The Queen of All That Lives (The Fallen World Book 3)

by Laura Thalassa

  This world is strange. The moment I believe it’s identical to the one I left, some tidbit filters in that has me second-guessing everything.

  Eventually, however, a picture begins to stitch itself together. The world’s population has been decimated by war and sickness. Efforts to clean radiation from the water and soil are ongoing. Not as many people are suffering from famine, but that’s only because there are so few people left. Even the small annual outputs in the farming industry can sustain them. Aside from outright killing, cancer is the leading cause of death, though every once in a while the plague sweeps through and takes its place.

  From what I understand, there are cures for many of the world’s health issues, but there isn’t enough money to make these cures widespread. The end result is a huge economic gap between the haves and have-nots. People are discontent. They know nothing but war and living on the edge.

  I drum my fingers on the table as we hear yet another report from some lieutenant of some battalion on the state of his troops and the intel they’ve gathered on the enemy. I don’t pretend to be the authority on anything, but if I had to guess, I’d say that these officers have been running in circles for as long as anyone can remember, discussing the same strategies, the same concerns, and applying the same answers they always have. And this entire time no one’s realized that they need to derail themselves.

  I stand, my chair scraping back as I do so. The sound echoes throughout the room, interrupting the speaker. The officer’s voice dies away as dozens upon dozens of gazes move to me.

  “Is war all we plan on talking about?”

  These people don’t understand. I can see it in their confused gazes. In a war council you talk about war.

  I make eye contact with many of them. “War doesn’t end war,” I say. “Peace does.”

  I’m sure they think me an idiot. I’m saying nothing they don’t already understand. But knowing something and framing the world through that lens are two very different things.

  “You won’t win this war by plotting ways to destroy the enemy—necessary though that might be,” I say. “You’ll win it by forging peace.”

  Again, I’m saying nothing new.

  “Your Majesty, how do you suggest we forge peace?” One of the female officers asks this.

  I glance down at the king. “You promised to give me whatever I asked for,” I breathe.

  His face wipes clean of all expression. He knows he’s been had before I speak.

  “I will campaign for it and break bread with whomever I must,” I say to the room, though my eyes stay trained on the king. “And I will end this, once and for all.”

  This is what intimacy cost the king.

  Power. Control.

  He might have allowed me onto his war council, but I know with certainty Montes was never going to place me in a position of true power. Not when I’m so iconic. Not when a position like this often means capture or death.

  So I’m carving the position out for myself.

  That vein begins to pound in the king’s temple as I hijack the meeting. It’s not just anger I see rising to the surface. It’s panic. The man who controls nearly everything is realizing he just bargained away something he shouldn’t have.

  I tear my gaze away from Montes to look out at the room. I can feel that wildness stirring beneath my veins, the same excitement that comes before battle. Only this time, it’s so much sweeter because I’m solving a problem, not exacerbating it.

  “The king will still lead all the current war efforts, but we will be incorporating my strategy into it,” I say to the room.

  I am no fool. I need Montes’s expertise and knowledge. I just want to build my tactics on the foundation he’s laid.

  “I don’t know how much you all know about my past,” I say, moving around the table. I can feel the king’s eyes like a brand on my back. “But before I slept, before I even married the king, I was a soldier, just like many of you. I was a soldier—and an emissary.”

  The people sitting in on this meeting look alive and attentive, when only minutes ago many wore bored, listless expressions.

  “I was taught to fight, but I was groomed to negotiate.”

  I throw a glance back at Montes. His eyes burn with his fury and with something brighter, something much more honorable.

  “Long ago, I forged a peace treaty with a hostile nation. I will do so again, and I won’t give the representatives of the West a choice.”

  “You still haven’t answered how you propose to go about attaining this.” Heinrich says this. The grand marshal looks skeptical, as do many of the other men and women gathered here.

  The true brilliance of this plan, and the ultimate irony, is that Montes had handed me the answer on a silver platter.

  “I appear to already be a symbol of freedom to the people.” I pace as I speak. “We are going to encourage that belief, and we’re going to win the common people over. I am going to fight for them and speak for them until I become synonymous with victory, regardless of what nation they belong to.”

  I watch the officers faces as they mull this possibility over. Many appear unsure, but more appear intrigued.

  “Ideology will win us this war,” I say.

  The room is quiet. I don’t dare look back at Montes. All I can think is that he is indeed a changed man to have not intervened thus far.

  “Whoever is in charge of coordinating the king’s political maneuvers,” I say, “I want you to schedule a series of meetings.” My footfalls echo as I move to the center of the room. “I want to meet with every regional leader—especially those who have a history of disliking the king. Even those that belong to the Western United Nations. And I want to meet with the leaders of every grassroots organization and vigilante group.”

  Some people are writing furiously. Others are staring at me with bright eyes, and still others look grim. But no one, no one appears unengaged. That, if nothing else, is one accomplishment of this meeting. This struggle needs to mean something to people. And I bet it hasn’t in quite some time.

  “I plan on creating alliances with each and every one of these leaders.”

  Someone interrupts. “But what you’re saying—some of these men and women are terrorists, most no better than the leaders of West.”

  I seek out the voice. I smile a little when my eyes find the officer. “I don’t plan on catering to their demands. I’m going to convince them to get behind mine.”

  This lesson I learned from the king. When to compromise, and when not to. For all of Montes’s terrible decisions, he’s great at getting people to do his bidding without conceding anything himself.

  I pause, my gaze sweeping over the men and women in the room. “And finally,” I say, “I want to meet with the WUN’s representatives—either directly or over video.”

  Chapter 19

  Serenity

  “Are you insane?”

  I turn to face the king.

  The last of the room’s inhabitants have left, leaving me alone with Montes.

  He leans against the double doors that lead out. Only a minute ago he’d been swapping some final comments with his officers. Now that everyone’s gone, he’s dropped any pretense that this was a joint decision. Though, technically, it was.

  I walk over to him slowly. When I get close I say quite slowly, “Fuck. You.” All my civility is gone.

  He rears back just slightly, enough to let me know I surprised him.

  Good. Finally I can let the full spectrum of my feelings show.

  I’m one raw, savage girl, and he has wronged me.

  “You selfish bastard,” I continue. “You really thought I would just jump into bed with you without a damn good reason?”

  His jaw tightens.

  I’ve learned how to play the king’
s games, and now the player is getting played.

  “You had something I wanted, and I had something you wanted.” I am treading in very, very dangerous territory.

  Montes hasn’t spoken, but that vein in his temple throbs.

  I move away from him. The screens have been rolled back up, and I can see all those conquered territories once more. The sight of them still disgusts me.

  “You can have your intimacy and I can campaign for peace,” I say, rotating to face him, “or it can all go away—the intimacy, the camaraderie—all of it. I will become the bane of your existence.”

  He doesn’t react—not immediately. I feel something like energy gathering behind him.

  When he finally begins to stalk towards me, I have to force myself to stay rooted where I am. There’s a reason he’s been the king for this long. His power moves with him, and right now it’s intimidating the hell out of me.

  He cocks his head, assessing me like a hunter does prey. “So my little wife decided to try her hand at strategy?” he says, his footsteps echoing through the room. “I am impressed.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth. Now it’s my turn to stay quiet.

  He squints at me. “What other schemes have you been up to?”

  I look over at the bits and pieces of the maps that I can see. “You’re not the one who should be worried about their spouse scheming.”

  He captures my jaw with his hand and peers into my eyes. I try to jerk away, but he won’t release his hold.

  His gaze searches mine. “You do have something else up your sleeve,” he says.

  I do.

  I don’t look away from him. I don’t give him any sign at all on whether or not he’s correct.

  The air shifts, and I can’t tell whether it’s anger or passion that fills the room, only that I’m choking on it. Knowing us, it’s probably both.

  “If you’re hiding something from me, I will find out.” His voice is steady and quiet. Lethal. People die after hearing that tone.

  “And if you’re hiding something from me,” I say, “then so will I.”

  His calculating eyes brighten, and a whisper of a smile crosses his face. He inclines his head.

  He still grips my jaw. “So my vicious little wife plans on ending the war. And she wants power and autonomy along the way,” he says, still studying me.

  Yes. That’s precisely what I want.

  The king taps my jaw with his index finger. His vein is still pounding, and his features are just as uncompromising as I’ve ever seen them.

  He pulls my head in close. “I will keep my end of the bargain.”

  He kisses me then, a punishing, severe kiss that lets me know just how displeased he is. I revel in it.

  As his mouth moves against mine, his fingers drop to the waistband of my pants. He flicks the top button open.

  I pull away from the kiss with a gasp, grabbing his wrist.

  In response, he presses me closer. “This is what I get for your little stunt. You promised me intimacy,” he breathes against my cheek. “I want it.”

  Surprise and a deviant sort of satisfaction unfurl within me. I enjoy sex, and I enjoy an angry king.

  I release his wrist and let his hand dip down into my pants. I gasp again as he begins to work me.

  “My vicious little wife, you do me proud,” he says. “I should’ve known.” He dips his mouth close to my ear. “You’ve gotten a taste for playing games after all.”

  And so I have.

  “I want to see it,” I say that evening.

  The ocean breeze blows my hair. We’re back outside, finishing dinner as the sun sets.

  The scenery of this place always gets to me. Oranges and reds shimmer off the sea’s surface. It’s breathtaking, and looking at it, you would never know that across those waters people are suffering.

  “See what?” Montes says, lounging back in his seat.

  “The place where I slept,” I say.

  It might be my imagination, but out here in the fading light, the king looks distinctly uncomfortable. He appraises me from across the table.

  I wish I could appear just as relaxed as the king, but nothing will loosen my limbs. The thought of seeing my resting place has me wound up.

  “Alright, my queen,” he finally says.

  Just like that. No fighting, no wrangling, no demanding on his part. The fact that he doesn’t try to get something from me in return makes me more nervous, not less.

  His chair scrapes back and he stands.

  Now. He’s planning on showing me right now.

  I hide my surprise. I hadn’t imagined the gratification would be this immediate.

  I rise to my feet, dropping my napkin on the table.

  Montes comes to my side, and, placing a hand on the small of my back, he steers me forward. We cross the gardens and head back into the towering building.

  So it’s inside the very palace itself. Part of me had imagined that I would be sleeping in some sort of crypt on the palace grounds, far away from the living.

  He leads me down several hallways, and with each turn the setting becomes increasingly familiar.

  We end up right back in front of our bedroom.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  I can’t tell whether this is a trick or not.

  Montes smiles at my expression, his eyes gleaming. “You thought I’d keep you anywhere else?” he asks as he opens the door.

  “You kept me in your room?”

  For a second, I imagine myself laid out on the bed, stiff like the dead, before I remember that I was encased in the Sleeper.

  “Not exactly.” He leaves me at the threshold, and I watch him, puzzled, as he heads to a large framed painting.

  A familiar unease washes through me, one that’s reserved for unnatural things. There is something frightening about watching this beautiful man share his dark secret. Something wrong.

  Montes turns back to look at me as he swings the frame back.

  My lips part with realization. There’s another room. A hidden one. Now that the painting is moved aside, I make out a door camouflaged with the rest of the wall. A discreet thumbprint scanner is embedded next to it.

  The king presses his thumb against it, and a second later it blinks green. With a pressurized hiss, the door unlocks. He holds it open for me.

  What lies beyond is cloaked in shadow. Suddenly I’m not so sure how much I want to see where I rested. What’s to stop the king from forcing me back into the machine?

  He notices my hesitation. “Serenity, you don’t have to see this.”

  My paranoia dissipates. If he wanted to put me under, he’d need a doctor and a sedative, and I know he has neither.

  I still don’t trust him. Not with everything.

  I brush past him as I step into the corridor. Around us, dim lights flicker to life. I press my palm against one of the walls and turn my head, following the line of the surface until it disappears into darkness. I squint as my eyes make out …

  Windows. Windows that look into the palace’s rooms.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  Montes’s voice comes from behind me. “A king always has secrets. Secrets and enemies. This is where I used come to be alone with you.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “Come.” He places a hand against my back and leads me once more.

  As we walk, more lights flicker on.

  “There’s another entrance to this passageway through my office. We believe that’s the one your abductors used.”

  I’m not paying much attention to him, too busy staring in horror at room after room that we pass. He spies on people.

  “This is wrong,” I murmur.

  “It’
s saved my life several times.”

  I come to a stop as a thought hits me. “These are one-sided mirrors, aren’t they?”

  “They are.”

  There was a mirror in the room I stayed in. Twice I had heard a thump on the other side of it. Twice its surface vibrated.

  “You watched me.” Horror bleeds to anger.

  He appears amused. “When I wanted to see you, I visited.” The light glints off his dark eyes. “I did not watch you from behind glass.”

  I search his face, looking for the lie in his words. I see only honesty. I believe him, and yet …

  “Who else has access to these passageways?”

  “No one. I alone come and go through them.”

  I try not to think about the fact that Montes was the only company I kept while I slept.

  “Well,” I say, “we know at least half a dozen other men know of this place.”

  “Knew,” he corrects. “I believe you took care of that situation.”

  It’s an unwelcome reminder. I now have their faces to add to the ghosts that haunt me.

  “Someone else was back here. I heard them while I was in my room.”

  Montes glances down at me, his brows knitted. He searches my face. He must see that I’m not lying because a frown forms. “I will look into it.”

  I appreciate this about the king. He takes my concerns seriously.

  We walk for a while, the passageway twisting every so often as it maneuvers around rooms. The corridor widens as we get to a set of thick double doors.

  The king leans away from me to scan his thumb once more. I hear the latch click as it unlocks, and then Montes is opening one of the doors.

  My earlier skittishness returns as I stare down at the massive marble staircase that descends away from me and the giant pylons that hold up the roof high above. I lived under the earth for years when the bunker was my home. I should have no qualms about entering this room. But my blood and my bones know this place and they recoil from it.