The Queen of All that Lives
Page 69
I glare at him. I can’t help it. I want to gut him and savor his screams. The killer in me begins to hunger.
Because Montes—
I cut the thought off.
The game plan, I remind myself.
“Your Majesty,” the man murmurs, dipping his head.
I’m surprised by the show of reverence.
He closes the door behind him and approaches me.
“You treat all your prisoners this nicely?” I ask, jingling my cuffs as I speak.
“No.” He pulls a chair up to the bed. “Just queens, I’m afraid. I’m Chief Officer Collins, head of the Western United Nation’s Security Department.”
“And you’re here to interrogate me?”
Collins gives me a wan smile. “I’m here to talk with you.
“Pretty words,” I say.
He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “You’ve done this before,” he states, settling himself in.
My eyes wander to the suit he wears. The pleats of it are crisp, but the material has a faded look. “How many items of clothing do you own?” I ask.
He follows my gaze and self-consciously smooths down the material before he returns to looking at me. “We’re not here to talk about my wardrobe.”
“I bet not many,” I continue. “And I bet you’re still better off than most of the WUN’s citizens.”
He gives me a bored look, like he’s only listening because he must.
“It was not always like that,” I say. I draw in a deep breath and look around at my surroundings. There’s not even a window in this closet of a room. “Where am I?” I ask.
“You’re in the West,” he says carefully.
I figured that much.
“And when am I?” It’s an odd question, but judging by the lack of pain, I’m guessing I’ve recently been removed from a Sleeper.
He threads his fingers together. “You were injured a week ago.”
I only lost a week this time.
“Injured by your people,” I clarify.
Collins nods. “But you weren’t killed.”
“How benevolent of them. And where was their compassion when they bombed thousands of innocents that day?”
“Some sacrifices needed to be made—”
“Then you die.” I snap. “If you think sacrificing any life is necessary, then I want to see you give yours up first.”
Collins mouth tightens. “I didn’t give the orders for the West to bomb a city block.”
“But you’re defending them.”
I’m not sure why I’m even engaging in this conversation. This man doesn’t care.
He leans back in his seat. “The representatives want to work with you.”
“Of course they do,” I say.
Wars are often based off of ideological differences, and I have become an ideology that can win the war. And I am one that both sides can look to. After all, I was an emissary of the West before I was Queen of the East. Never has such an easy solution just fallen into the laps of so many powerful people.
“Give me one good reason why I should work with them.”
“The king is dead.”
My nostrils flare and my muscles tense, but other than that, I don’t react.
Collins cocks his head. “No words?”
He doesn’t want words. He wants me to weep or cheer or give him something that he can take to his bosses to manipulate me with.
Instead, I say, “Montes has cheated death longer than anyone else. I’ll need to see a body before I believe it.”
“You think highly of him.” It’s not a question, and Collins doesn’t state it as though it is, but I’m expected to answer nonetheless.
“Is there a point to this?” I say.
“From what I hear, he’s the one that hid you from the world for all this time.”
“And?” I say it like I don’t give a damn about the betrayal.
“It seems like something unforgivable,” Collins elaborates.
I’ve been in enough of these rooms and talked to enough of these men to know they are always trying to dig under your skin. I’m sure the tactic works when someone can be caught off-guard. But what could I possibly be surprised by at this point? I have lost everything I ever loved.
“And you’re assuming I forgave him,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows but inclines his head.
“That is not the worst thing the king has done to me.” I tilt my head. “What are you trying to do, create dissension between me and the king? He’s dead.”
But then, as I stare at him, my heart begins to beat faster and faster. Because creating dissention appears to be exactly what he’s doing. That would only be useful if …
I feel my shock wash over me. “The king is alive.”
Chapter 41
Serenity
Collins shakes his head. “I already told you, he’s dead.”
Now that I’m looking for it, I can see the WUN officer’s uncertainty.
He doesn’t know, which is good enough for me. If Montes could be alive, he likely is—one doesn’t survive a century and a half by sheer luck alone.
A surge of hope moves through me.
“Serenity, I urge you to weigh my next words carefully,” Collins says, settling into himself. “The representatives are willing to work with you. They want to end the war.”
I reign in my excitement. My plan—I’ll need to change it now that the king is likely alive.
Because Montes—
I cut the thought off.
The game plan, I remind myself.
“Your Majesty,” the man murmurs, dipping his head.
I’m surprised by the show of reverence.
He closes the door behind him and approaches me.
“You treat all your prisoners this nicely?” I ask, jingling my cuffs as I speak.
“No.” He pulls a chair up to the bed. “Just queens, I’m afraid. I’m Chief Officer Collins, head of the Western United Nation’s Security Department.”
“And you’re here to interrogate me?”
Collins gives me a wan smile. “I’m here to talk with you.
“Pretty words,” I say.
He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “You’ve done this before,” he states, settling himself in.
My eyes wander to the suit he wears. The pleats of it are crisp, but the material has a faded look. “How many items of clothing do you own?” I ask.
He follows my gaze and self-consciously smooths down the material before he returns to looking at me. “We’re not here to talk about my wardrobe.”
“I bet not many,” I continue. “And I bet you’re still better off than most of the WUN’s citizens.”
He gives me a bored look, like he’s only listening because he must.
“It was not always like that,” I say. I draw in a deep breath and look around at my surroundings. There’s not even a window in this closet of a room. “Where am I?” I ask.
“You’re in the West,” he says carefully.
I figured that much.
“And when am I?” It’s an odd question, but judging by the lack of pain, I’m guessing I’ve recently been removed from a Sleeper.
He threads his fingers together. “You were injured a week ago.”
I only lost a week this time.
“Injured by your people,” I clarify.
Collins nods. “But you weren’t killed.”
“How benevolent of them. And where was their compassion when they bombed thousands of innocents that day?”
“Some sacrifices needed to be made—”
“Then you die.” I snap. “If you think sacrificing any life is necessary, then I want to see you give yours up first.”
Collins mouth tightens. “I didn’t give the orders for the West to bomb a city block.”
“But you’re defending them.”
I’m not sure why I’m even engaging in this conversation. This man doesn’t care.
He leans back in his seat. “The representatives want to work with you.”
“Of course they do,” I say.
Wars are often based off of ideological differences, and I have become an ideology that can win the war. And I am one that both sides can look to. After all, I was an emissary of the West before I was Queen of the East. Never has such an easy solution just fallen into the laps of so many powerful people.
“Give me one good reason why I should work with them.”
“The king is dead.”
My nostrils flare and my muscles tense, but other than that, I don’t react.
Collins cocks his head. “No words?”
He doesn’t want words. He wants me to weep or cheer or give him something that he can take to his bosses to manipulate me with.
Instead, I say, “Montes has cheated death longer than anyone else. I’ll need to see a body before I believe it.”
“You think highly of him.” It’s not a question, and Collins doesn’t state it as though it is, but I’m expected to answer nonetheless.
“Is there a point to this?” I say.
“From what I hear, he’s the one that hid you from the world for all this time.”
“And?” I say it like I don’t give a damn about the betrayal.
“It seems like something unforgivable,” Collins elaborates.
I’ve been in enough of these rooms and talked to enough of these men to know they are always trying to dig under your skin. I’m sure the tactic works when someone can be caught off-guard. But what could I possibly be surprised by at this point? I have lost everything I ever loved.
“And you’re assuming I forgave him,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows but inclines his head.
“That is not the worst thing the king has done to me.” I tilt my head. “What are you trying to do, create dissension between me and the king? He’s dead.”
But then, as I stare at him, my heart begins to beat faster and faster. Because creating dissention appears to be exactly what he’s doing. That would only be useful if …
I feel my shock wash over me. “The king is alive.”
Chapter 41
Serenity
Collins shakes his head. “I already told you, he’s dead.”
Now that I’m looking for it, I can see the WUN officer’s uncertainty.
He doesn’t know, which is good enough for me. If Montes could be alive, he likely is—one doesn’t survive a century and a half by sheer luck alone.
A surge of hope moves through me.
“Serenity, I urge you to weigh my next words carefully,” Collins says, settling into himself. “The representatives are willing to work with you. They want to end the war.”
I reign in my excitement. My plan—I’ll need to change it now that the king is likely alive.
