure many people filed through these doors only to perish.

The king bends down and kisses my forehead. “Promise me you won’t shoot anyone until I get back,” he says.

My lips waver before they tug up at the corners. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

The King

It’s not until the door to Serenity’s room clicks shut that I let the façade slip. I run a hand over my mouth and jaw, feeling my age even if I don’t look it. If my guards notice, they don’t say anything. Not if they want to continue getting their cushy paychecks.

She’s dying. The phrase repeats over and over in my head. That’s what the doctors here seem to think. They aren’t the only ones to think this, either. The royal physician had also pulled me aside, shook his head, and murmured his fears. Nothing official—it was a concern, not a diagnosis.

But several of the world’s best doctors sharing the same fears? I’d be a damn fool not to take their words seriously.

I grapple with emotions I’ve never fully experienced before. I hadn’t realized the depth of them—hadn’t realized I even could feel this way about someone.

I’d wanted Serenity’s affection, her fire, even her love—I just hadn’t realized I’d give anything back in the process.

I rub the skin over my heart. The thought of losing her after I’ve only just gotten her makes it twinge.

Marco meets me at the end of the hall. “Your Majesty,” he says in Basque, as he often does when he wants privacy, “how’s the queen doing?”

“Fine.”

Marco peers at me. We’ve known each other—trusted each other—since we were kids. The man can read me like a book.

“You talked to the doctor then?” Marco guesses.

Of course Marco would piece it together. I nod.

“And?”

I rub my eyes. “Doctor said the cancer had spread. The Sleeper reversed the damage, but …” I take a deep breath. My hands tremble slightly, “we don’t have the knowledge to stop the mutated cells from continuing to replicate.” Which means the cancer is still, at this moment, producing more malignant tissue inside Serenity.

The Sleeper can fend it off so long as it doesn’t move to her brain. But it inevitably will, and as soon as it does, it was game over. Not even the Sleeper has the ability to replicate the intricacies of the mind.

“So she’s … ?”

“Yes, I believe so,” I say, before Marco can finish his thought. We’d bought Serenity time, but not much.

“Have you considered keeping our queen in the Sleeper until a cure’s been discovered?”

I hiss in a breath. That’s months—maybe even years—away.

My gaze snaps to him. “Of course I have. That’s a last resort.”

I’ve spent all this time pouring money into destroying healthy bodies and perfecting a body that isn’t broken. Scant few of my efforts have focused on fixing sick ones.

“Hasn’t it gotten to that point?” Marco asks. “She’s dying. This could halt the damage.”

Something thick lodges itself in my throat. It comes down to the Sleeper or death, and either option still takes her away from me. It’s been hard enough waiting out her recovery during the last few weeks.

“Since when do you care?” I give Marco a sharp look.

“Since you started to.”

Just like that, his words deflate my rising anger. I rub a hand over my mouth. “She might spend years asleep in it before we have the technology to remove the cancer forever.” My voice comes out strong and smooth; I can’t let even Marco, my oldest, closest friend, see how vulnerable I feel.