The Queen of All that Dies (The Fallen World Book 1) (18 page)

We make eye contact and I can see the relief soften the expression on his face and loosen his taut muscles. I drop the gun in my hand and kick it away.

The guard grabs a radio from his belt and calls in. “The queen is alive and secure. Repeat, the queen is alive and secure.”

Will moans on the floor at my feet, and the guard’s eyes snap to him. The guard glances down at my bloodied hospital gown and sucks in a breath. He cocks his gun and points it at Will.

“It wasn’t him,” I say. “This wound was from when I was shot outside the hospital.”

The guard radios in a second time. “The queen is injured. Repeat, the queen is injured. Requesting a stretcher.”

“I am
not
leaving this building on a stretcher,” I growl out.

Over my dead body would that happen.

I
glare up
at the hallway’s florescent bulbs as I’m wheeled out. Around me several guards push the gurney, and I swear they’re suppressing smiles. Pricks.

Somewhere ahead of me, one of the king’s soldiers leads a handcuffed Will. But most of them surround me.

From the brief glimpses I get as I’m rolled out, I see bodies littering the floor, most lying in pools of their own blood. One of them is Nadia, the nurse that stitched up my gunshot wound, her eyes glazed and empty. The Resistance members here have been massacred.

My throat works. I shouldn’t feel anything for them—not after they were so willing to hurt me. But these were once people I worked with. People whose courage I admired. Sorrow wells within me. Wrong is right, and right is wrong.

Somewhere ahead of me doors open, and early morning light pours in. I squint at the sunlight shining down on me.

Above me several helicopters circle the warehouse. I can’t see my surroundings well, but by the looks of it, the king has brought most of his army here.

I hear a cheer rise through the air, but I can’t tell who’s watching.

Suddenly a head eclipses the light, and I make out the dark eyes of the king. My stretcher stops as the guards halt. The king cups my face and bends over me.

I feel a drop of water against my cheek. A tear—the king is crying. Over me.

He presses his lips to mine, and I feel the brush of his wet eyelashes against me. I’ve never seen the king cry—no footage has ever captured this side of him.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he says, his voice choked.

My heart thumps painfully in my chest. It should never have been this way. My comrades turning on me, my enemies saving me. But worst of all, I should never have felt anything other than hatred for this man, the king. Definitely not this, this warmth that thaws my soul.

I stare into the king’s eyes. I am Isolde, I am Juliet, I am Guinevere.

I am every one of those idiots because I’ve fallen for the king.

Chapter 23

The King

I
will murder
every last one of them. I will rip every last survivor from limb to limb, I will torture them for days for what they did to Serenity. For what they tried to do to me.

I can feel small pricks of pain behind my eyes, but I hold back my tears. She’s safe now.

I thread my hands behind my head and pace outside Serenity’s hospital room, where she’s been resting since she returned.

Henry, the lead investigator of my secret service unit, approaches me. “Your Majesty, the prisoner who was found with Serenity in the interrogation room—we have reason to believe that he’s the leader of the western division of the Resistance.”

This is news. What is the leader of the western division doing here? And why was he the one in Serenity’s room?

Cold dread settles in my stomach, but I keep my resolve steely.

“We’re trying to figure that out at the moment.” Henry’s lips thin. “That’s not all, Your Majesty.”

I wait for him to go on.

“The prisoner is William Kline, the son of the former general of the WUN, Chris Kline.”

H
e knew her
. He knew her. He knew her.

And he betrayed her. He betrayed me. Hell, he probably betrayed his father.

There’s nothing I hate worse than a traitor.

I watch him through the one-way mirrors as he’s being tortured for information. Funny how quickly he’s gone from being interrogator to interrogated.

Usually I stay far away from these sessions. They’re a little too gruesome for my taste. But while Serenity is still sleeping off her latest surgery to undo the mediocre medical attention her bullet wound received, I’m savoring justice in its most savage form.

“Why did you kidnap Queen Serenity Lazuli?” the interrogator asks.

The general’s son is silent.

“Still not going to talk?” the interrogator asks.

When William, the general’s son, doesn’t reply, the interrogator grabs the metal pliers and moves it over to an untouched finger. The table he sits in front of is already slick with blood.

“Stop!” William shrieks as another fingernail goes. This isn’t even the worst part yet.

“Do you want to talk?” the interrogator asks calmly. Civilly.

William is sobbing, and sweat drips down his pale face.

“Perhaps I should move to chopping off fingers … or other things,” the interrogator says.

The Resistance leader’s jaw clenches.

“No? Then perhaps we’ll just have to drag your father into it.”

William’s face pales further. “I—I’ll talk.” I can hear the defeat in his voice.

What the boy doesn’t know is that my men are already on their way to execute his father. It’s long overdue.

Serenity

When I wake
up, my golden hair fanned out around me, I’m alone in the hospital room. The monitors beep and whirr.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed, the pads of my feet touching the cool linoleum. Not surprisingly, I feel like I’ve been rolled over by a tank. It doesn’t matter. I can’t take it in here. Not one second more. I’ve been either injured or recovering for the last few weeks in the hospital; I’m done being sick.

I rip out the IV drip taped to my wrist, only wincing slightly when I feel the momentary pain. A monitor next to me goes off.

Out of curiosity I lift up my hospital gown to look at my wound. Unlike the last time I was here, my body shows evidence of surgery. Clean bandages wrap around my torso. Relief floods me at the sight of it; it means that I haven’t lost days or weeks.

I pull the cloth gown back down and exit my room.

In the hallway a swarm of guards keep watch outside my door. I guess the king didn’t want to chance an attack again. As soon as they see me leaving, they try to coerce me back into the room.

“My queen, you need to—”

“The first person who tells me to rest will find themselves castrated,” I say, piercing each guard with a glare.

The guards go silent, and I smile. “I want to see the king,” I say.

“But—”

I narrow my eyes on the guard who spoke and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. “Take me to him—that’s an order.”

I
finger my
spare clothes as I follow the guards through the secret service building. My arms shake; they’ve been doing that since I was told the king was extracting information from Will.

The guards glance nervously at one another. “You have my word you will not get in trouble for this,” I promise.

I can tell which interrogation room Montes is in by the cluster of officials standing around it.

A couple of them see me and try to cut me off. “My queen, you can’t—”

“I am fucking tired of hearing I can’t do things today,” I say. “Let me through or I will force my way through.”

One tries to grab me. My fist snaps out, but he blocks it with his forearm. Another closes in, pressing a finger to his ear and speaking in low tones. I know what this is—containment.

“
Montes
!” I shriek.

Hands are on me, and the guards that led me here are nowhere to be seen. Pansies.

“Let me
go
,” I snap, yanking at my arms. They won’t release me. My anger spikes; there is nothing so infuriating as being physically helpless against another human being.

The door opens and Montes walks out. “What is going on?” The moment he processes that I’m being detained against my will, his face hardens. “Let the queen go.” His voice is steel.

Hands release me, and I glare at the guards.

“Serenity, what are you doing out of bed?”

“I want to see Will.”

The king’s jaw works. “You can’t.”

There’s that command again. That I can’t. And now I’ve heard it one time too many.

I push past the king and dart for the door he’s come out of. I’ve barely managed to open the door when arms wrap around my midsection and pry me away. But not before I catch a glimpse of the viewing room, and beyond it, the interrogation.

All I see is crimson blood and all I hear are Will’s screams. The outer walls must be thick to silence such agonized cries. The king’s wrath is just as frightening as I’d always feared.

My mouth parts as I’m dragged away. “Oh God.” My words croak out. “Stop,” I whisper.

“Serenity—” The king’s voice comes from behind me. He’s the one restraining me.

“
Stop!
” I scream.

The king’s hand rubs my skin, as if I am a child needing soothing from a nightmare. “We need information from him,” he says.

“I don’t care.” I’m shaking all over. I’ve seen and done many horrifying things, but it’s this one that undoes me. “This needs to stop.” I’m no longer just talking about Will’s interrogation. I’m talking about war—about being a woman raised on a diet of pain and punishment. Where evil is avenged with more evil. It will never be enough to remedy the world.

The king feels me trembling beneath his hands. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Montes, just please, stop torturing him.” A tear leaks out. It’s Will, after all. I might hate what he’s become, but torture … I don’t wish that on my worst enemy.

The king sighs. “If we don’t get information out of him, then your life might still be in danger. I can’t allow that.”

“Montes,” I say, my hands clutching his arms. “
Please.
”

That vein near his temple throbs, and I’m sure he’s going to say no.

His hold on me drops. “Get the queen out of here.” The king eyes each one of his soldiers. “And I don’t care what threats the queen made to get here, the next time you defy my direct orders—it will be your head.”

He raises an eyebrow at me—the warning is for me as well—then he turns on his heel and re-enters the interrogation room.

“
Montes
!” I yell after him. The door clicks shut; the bastard ignored me.

I stare at the room as I’m dragged away. My world is completely falling apart.

The walls of this place might be thick, but they don’t muffle everything. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear a bang. My body jumps at the sound, and a tear leaks out.

Gone. Will is gone.

The King

I’m getting too
soft.
That sentiment is running on repeat as my men drag the Resistance leader’s body out of the interrogation room.

I’ve been the master of strategy and power plays since the beginning of my career. I don’t compromise, ever. Yet here I am, watching the cleanup crew wipe up the boy’s spilled blood. I did as Serenity asked—I put the traitor out of his misery. Thanks to listening to my bloody fucking heart instead of my brain, I threw away the opportunity to learn the locations of dozens of Resistance cells.

Deep in my gut, unease pools. Killing him was a mistake, one I can’t correct. And it’s one I might repeat if I become too compassionate. I rub my mouth.

“Your Majesty,” Henry, the lead investigator, enters the room.

“Hmm?” I glance up at him.

“There’s something you need to see, and it concerns the queen.”

“
The Resistance recorded
the queen’s interrogation,” Henry explains as he leads me to one of the station’s conference rooms.

That horrible rage that I’ve kept in check since we retrieved Serenity now rears its ugly head once more. That anyone would dare harm my wife. No one crosses me and gets away with it.

“Show me the footage.” I know Henry doesn’t miss the flinty edge to my voice.

Henry grabs a remote control sitting on the conference table and points it at the large screen that dominates one of the walls.

A grainy black and white image of a cinderblock cell flickers on. I lean my knuckles heavily on the desk, and I lean forward. My blood pressure rises as several Resistance members drag an unconscious Serenity into the room and dump her onto a cot.

Henry’s time lapsed the footage so that it fast forwards several hours. During all that time, my wife’s form barely moves. The sight of her looking so fragile does something to me.

The tape slows; several seconds later, Serenity’s eyes open. After taking in the room, she sits up. I only have to wait a minute more before the door to her cell opens and William Kline joins her.

The sound is even grainer than the video, but I can still make out the words. I grit my teeth as William cups my wife’s face. He touches her like he has a right to. Now I doubly regret my decision to end his life.

As I watch and listen to the entire interrogation—which really isn’t an interrogation at all—my breathing slows. The Resistance knows so much more about me than I believed. I thought this might be the most worrisome aspect of it, until William threatens my queen.

“She’s associated with the Resistance,” Henry says.

“I can damn well see that,” I snap.

I glare at the man on the screen. I should’ve gotten more information out of this piece of shit. They’ve set their sights on the throne, and they plan on using my wife to usurp me. This needs to be suppressed stat.

I’m a cold-blooded bastard. I know this, the world knows this, and most of all, the queen knows this. Yet as I watch her, my heart pounds madly. She’s vicious and frank, and she’s not giving into their demands.

If I didn’t understand her, I might’ve worried that she was some sort of double agent. But Serenity doesn’t hide her violence and anger. No, she puts the worst parts of herself out on display and hides the best aspects of herself. Even that she’s not so good at because she’s risking torture and death by defending me.

She’s the most fearless person I know.

My opinion of her only increases when she slugs Will, and again when she pulls his own gun on him.

It doesn’t take a genius to know I married up.