The Queen of Traitors
Page 4
“Will?” I ask, remembering the name he threw out at me yesterday. There’s something downright spooky about learning of a relationship and having no recollection of it.
The general bows his head and nods.
I’m afraid to ask what happened to Will. Afraid of what else this man knows about us.
“You really don’t remember who you are?” he asks.
I stare at the rings on my left hand. “No.”
I am a woman unmade. Something of skin and meat and bone and consciousness, but not a person, not in the truest sense. I have no opinions, no past, no identity. It’s been stripped from me. And even here I can feel the wrongness of it.
“That bastard,” the general whispers.
I glance up at him. All the earlier heat in his expression is gone. Now he just looks old and defeated.
He studies me, something like pity softening those hard features. “Our sources believed he’d been working on a memory suppressant. Never thought he’d turn it on you.”
A memory suppressant. So that’s why I lack an identity. Someone deliberately erased my memory—the king, if the general is to be believed.
He could be lying. About everything. For all I know this entire situation was concocted for some purpose I’m unaware of.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m the former general of the Western United Nations—the WUN.” He says this as though it should ring a bell. It doesn’t.
“Who am I?” I ask.
“You were our former emissary.”
Past tense.
“But I am no longer?” The cell is proof of that. Still, I want to know what changed between then and now.
The general rubs his face.
“No, Serenity,” he sighs out. “No.”
White whiskers grow along his cheeks and jaw. He doesn’t strike me as a man who forgets to shave. Everything about him screams defeat, despite the fact that once he’s done here, he’ll be the one walking out that door a free man.
“What happened?” I ask.
I don’t think he’s going to answer me. I’m stepping out of line, the prisoner asking questions of her captor. But then he does speak. “The WUN surrendered to the Eastern Empire and you were part of the collateral.”
I furrow my brows. What he says makes no sense.
“It’s my fault,” he admits, leaning forward in his seat. He threads his hands together and rests them between his legs. “I made the call to give you to King Lazuli.”
Lazuli, like the stone on my finger. My stomach drops.
“‘Give’?” He makes it sound as though I was nothing more than a commodity. Little more than what I am now—a means to an end for these people.
“It was the only way,” the general says. He’s pleading with me, and I can tell this long ago decision cost him. “The king was prepared to rip apart the WUN. You were the only bargaining chip we had, and God, he wanted you so badly. He was willing to give us everything we wanted.”
Bile rises up in my throat again, and I swallow it back down.
“Why did he want me?”
He bows his head, staring at his clasped hands. “You left … quite the impression when you and your father negotiated the terms of our nation’s surrender.”
“So you gave me to him … in return for peace?” I say, making sense of his words.
He rubs his eyes. “Yes, I did.”
Outrage flares up in me. I may not recall this decision, but I had to live through it at some point. This general offered me to our enemy. Never mind that it saved countless other lives. This was the same man I must’ve worked with—whose son I had some sort of relationship with—and yet he threw me to the wolves.
I stare at my ring as an even more terrifying idea takes form. “I don’t work for the king, do I?”
The general sighs and meets my eyes. “No, Serenity, you don’t work for the king. You’re married to him.”
CHAPTER 3
Serenity
GIVEN TO THE king like a war prize.
“Do I love him?”
The general squints at me. “He killed your parents, razed your hometown, and if that sickness is what I suspect it is,” he nods to the toilet, “then you have him to thank for it as well. No, I don’t think you love him, but I do believe he’s poisoned your mind.”
I frown. This story is getting more and more twisted and harder for me to believe. This king sounds like the devil. Yet here I am, prisoner to the very people whose side I once fought on. I have to be missing something. No matter how heartless I might be, one doesn’t go from hate to love or swap loyalties without a good cause.
“Why would I marry him?”
“You were forced to.”
To be married to my parents’ killer … a shudder works its way through me. I may be heartless, but even I don’t deserve that kind of fate.
“Who are these people?” I glance at the one-way mirror.
“They’re the last soldiers willing to fight the king. The world is now controlled entirely by him. The Resistance and other grassroots organizations are the only ones that stand in his way. Us and you.”
Someone knocks on the door, and the general stands.
He hesitates, then says, “Perhaps it would do to take you outside and show what your husband has done to our world.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of a prisoner getting that type of privilege.” Not that I’ve heard much of anything since my memory was wiped. It’s a mystery how I know what a typical prisoner’s experience should be, and the source of the knowledge left no maker’s mark.
“You’re not a typical prisoner,” the general says. “For better or worse, you’re the queen of this entire rock.”
He pauses at the door. “No one here is going to torture you. Not if I can help it. But the reality of your situation is that your life is no longer in your control.”
“Was it ever?” I ask, searching his eyes.
I genuinely want to know. Did I choose to do wrong by these people, or was I forced into it? The distinction matters.
The general hesitates. “No,” he finally says, “it wasn’t.”
I FIND I miss the general once he leaves. I don’t want to miss him. I have no illusions that he likes me, and by the end of our discussion, I’m not so sure I like him all that much either.
The general bows his head and nods.
I’m afraid to ask what happened to Will. Afraid of what else this man knows about us.
“You really don’t remember who you are?” he asks.
I stare at the rings on my left hand. “No.”
I am a woman unmade. Something of skin and meat and bone and consciousness, but not a person, not in the truest sense. I have no opinions, no past, no identity. It’s been stripped from me. And even here I can feel the wrongness of it.
“That bastard,” the general whispers.
I glance up at him. All the earlier heat in his expression is gone. Now he just looks old and defeated.
He studies me, something like pity softening those hard features. “Our sources believed he’d been working on a memory suppressant. Never thought he’d turn it on you.”
A memory suppressant. So that’s why I lack an identity. Someone deliberately erased my memory—the king, if the general is to be believed.
He could be lying. About everything. For all I know this entire situation was concocted for some purpose I’m unaware of.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m the former general of the Western United Nations—the WUN.” He says this as though it should ring a bell. It doesn’t.
“Who am I?” I ask.
“You were our former emissary.”
Past tense.
“But I am no longer?” The cell is proof of that. Still, I want to know what changed between then and now.
The general rubs his face.
“No, Serenity,” he sighs out. “No.”
White whiskers grow along his cheeks and jaw. He doesn’t strike me as a man who forgets to shave. Everything about him screams defeat, despite the fact that once he’s done here, he’ll be the one walking out that door a free man.
“What happened?” I ask.
I don’t think he’s going to answer me. I’m stepping out of line, the prisoner asking questions of her captor. But then he does speak. “The WUN surrendered to the Eastern Empire and you were part of the collateral.”
I furrow my brows. What he says makes no sense.
“It’s my fault,” he admits, leaning forward in his seat. He threads his hands together and rests them between his legs. “I made the call to give you to King Lazuli.”
Lazuli, like the stone on my finger. My stomach drops.
“‘Give’?” He makes it sound as though I was nothing more than a commodity. Little more than what I am now—a means to an end for these people.
“It was the only way,” the general says. He’s pleading with me, and I can tell this long ago decision cost him. “The king was prepared to rip apart the WUN. You were the only bargaining chip we had, and God, he wanted you so badly. He was willing to give us everything we wanted.”
Bile rises up in my throat again, and I swallow it back down.
“Why did he want me?”
He bows his head, staring at his clasped hands. “You left … quite the impression when you and your father negotiated the terms of our nation’s surrender.”
“So you gave me to him … in return for peace?” I say, making sense of his words.
He rubs his eyes. “Yes, I did.”
Outrage flares up in me. I may not recall this decision, but I had to live through it at some point. This general offered me to our enemy. Never mind that it saved countless other lives. This was the same man I must’ve worked with—whose son I had some sort of relationship with—and yet he threw me to the wolves.
I stare at my ring as an even more terrifying idea takes form. “I don’t work for the king, do I?”
The general sighs and meets my eyes. “No, Serenity, you don’t work for the king. You’re married to him.”
CHAPTER 3
Serenity
GIVEN TO THE king like a war prize.
“Do I love him?”
The general squints at me. “He killed your parents, razed your hometown, and if that sickness is what I suspect it is,” he nods to the toilet, “then you have him to thank for it as well. No, I don’t think you love him, but I do believe he’s poisoned your mind.”
I frown. This story is getting more and more twisted and harder for me to believe. This king sounds like the devil. Yet here I am, prisoner to the very people whose side I once fought on. I have to be missing something. No matter how heartless I might be, one doesn’t go from hate to love or swap loyalties without a good cause.
“Why would I marry him?”
“You were forced to.”
To be married to my parents’ killer … a shudder works its way through me. I may be heartless, but even I don’t deserve that kind of fate.
“Who are these people?” I glance at the one-way mirror.
“They’re the last soldiers willing to fight the king. The world is now controlled entirely by him. The Resistance and other grassroots organizations are the only ones that stand in his way. Us and you.”
Someone knocks on the door, and the general stands.
He hesitates, then says, “Perhaps it would do to take you outside and show what your husband has done to our world.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of a prisoner getting that type of privilege.” Not that I’ve heard much of anything since my memory was wiped. It’s a mystery how I know what a typical prisoner’s experience should be, and the source of the knowledge left no maker’s mark.
“You’re not a typical prisoner,” the general says. “For better or worse, you’re the queen of this entire rock.”
He pauses at the door. “No one here is going to torture you. Not if I can help it. But the reality of your situation is that your life is no longer in your control.”
“Was it ever?” I ask, searching his eyes.
I genuinely want to know. Did I choose to do wrong by these people, or was I forced into it? The distinction matters.
The general hesitates. “No,” he finally says, “it wasn’t.”
I FIND I miss the general once he leaves. I don’t want to miss him. I have no illusions that he likes me, and by the end of our discussion, I’m not so sure I like him all that much either.
