The Queen of All that Dies
Page 23
His cool breath fans across my face. “Just remember tomorrow that you started this,” he says quietly.
I don’t know what to make of his words, but then I don’t need to. His lips are on mine, and they move softly, sweetly against my mouth. I kiss him back, parting my lips and running my tongue over his.
The murmurs around us quiet, and in the silence that follows I can hear the frantic shuffling of camera crews that want to capture what could be a pivotal moment in the negotiations.
But even that is background noise compared to being completely and totally enveloped by the king. His fingertips touch my cheeks with the lightest of pressure. There’s a kindness to the touch, and I have the oddest urge to weep that someone can be this gentle to another human being. That it’s the king who caresses me like this … I can’t rectify my conflicted emotions.
One of King Lazuli’s hands moves to the small of my back, holding me close, his thumb stroking the bare skin there. I move my own hand so that it cups his jaw, and I’m shocked by its roughness. Shocked perhaps because he feels more like a man than a nightmare.
Our poolside evening together bubbles to the surface of my thoughts. He was a different person then, and right now, while his lips move against mine, he’s that same person. The thought makes me forget that I’m in the arms of the enemy, and that my country might consider me a traitor for my current actions—actions I make on its behalf.
The kiss ends, and the king draws away slowly, his eyes lingering on my lips. Desire and a trace of something else flare up in his eyes.
Around us the room is silent. I can feel half a dozen cameras focused on me and the king. I’m sure several are capturing my father’s expression as well, but I’m too busy staring down Montes to care much about that.
Whatever this is, it’s no deception on the king’s part. It’s something far, far worse.
Someone whistles on the other side of the room, and then I hear the tinkling of silverware on glass. More join in; some people even tap the side of their glasses with a knife.
I look from them to the king, my brow furrowed.
“They want us to kiss again.”
I feel my cheeks heat. My courage is all used up. King Lazuli dips down and brushes his lips against mine. My mouth responds, moving languidly over his, even though the entire situation freaks me out. At least we’ve definitely given the world a show.
This time when the king pulls away, his lips skim over my cheek to my ear. “You’re cute when you blush.”
My nostrils flare in annoyance, but I compose my face before anyone takes notice. The king’s hands linger, one in particular gets comfortable around my waist.
His eyes drop to my gown. “You look gorgeous—the dress fits you perfectly.”
The mention of this hateful gown reminds me that the king is more than just silky words and soft caresses. He’s the enemy.
I give him a tight smile since I can’t be openly rude to him while so much attention is on us.
King Lazuli seems to understand this, and a sly grin spreads across his face. “Like the color?”
“Uh huh.” I clench my jaw so much it hurts.
The people who cluster around the king have focused their attention on me, and I know my pleasant exterior is cracking. I entwine my fingers around the king’s, and pry his hand from my waist.
“Mind if I steal the king for a moment?” I ask the crowd.
The group shakes their heads and shrugs. “Thanks—I promise I’ll only be a moment.” I drag the king away from the crowd, not that he seems to mind it in the least. The camera crews start to follow us, so I turn and give them all a death glare. It’s enough for them to keep their distance. For now. I know I’ve caused too much of a scene for them to stay away long.
Once I get the king a safe distance away from the crowd, I drop the act. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh? And what exactly is it that you’ll do?” the king asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Whatever it is you want with me.”
I can see the king’s breath catch. He’s getting exactly what he wants, just like he promised me he would.
“But—” I say, “I have a condition.”
The king raises his eyebrows and waits for me to continue.
“You need to compromise with the WUN—don’t cripple their economy, don’t withhold needed funds. Give my homeland enough benefits to get them back on their feet.”
“You do realize that’s incredibly vague,” the king says. What he doesn’t say is that in his world, ambiguity is an exploitable weakness.
I touch his arm; I’m going to have to get used to his touch if I go through with this. He glances down at where my hand rests, then back to my face. His eyes are vulnerable.
“I’m asking you to be honorable,” I say. I give him a long look, and I see some of his humanity seep into those bright eyes. “Please, you don’t need to blackmail me or the western hemisphere to get what you want. I’m coming to you freely.”
The king cups my chin, and I see real tenderness there. “I’ll come up with a final agreement, but your father will have to approve of it for us to have a deal.”
A deal. That’s what this is. I nod.
He bows his head and steals a kiss from me. “Good. Then I look forward to a long and prosperous future for all parties involved.”
I did it. I just sacrificed myself for my nation.
Chapter 9
Serenity
Two years ago I became my father’s apprentice.
He hadn’t always been our land’s only emissary. I hear we used to have many. Men and women appointed by the government to engage in diplomacy with foreign nations.
When the Western United Nations was formed, this branch of the government was refashioned. A single position—that of WUN emissary—was created. It proved to be a fatal one. Half a dozen men and women died before my father, who’d once served as the Secretary of State, had been elected into the role.
He managed to hold onto the position and his life, mostly because he hadn’t set foot onto the Eastern Hemisphere.
There should’ve been another round of elections since my father took the title of emissary. He should’ve abdicated the role to another official, along with all the other representatives that lived in the bunker. But once the western hemisphere went dark, our electoral system disintegrated almost overnight. In it’s absence we had to revert to an archaic system of power: bequeathing titles from parent to child. And now my father was passing the position onto me.
I don’t know what to make of his words, but then I don’t need to. His lips are on mine, and they move softly, sweetly against my mouth. I kiss him back, parting my lips and running my tongue over his.
The murmurs around us quiet, and in the silence that follows I can hear the frantic shuffling of camera crews that want to capture what could be a pivotal moment in the negotiations.
But even that is background noise compared to being completely and totally enveloped by the king. His fingertips touch my cheeks with the lightest of pressure. There’s a kindness to the touch, and I have the oddest urge to weep that someone can be this gentle to another human being. That it’s the king who caresses me like this … I can’t rectify my conflicted emotions.
One of King Lazuli’s hands moves to the small of my back, holding me close, his thumb stroking the bare skin there. I move my own hand so that it cups his jaw, and I’m shocked by its roughness. Shocked perhaps because he feels more like a man than a nightmare.
Our poolside evening together bubbles to the surface of my thoughts. He was a different person then, and right now, while his lips move against mine, he’s that same person. The thought makes me forget that I’m in the arms of the enemy, and that my country might consider me a traitor for my current actions—actions I make on its behalf.
The kiss ends, and the king draws away slowly, his eyes lingering on my lips. Desire and a trace of something else flare up in his eyes.
Around us the room is silent. I can feel half a dozen cameras focused on me and the king. I’m sure several are capturing my father’s expression as well, but I’m too busy staring down Montes to care much about that.
Whatever this is, it’s no deception on the king’s part. It’s something far, far worse.
Someone whistles on the other side of the room, and then I hear the tinkling of silverware on glass. More join in; some people even tap the side of their glasses with a knife.
I look from them to the king, my brow furrowed.
“They want us to kiss again.”
I feel my cheeks heat. My courage is all used up. King Lazuli dips down and brushes his lips against mine. My mouth responds, moving languidly over his, even though the entire situation freaks me out. At least we’ve definitely given the world a show.
This time when the king pulls away, his lips skim over my cheek to my ear. “You’re cute when you blush.”
My nostrils flare in annoyance, but I compose my face before anyone takes notice. The king’s hands linger, one in particular gets comfortable around my waist.
His eyes drop to my gown. “You look gorgeous—the dress fits you perfectly.”
The mention of this hateful gown reminds me that the king is more than just silky words and soft caresses. He’s the enemy.
I give him a tight smile since I can’t be openly rude to him while so much attention is on us.
King Lazuli seems to understand this, and a sly grin spreads across his face. “Like the color?”
“Uh huh.” I clench my jaw so much it hurts.
The people who cluster around the king have focused their attention on me, and I know my pleasant exterior is cracking. I entwine my fingers around the king’s, and pry his hand from my waist.
“Mind if I steal the king for a moment?” I ask the crowd.
The group shakes their heads and shrugs. “Thanks—I promise I’ll only be a moment.” I drag the king away from the crowd, not that he seems to mind it in the least. The camera crews start to follow us, so I turn and give them all a death glare. It’s enough for them to keep their distance. For now. I know I’ve caused too much of a scene for them to stay away long.
Once I get the king a safe distance away from the crowd, I drop the act. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh? And what exactly is it that you’ll do?” the king asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Whatever it is you want with me.”
I can see the king’s breath catch. He’s getting exactly what he wants, just like he promised me he would.
“But—” I say, “I have a condition.”
The king raises his eyebrows and waits for me to continue.
“You need to compromise with the WUN—don’t cripple their economy, don’t withhold needed funds. Give my homeland enough benefits to get them back on their feet.”
“You do realize that’s incredibly vague,” the king says. What he doesn’t say is that in his world, ambiguity is an exploitable weakness.
I touch his arm; I’m going to have to get used to his touch if I go through with this. He glances down at where my hand rests, then back to my face. His eyes are vulnerable.
“I’m asking you to be honorable,” I say. I give him a long look, and I see some of his humanity seep into those bright eyes. “Please, you don’t need to blackmail me or the western hemisphere to get what you want. I’m coming to you freely.”
The king cups my chin, and I see real tenderness there. “I’ll come up with a final agreement, but your father will have to approve of it for us to have a deal.”
A deal. That’s what this is. I nod.
He bows his head and steals a kiss from me. “Good. Then I look forward to a long and prosperous future for all parties involved.”
I did it. I just sacrificed myself for my nation.
Chapter 9
Serenity
Two years ago I became my father’s apprentice.
He hadn’t always been our land’s only emissary. I hear we used to have many. Men and women appointed by the government to engage in diplomacy with foreign nations.
When the Western United Nations was formed, this branch of the government was refashioned. A single position—that of WUN emissary—was created. It proved to be a fatal one. Half a dozen men and women died before my father, who’d once served as the Secretary of State, had been elected into the role.
He managed to hold onto the position and his life, mostly because he hadn’t set foot onto the Eastern Hemisphere.
There should’ve been another round of elections since my father took the title of emissary. He should’ve abdicated the role to another official, along with all the other representatives that lived in the bunker. But once the western hemisphere went dark, our electoral system disintegrated almost overnight. In it’s absence we had to revert to an archaic system of power: bequeathing titles from parent to child. And now my father was passing the position onto me.
