The Queen of All that Dies (The Fallen World Book 1) (17 page)

The king curses as the knife cuts into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger and blood pools.

I let go of the scalpel just as the door to my room is thrown open. Marco comes in, gun drawn, a group of guards spreading out behind him.

I roll my eyes at Marco and very slowly relax my coiled muscles. Despite appearing indifferent, I’m not. I’m staring down the same gun barrel that my father had. The one that might’ve killed him.

“Your Majesty,” Marco says, taking in the scene, “is everything alright?” His eyes flick to the king’s bloody hand. “You’re bleeding.”

The king holds out the scalpel for Marco to take while studying me. “I’m fine,” he says as Marco takes the knife from him. “I just cut myself while I took the scalpel from the queen.” The king’s giving me a strange look. I get the impression he’s trying to figure me out.

“Your Majesty?” Marco says, not buying the story.

“That’s all Marco,” the king says.

“But sir, your hand …”

“Later Marco,” the king says, his eyes never straying from mine. “Leave us.”

Marco hesitates, piercing me with a look that says just what he’ll do to me if more harm befalls the king. I flash him my most nefarious grin as he backs out of the room.

“Must you terrify everyone you meet?” The king asks, grabbing some paper towels out of a dispenser to cauterize the flow of blood.

“Yes.”

The king comes back to me, and that strange look is back in his eyes. “Why did you cut me?”

My skin prickles, not because of his question, but because he’s not angry at all. He’s
curious
. It’s the wrong reaction, and it makes me worry that there indeed is something very, very wrong with the man I married.

“I wanted to see if you could bleed,” I say. My words sound cruel and calculating even to my own ears. There is also something very wrong with me.

“No, you didn’t,” the king says. “You’ve already seen me bleed.” He comes closer to my bed. “You want to know how I heal, don’t you?” he says, his eyes ever so inquisitive.

My heart thumps. “Yes,” I admit.

The king nods slowly. “You thought because I refused to tell you how I died before, I’d always refuse to tell you.”

“How you
died
before?” I go completely still. Already he’s admitted so much more than I expected.

“Perhaps ‘died’ is the wrong word.” He sits on my bed and cups the side of my face. In his eyes I see something I hoped not to. I don’t know what love is, and I doubt the king does either, but the expression he wears seems awfully near the mark.

“You really want to know?” he asks.

I nod.

He lets out a breath, then making a decision, he says, “All right. I’ll tell you the whole sordid story—it’s a long one.”

This moment strikes me as terribly anticlimactic. King Lazuli, the feared ruler of the entire globe, is about to tell me his biggest and most well kept secret. A secret men have killed and died for. A secret that used to bring goose bumps to my skin.

He presses his mouth to my ear, exhales, and breathes the first line. “But not here—”

The sound of shots ring out.

The king pulls back, and we stare at each other for a moment. Then we’re moving.

Ambushed. Someone knows we’re at this hospital, and we’re being ambushed.

On the other side of the door, I hear Marco’s voice. “Montes, Serenity,” he shouts, dropping our titles, “stay inside.” Then his footfalls move away from us.

He expects us to hide in this room like sitting ducks, but I’ve had too much military training to ever act like a civilian again. Oddly enough, Montes seems to have the same idea. He tries to push me behind him as he approaches the door. Instead I brush past him.

The king catches my hand. “Serenity—”

I turn and look at him. “I know what I’m doing.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Montes tugs me to him and kisses me.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he says when he breaks away. “Just don’t get hurt—that’s an order.”

I pull away from him. “I won’t.” I just hope I’m right.

Chapter 21

Serenity

I crack the
door open and peek out. Just as I do so, my guard, who has been stationed at the door, turns toward us.

“Get back inside,” he commands.

“You and I both know we’re outnumbered,” I say. That’s the only way a group would be ballsy enough to infiltrate the hospital. “We need to leave this place.”

The guard hesitates, and in that span of time, a series of shots punctuates the silence.

Now is the perfect time to kill the king or, at the very least, severely injure him. It’s an unpleasant realization that I don’t want him to meet his end here.

“Can you help me get the king out?” I ask.

I can feel Montes press in behind me.

The guard’s eyes flick from me to the king. “There’s a back way out of the hospital where a car should be waiting,” the guard says. “I can get him to it so long as the enemy isn’t waiting there to ambush us.”

Having been in communication with the Resistance for so long, I know how these groups work. They probably jumped on the unusual opportunity to attack the king while he was in a vulnerable position. It’s a toss up whether they know the layout of the place or not.

“I’ll go first,” I say to the guard. “You’ll have to navigate.”

“No.” Montes’s hand falls heavily on my shoulder, like he’s considering physically restraining me.

“My queen,” the guard says, “it’s my job to protect you too.”

The sound of gunfire is getting closer.

“If the king dies, the world will be leaderless when we need one the most.” I shouldn’t be worrying about the king’s death. He can’t be killed. But I’ve seen him bleed just as easily as I do and watched him take medications like any other person might. I am beginning to think the Undying King isn’t quite so resilient as he might have me believe.

“Serenity—” Montes begins.

I swivel to face him. “I’ll be fi—”

The king shoves a gun into my hand, and for a beat I stare dumbly at it. I hadn’t even realized the king was carrying.

“Don’t hesitate to use it,” he says.

My fingers curl around the weapon, and I nod. I open the door wider and pull Montes out with me.

To the king and the guard I’m sure I look resolute. That’s not how I feel. Inside I’m battling years of conditioning. Two months ago, I would’ve used this opportunity to assist those who are attacking us. Now I am protecting the very person I once hated.

“Where do we go?” I ask.

The guard points down the hall, and we begin to trot. We pass the nurses’ station, which is now abandoned.

The sound of gunfire is moving, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

At some point the guard yells, “Stop!”

I halt and turn to him and the king. The guard pulls out a key and inserts it into a door that blends into the wall.

My eyes move to Montes. He looks surprisingly calm, and I have to wonder how often he’s been in this situation. As for me, I’m breathing heavily, but I feel exhilarated.

The guard opens the door and beckons us through. I enter first and glance around. It’s a stairwell.

“The car is down two floors,” the guard says.

I begin moving, ignoring the chill that seeps into my bare feet. The gunfire has died down, which means that someone’s soldiers have been dealt with. I hope it’s theirs rather than ours, then cringe when I realize just how quickly I changed sides.

The silence that follows has my heart pounding. This isn’t a good situation, us being here in this stairwell with only a single guard to protect the king.

I descend the second flight of stairs. A narrow hallway branches off of it, leading to a door that exits to the back of the hospital. Through the narrow window a nondescript van stands out against the inky black night.

“Is that the getaway car?” I ask.

“It is,” Montes responds from behind me.

I turn to gaze at him. “I’m going out there first.”

“No, you’re not,” Montes responds.

I glance at the guard.

“I take my orders from the king,” he says.

I work my jaw but nod. I have to assume that everyone here can take care of themselves.

“Jose,” the king says to the guard, “you’ll go first, I’ll go second, the queen will go last.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Jose is already moving. I jog to keep up. Once Jose reaches the exit, my stomach clenches. If someone’s waiting for us, we’re either going to meet our maker or be in a whole lot of pain in the next few seconds.

Jose pushes open the door and sprints to the van. The king’s right behind him, and then I’m out the door moving, gun in hand, my skin prickling at the cold night air.

The shot takes us all by surprise. I see Jose and the king flinch in front of me at the same time my body jerks. I already know whose been hit before the pain sets in.

I stumble and fall forward, clutching my side. Dark liquid seeps under my hand, and then the fiery sting of the wound explodes across my skin. I grind my teeth together at the lacerating pain.

The king shouts, and Jose muscles him into the car. Above that I can hear the pound of footsteps coming closer.

“Go!” I scream at them. I want to say so much more, but I can’t seem to formulate my feelings into words. Not now when the pain is pushing every other thought to the wayside.

More shots blast my eardrums, and I jump at each one. Bullet holes dent the van frighteningly close to the wheels. Luckily the night makes the shooters’ aim less accurate.

I lift the gun in my hand and fire in the vague direction of our attackers, but it’s no use when I can’t see them.

I hear the van’s engine turn over. The king will make it. My sight blurs, but I can still see Montes struggling to leave the vehicle, and Jose’s hand pushing him down so that he’s not in the shooter’s line of sight.

The pounding footsteps get closer and I glance behind me. A man and a woman wearing black fatigues jog towards us, their guns raised.

I aim my weapon and fire off three more shots—all misses due to my trembling hand—then the gun clicks empty.

Tires screech and the van peels out. Several more shots ring out, and bullet holes puncture the side of the van. The last thing I see before rough hands grab me is Montes’s face.

It’s a mask of despair, and that, more than anything frightens me. If the king is already in mourning, then I am as good as dead.

“
We got the
queen,” the man radios to his accomplices. I guess I know which side survived the gunfire. “We’re going to load her and take her back to the warehouse.”

That can’t be good.

Rough hands lift me from where I’m crumpled against the ground. I scream at the sensation. The woman grabs my arms and the man grabs my legs.

I shriek as they lift me, and salty tears sting my eyes. My wound feels like it’s ripping me in two; warm liquid exits it and slides across my skin.

They carry me to a nearby ambulance and load me on a stretcher. I’m already starting to shiver.

“She’s losing a lot of blood. Think she’ll survive the ride?” the man asks the woman.

“Nadia will make sure she does.”

I groan from the pain and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget just how my life led me here. Given the situation, I hope the wound takes me. Chances are good that if I live through it, I’m going to die a much more painful death.

The door to the ambulance opens, and I see the nurse I talked to earlier. “So you’re the traitor?” I wheeze.

“I’d say the same thing to you.” She glances at the man hovering over me. “Get the car started. The rest of the team is leaving.”

She turns her attention back to me. “Let’s get you fixed up.” This must be Nadia.

They shot me only to stitch me back together. “This is why I hate doctors,” I whisper.

“I’m a nurse,” Nadia says, snapping on gloves. And then she touches the wound.

I scream. What she is, is a sadist.

I
blink open
my eyes, confused about where I am. I twist my body to look around, and pain lacerates me everywhere. I yelp and still. My side throbs long after I stop moving, and I quickly fill in the gaps of my memory.

The king and I were ambushed. He escaped. I didn’t. I’d been operated on and passed out at some point, either from the pain or the blood loss. And now I’m here.

I no longer side with the Resistance.
That realization leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. They’d been my allies for so long. But I’d made the choice to defend the king—my husband—when I could’ve let him die. I find I don’t regret it, either.
And now the Resistance and I are enemies.

I’m still wearing the hospital gown, and crusted blood and bits of tissue cake it. I run my hands over my ribcage and waist and feel layers of gauze encircling the bullet wound. They’ve done a good job dressing my injury.

I sit up slowly, careful not to jostle anything. The glimpse of my room isn’t promising. Cement walls and floor, a cot—which I’m resting on—a table and two chairs, a T.V. mounted near the ceiling. But my absolute favorite two details are the one-way mirror and the stainless steel toilet. If I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll have an audience.

Someone must be watching me because the knob to my room twists and the door opens. I watch it, my face carefully arranged to look disinterested.

But the mask slips when I see exactly who steps through the door.

Chapter 22

Serenity

“
Will?” I’m not
sure whether to be horrified or elated that he’s the one entering my cell. I do know that I’m shocked.

He’s wearing the same black fatigues as everyone else, and I notice that he’s carrying his weapons on him. Either he’s planning to use force, or he hopes to intimidate me.

He crosses the room in three long strides and then I’m gathered in his arms. I wince from the pain.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, standing. “What’s going on?”

“I’m now the head of the western chapter of the Resistance. And I’m here to help you kill the king.” He lets me go long enough to cup my face. I swear for a moment he considers leaning in and kissing me, and I can’t help but rear back. His hands drop, looking confused at my reaction.

“Will, you’re still a part of the Resistance? What were you thinking? If the king finds out, he’ll kill you.” My heart pounds at the thought. Then the implications of Will’s new position sink in. My eyes widen. “
You
ordered your men to shoot me?”

He cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand me. “It needed to be believable.”

“Believable for what?”

He leans in, his voice hushed. “Everyone thinks you’re with the king except for me.”

I give him a disbelieving look. “Will, I
am
with the king.” That was why the representatives made me marry Montes—to glue together two warring hemispheres.

Will stares at me long and hard, like I might really be the traitor everyone else claims I am.

Surprise morphs to anger. I sacrificed so much for the good of my friends and my nation, and Will still wants to play soldier, to gamble with lives like this is a game.

“Does your father know of your actions?” I ask.

“Leave him out of this.”

“He doesn’t,” I state.

Will shakes his head. “That’s not the point, and that’s not why we dragged you here.” He grips my upper arms. “The king can be killed,” he says, shaking me slightly.

His words catch my attention, temporarily distracting me from my current situation.

“How?” I ask.

Will releases me. “He hasn’t told you?” He actually sounds surprised.

I hesitate. “The king was going to tell me once I recovered,” I finally say.

Will’s head tilted. “Is it true then? Do you have cancer?”

“If I answer your question, will you tell me how you know the king can be killed?”

He gives me a sharp nod, and I exhale, glancing down at my soiled gown. “It’s true,” I say quietly. “All that radiation … I have stomach cancer.”

As I speak, Will’s brows draw together, and in the silence that follows, he glances away. One might think that he was overcome with emotion, but I know what he’s really thinking—it’s the same thing that plagued my thoughts for a while. He’s wondering why the hell the king is trying to save my life.

“Did they get the cancer?” Will asks.

I fold my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t know. I was shot and kidnapped before I heard the prognosis.” Voicing this only throws the absurdity of the whole situation in sharp relief: Will allowed Resistance members to shoot me even though he knew I might be sick. Right now his heartlessness is giving the king a run for his money.

Will grunts, and that’s the closest he’ll come to saying,
point taken
.

“I shared my news,” I say. “Your turn.”

“One of our members found out that the king takes a certain prescription,” Will begins.

My mouth dries, and my fingers grip the skin of my arms tightly.

“We were able to get ahold of a sample of it and study what it does,” Will continues.

I wait with bated breath.

“The thing’s the fucking fountain of youth in a pill. Test subjects reported that their sunspots vanished, their wrinkles disappeared, and their hair regenerated—and that’s only what they noticed. The truth is that daily doses of this drug lead to denser bones, stronger muscles, better eyesight—you name it.”

I swallow. A pill that could effectively make you immortal. And I was now taking it. “Are there any side effects?” I ask.

“Don’t know. However, this is the kicker: we found medical journals on this drug from almost thirty years ago.”

I purse my lips. That was more than a little odd.

“Want to know who funded the bulk of the research?” Will asks.

I raise my eyebrows and nod for him to continue.

Will smiles grimly. “Your husband, Montes Lazuli.”

I’
m reeling from
this revelation, though I shouldn’t be too surprised, given the king’s nature. Sometime in the shadowy bowels of history, Montes had come across this wonder pill. He could’ve been taking it that entire time—no, not could’ve, he
must’ve
.

I marvel at the thought that his real age might be close to sixty. Montes always struck me as ageless—not twenty, not sixty, not a hundred. There simply wasn’t a number I could ascribe to him. I find that even now, even knowing he’s as old as he is, my opinion of him doesn’t change.

I’m still pondering this discovery when Will turns my chin to face him. “The king is not immortal.” He enunciates each word.

“If he’s mortal,” I say, playing devil’s advocate, “then how do you explain him surviving getting shot? Or the explosion?”

Will shakes his head. “Another one of his medical discoveries—that must be at least part of the reason why he took over the hospitals first.”

I admit, it makes sense, especially after being healed by the Sleeper. I’ve seen firsthand what the king’s medical devices can accomplish. And it makes more sense than the king actually being immortal.

Strange, I preferred him an unnatural thing. It made who he was and what we had more okay in my mind.

“You can find out the rest.” Will still holds my chin in his hand, and his eyes move to my lips. “Find out what makes the king supposedly indestructible and kill him.”

“No.”

“What?” Wills looks genuinely surprised.

“What makes you think I’m willing to work with you and the Resistance?”

He drops his grip on my jaw. “Why wouldn’t you? Serenity, I’m trying to make things right.”

I laugh at that. “This is you making things right?
Wow
.”

He crowds me. “I’m not giving you a choice. We can torture you until you agree to this, if you want to be difficult. We also have enough damning material to blackmail you into following through should you get cold feet.”

His words are a slap in the face, and at first I think he’s joking, being hotheaded and speaking before he’s thought through his words. But one glance at his eyes tells me that he’s serious.

“You’d do that?” I ask, incredulous. “Blackmail me? Torture me? All just to get what you want?”

Will’s jaw clenches.

God, he
would
. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; this is the role he’s trained for. To be a general, one has to make hard choices, to set one’s feelings aside for the good of the people. Still, I can’t wrap my mind around this side of him. This is not the Will I remember.

“What happened to you?” I ask, peering at him.

“What happened to me? What happened to
you
?” he retorts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with the king.”

I fist my hands. “Fuck you, Will,” I whisper. “You don’t have to lie with your parents’ killer every night. You don’t have to live with the guilt and disgust that comes with trying to make that situation work, because as queen you have the opportunity to benefit the world.”

There’s a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but I’m not done.

“I’ve given
every
ounce of myself,” I say. “How dare you question my motives.”

Will reaches up and touches a lock of hair. “I love you Serenity, you know that,” he says. “But this is larger than us—we’re talking about millions of lives here. Millions of lives that we can save.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do right now?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not good enough.”

I lift my chin. “What happens if the king dies? Who leads the world then?”

“You would, Serenity, along with whoever you appointed.”

My breath catches. The Resistance’s plans are all so painfully simple. If I came into power, I’d push the agenda I’d been raised with, and I’d likely employ those trusted few people I’d worked and fought alongside. Will would be one of them. Hell, he and the Resistance might’ve taken this a step further and assumed Will would replace the king.

A little piece of me dies; it’s been dying since the moment I realized my friend allowed me to get shot.

I’m surrounded by bad men.

“You are blinded by power, Will.” When had this happened, and how had I never noticed this metamorphosis?

Will raises his eyebrows and barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You think
I
am blinded by power?” He leans in, his lip curling. From his expression, I can see that my lack of cooperation has fermented into some more poisonous emotion. “The king has you under his thumb, just where he wants you. Who knew all it took was a little romance and a little dick?”

In one smooth motion I cock my fist back and slam it into his face. I can feel the agonizing movement across my entire body, and I bite the inside of my cheek to smother my cry. Still, hitting him is incredibly satisfying.

Will reels back, holding his nose, but I know it’s not broken. I’m too weak at the moment to put much force behind the punch.

A moment later the door to my cell opens up, and a Resistance soldier steps a foot into the room. Will waves him away. “I’m fine,” he says.

The man’s eyes dart between us, but he steps back and closes the door, leaving us alone once more.

I step in close to him. “You and the rest of the WUN traded me for peace,” I say, my voice rising. “If the king brainwashed me, that is your fault. If I’m falling for the king, it’s only because you forced me to marry him.” I’m shaking I’m so angry. “You don’t have the right to use me anymore.
You already gave me away.
”

Will reels back, and I see genuine emotion in his eyes. Remorse. Regret.

I square my jaw. “I won’t do what you ask,” I say, my body still burning with fury. “You will have to torture me.”

“Serenity.” Will’s voice drops low. “Please.”

“Screw you, asshole. No.”

Will exhales. “Fine.” He looks over his shoulder at the one-way mirror beyond. “Omar, can we run that clip of the queen?”

A few seconds later the screen in the interrogation room winks on. It glows white for a moment, and then footage appears. I suck in a breath at the sight.

I watch myself step into the doorway of a jet. The short dress I wear is in tatters, and it flaps in the breeze. But it’s not what flares my nostrils as I watch myself descend the stairs to the ground. Maroon blood is caked all over my body, and strange dark flecks of what must have once been flesh are splattered across me. I want to puke at the sight of myself.

“That’s what will hit the Internet,” Will says. “The king won’t be able to sweep that under the rug—and if he does, we’ll start posting the recordings and emails from the Resistance meetings that incriminate you until he is forced to do something about it. He will kill you. And he’ll enjoy it. Still want to refuse my offer?”

I close my eyes and swallow. “I never thought you’d be the one to betray me, Will,” I say.

“That’s not an answer.”

I open my eyes. “If you want to sentence me to death, so be it. You already received my answer.”

Will’s nostrils flare. He strides to the table, grasps a chair, and flings it at the one-way mirror. “Goddamnit Serenity, stop being an idiot!”

I watch him. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

His chest heaves. “You will be imprisoned, tortured, killed if you don’t agree to do this. Do you care so little for your life?”

“I live with the devil. I’ve already died and gone to hell. So no, I don’t care.” The truth is, I don’t want to die, and torture scares the shit out of me. But I’ve already bent to the will of too many men. I’m done compromising.

Will stands motionless. I can tell he doesn’t know what to do. He probably assumed that I’d willingly agree to his plan, and that if I didn’t, pain would sway me. He hadn’t counted on me folding out altogether.

An alarm in the corner of the room sounds, and then someone radios Will. “The king’s men have found us. The warehouse has been infiltrated.”

For a split second, Will’s distracted. This is my chance to escape. I don’t want to be the Resistance’s pawn anymore than I’d wanted to be the WUN’s or the king’s. I lunge at him, my hand reaching for his weapon.

In one smooth move I flick open his holster and pull the gun out. I see a flash of betrayal in Will’s eyes when I point the weapon at him, but I feel no remorse.

“So what, you’re going to shoot me?” he asks.

“I’m seriously considering it, you fucker.” My words burn like acid.

Will tilts his head. “You really are a traitor queen.”

I pull my arm back and slam the gun into his temple. He crumples to the ground in front of me, unmoving.

I crouch next to him and avoid looking at his face. It’s hard to reconcile this discontent man with the strong, kind friend I grew up alongside. Of all the ways I thought war would affect me, this is one I hadn’t predicted. I never imagined that I could lose one of my closest companions.

Beneath my fingers I can feel Will’s pulse. It’s a little sluggish, but he’ll be fine. For now.

Shots ring out somewhere around me, and I can’t help feeling like a sitting duck in this room, even though the king’s men have come for me.
They’ve come for me.

I search Will’s pockets for a key or a card—something that will get me out of this room. But he has nothing on him, and judging by the look of the door handle, there isn’t a keyhole nor is there a keypad. It seems the interrogation room has been designed to only unlock from the outside. Just my luck.

Five minutes later the door bursts open. I already have Will’s gun trained on the door, ready to blow away anyone who considers using me as their ticket out of the warehouse. But instead of a Resistance soldier, one of the king’s men surges into the room.