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

by Laura Thalassa

  My gaze doesn’t linger on the bed for long, though.

  Not when I catch sight of a crib.

  My knees go weak.

  Not a baby. Please, not that.

  My chest tightens. I really don’t want to get any closer.

  But, in spite of myself, I creep towards the crib with the rest of the soldiers. There’s a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. The room is too silent.

  In front of me, Montes stiffens. “Nire bihotza—”

  He tries to block my view, but it’s too late.

  I catch sight of a tiny, unmoving body.

  I barely have time to push away from my guards before I vomit.

  I’m not the only one either. Grown men and women join me, people who I know have seen horrible things.

  My stomach spasms over and over. I try to catch my breath, but I can’t.

  Montes was right. We might be monsters, but we’re not evil.

  Not like this.

  My crown sits heavy on my head as I stare out at the crowds the next day.

  The first day I wore a crown, my child died. And that’s what it will always represent to me. Innocents dying for causes evil people uphold.

  As heavy as my crown is, my heart is heavier.

  “How badly do you want peace?” I open.

  The people of Kabul roar in response.

  This city has no official stadium, so I’m giving my speech on an open expanse of land, one where several old buildings once stood. Now all that remains are ruins.

  There are cameramen both offstage and on, and I see them move closer as I began to speak. At my back I know there’s a large screen magnifying me. I wonder just how much they can see of my expression.

  “Good,” I say, “because there are people out there that will make you fight for it. They will make you die for it.”

  My eyes flick only briefly to the side of the stage, where Montes watches me.

  “What I’m about to tell you—I was advised not to say. But you have a right to know.”

  I see at least one officer begin to rub his temples.

  “The leaders of each of the cities I’ve been visiting are being taken, one by one.”

  Already we’ve begun to notify the other cities and put their leaders on high alert that the West is targeting them. Many have pulled out of the tour altogether. Others have gone into hiding.

  Murmurs run through the audience. Up until now, the king has kept quiet on this. His greatest fear was that the news would spark aimless violence among the citizens of the East.

  And it might. They still have a right to know. And if I’m to be some great savior of theirs, then I should be the one to deliver the news.

  “Someone doesn’t want peace. Someone is afraid of what I am doing.”

  I turn my attention to the cameras because what I’m about to say is for the representatives. “To our enemies, listen carefully: Pray I don’t find you. If I do, I will make you pay.”

  My gaze moves back to my audience; the crowd is roaring with outrage and excitement. “If you are angry, you have a right to be. No one should live in a world where they must fear for their life. But I will also tell you this: death cannot avenge death, and bloodshed cannot avenge bloodshed. Justice must be served, but it shouldn’t turn good men into wicked ones.”

  I take off the crown. I flip it over in my hands. My audience has gone quiet.

  “I’ve also been told that I should wear this. That this is what you want to see.” I look up from the crown, towards the people watching me. “This,” I hold up the headpiece, “means nothing. I am not above you. I am one of you.

  “The world is interested in telling you all the ways we’re different. You have the East and the West. Ruler and ruled. Rich and poor.

  “But they lie.”

  I was never a very good orator. But this is different. The words are coming to me, born from a fire in my soul. I’m angry and excited and so very, very full of life.

  “I killed many men during my time as a soldier,” I say. In the past, admitting something like this would be a disaster. But these people already know I’m no idle ruler. “And I saw many men die. They all bled the same. We are all the same. And this,” I hold up the crown. “This can go fuck itself.” I fling the crown offstage, towards some of the king’s soldiers. Much as I’d like to give it back to the people, I fear something as precious as gold would be enough to draw blood between civilians.

  The audience bellows at the sight. This is fervor. This is revolution.

  “We are all the same,” I say. “Let’s end this war together. As equals.”

  The crowd begins thumping their chests, the rhythm picking up pace until it’s one continuous sound.

  My eyes cut to the king, who stands just offstage. He rubs his chin, his eyes glinting as he watches me. When he notices me looking, he inclines his head, and the beginnings of a smile form along his lips.

  Our enemies should be afraid.

  I am a bomb, and they’ve just lit the fuse.

  Chapter 34

  Serenity

  We leave Kabul shortly after the speech, our next stop, Shanghai. The pacing of our itinerary was brutal to begin with, but now that figureheads have been disappearing, we’re moving through the tour at a breakneck speed.

  I fall asleep fully clothed on the airplane’s bed, my face smooshed against the sheets. I rouse only once, when a familiar someone covers me with a blanket.

  Montes’s fingers trail down my cheek. My eyes open just enough to see him staring intently at me.

  “I—” I almost say it then. Those three dreaded words that I’ve kept from the king for so long. It’s equally shocking how natural they come, and how badly they want to be let out.

  The king’s touch stills.

  “I’m happy you’re here,” I murmur.

  “Always,” he says, his fingers moving once more.

  I’m already falling back asleep, like I didn’t almost just surrender the last bit of my heart.

  I’m jerked awake when the plane dips sharply to the left. I grip the edges of the mattress to keep from rolling.

  The door to the back cabin is closed but on the other side I hear raised voices, their tones laced with controlled panic.

  Quickly, I get up, shaking off the last of my grogginess, and stumble to the door.

  When I open it I see Montes on the other side, heading straight for my room, presumably to wake me.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Three enemy aircraft share our airspace,” he says, his expression grim.

  I glance out the window but see nothing.

  “Are they armed?” I ask. It’s a ridiculous question. Of course they are.

  “Undoubtedly,” Montes echoes my thoughts, “but they haven’t shot us down yet.”

  No sooner are the words out of his mouth than I hear a distant hiss.

  I’ve missed out on a hundred years of civilization, and yet in all that time weaponry hasn’t changed much. Not if the sound I’m hearing is a—

  “Missile incoming,” the pilot informs us over an intercom. “Engaging the ABM system.”

  It’s a fancy way of saying we’re going to blow that fucker out of the sky. That is, if it doesn’t hit us first.

  The noise gets louder, and louder, and then—

  BOOM!

  The sky lights up as a fireball unfurls some distance away from us. A split second later the shock wave hits us, sending the plane canting, and throwing us idiots not belted in across the cabin.

  I slam into the wall, my body dropping into the row of seats beneath it. When I look up, I see Montes on the floor nearby, crawling towards me.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod. �
��You?”

  “Yeah.” He exhales the word out. He jerks his head towards the seats. “Strap in. It’s going to get rough.”

  I right myself and begin to do just that. The plane starts losing altitude rapidly. I grab my stomach as we plummet. An alarm goes off and the overhead lights start to flash.

  Montes makes it to the seat next to me and straps himself in.

  “Has this happened to you before?” I ask.

  He grabs my hand, his face stony. “Yes.”

  The king’s men follow our lead, scrambling into seats and hastily buckling themselves in.

  “And how did that end?” I ask. He obviously survived it.

  “I was in the Sleeper for a month.” He doesn’t elaborate, which means it was likely worse than what I might imagine.

  I hear another distant hiss start up as our plane continues to drop from the sky.

  “ABM system reengaged,” the pilot announces.

  Another explosion follows the first, rocking the plane further. The people that still aren’t buckled go tumbling across the cabin once more. One of them is Marco, and he falls close to my feet.

  Fighting my baser impulses, I reach out a hand and drag him up to the seat next to me.

  He nods his thanks, buckling his seatbelt right away. I feel the king’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look over at him. I don’t want to see his gratitude.

  Shrapnel pings against the outside of the plane. But it’s not until I hear the screeching sound of metal smashing into metal and the aircraft shudders that my eyes move to the window. Outside I see one of the engines catch fire.

  How long does good fortune last for people like us? This is Russian roulette, and this might be the shot the kills us.

  I squeeze the king’s hand and take a calming breath. I don’t fear the end. I haven’t for a very long time. This isn’t the way I’d choose to go, but there are worse ways to die than reclining in a plush chair, the world spread out beneath you.

  The alarms are still blaring, the officers all have wide eyes. But no one screams. Montes brings my hand to his mouth and holds our entwined hands there.

  I see his lips move. I can’t hear his words, but I know what he’s saying.

  I love you.

  I pinch my lips together. Only hours ago I almost said those very words right back to him.

  His gaze meets mine. My mouth parts. I feel those words coming back, moving up my throat. They want out.

  The plane hits some turbulence, breaking the spell. My gaze cuts away from him as my body’s jerked about. The moment’s gone, and if we die right now, we’ll die with him never hearing those three words fall from my lips.

  I can’t tell if I feel relief or disappointment.

  Both, I think.

  Our seats begin to shake as our velocity increases. Above the shrill alarm I swear I hear the rumble of engines. Through the aircraft’s tiny windows, I catch a glimpse of fighter jets. If they’ve come to end us, they got here too late.

  But as I watch, they accelerate past us, presumably towards the enemy, who I still haven’t seen.

  The officers begin to clap and whoop at the sight, like we’ve been saved. All those jets managed to do was head off one enemy. But now gravity is our more obvious opponent.

  Our aircraft continues to plunge straight towards the earth. I hate that I have enough time to feel my mortality slipping through my fingers.

  I swear I feel the plane pull up, but I have no way of knowing whether that’s just wishful thinking.

  The ground is getting closer and closer. Our angle is still bad.

  I look at Montes one more time. If I’m going to die, it will be staring into his eyes. We were bound to go down together.

  When I meet his gaze, I can see relief, but I don’t know what put the expression there.

  It turns out that, whatever the reason, he’ll live to tell me about it.

  The plane levels out at the very last minute.

  My gaze is ripped away from him as we slam into the earth. I’m jerked violently against my seatbelt. Part of the ceiling pulls away from the metal frame on impact, cutting off my view of the front half of the cabin.

  The world is consumed by an awful screeching noise as the plane slides across the ground. I hear plastic and metal ripping away from the underside of the plane. A few screams join the noise, some panicked, and some high-pitched cries that cut off sharply.

  And then, miraculously, we grind to a stop.

  For several seconds I do nothing but catch my breath.

  I didn’t die.

  “Nire bihotza, my hand.”

  I hear Montes’s voice, and my chest tightens almost painfully.

  The king didn’t die either.

  A choked sound comes out of my mouth as I face him and see that he is, in fact, alive.

  I release his hand, a hand I’ve been squeezing the life out of, and cup the side of his face. I can’t put into words what I feel. But now the relief that was so blatant in his eyes earlier seems to be making a home for itself beneath my sternum.

  I pull him to me and kiss him roughly. How horrifying that my heart has come to rely on this creature.

  I feel his surprise—he still isn’t used to my affection, especially when I do it in public. But once his shock wears off, he kisses me back with a possessive intensity I’ve become familiar with.

  Death will come for us both, sooner rather than later, but it won’t happen today.

  Chapter 35

  Serenity

  I watch the unfamiliar scenery pass me by. Montes and I sit in the back of the armored vehicle that arrived on scene shortly after we crashed.

  Two of the king’s men didn’t survive the crash landing. One’s neck snapped and the other was crushed under the section of ceiling that ripped away from the airplane’s frame.

  I’m so numb. At some point, you see too many people die. It becomes just one more ache in your heart. Another person taken too soon.

  It takes several hours to reach Shanghai. When we do, I can only stare. Many of the buildings are in ruins, but what remains is in use. And the structures are from before. They’ve been kept up for over a century.

  We eventually pull up to a high-rise that faces the East China Sea.

  I should be taken with the sparkling ocean. I never imagined I’d see an ocean this far east. And it’s beautiful. But I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from the goliath we’ve stopped in front of.

  We step out of the car, some combo of sewage and ocean air carried along the breeze.

  “Have you ever been to the top of a skyscraper?” Montes asks, steering me towards it.

  I shake my head. Montes had cornered me inside an abandoned skyscraper once, when I lost my memory, but I never made it close to the top.

  “We’re going to the top?”

  Montes gives me just the barest hint of a smile. Some uncomfortable combination of excitement and trepidation fills me at the possibility, especially so soon after we were shot out of the sky.

  The rest of our brigade exits their cars, and we all enter the lobby. The people inside stare and stare. It’s probably a shock in itself to see the king of half the world. But their eyes linger the longest on me. And then out of the blue, one of them begins to thump their chest slowly.

  Several more join in. Within seconds the whole room is doing it, the tempo increasing to a frantic pace.

  This is becoming a habit, I notice.

  I nod to them, and I’m sure I look more demure than I am. Montes waves, his other hand pressed against the small of my back.

  “You were right,” he says, his voice low. “This campaign will help end the war. Look at them. They will die for you.”

  “I don’t want anyone to die for me,” I whispe
r furiously back to him.

  “That, my queen, is no longer for you to decide.”

  The King

  The sour taste at the back of my throat hasn’t disappeared since my enemies tried to shoot us from the sky. It’s been decades since the West has pulled such a risky maneuver.

  They will pay for it.

  Already I’ve ordered attacks on several Western outposts they thought I didn’t know about. I feel the familiar blood hunger. I want the sort of intimate revenge I swore off a long time ago.

  It was easy enough to swear it off back then. For a long time I was deadened to most things. And then Serenity woke, and my heart awoke with her. Now it doesn’t know how to remove itself from cold strategy.

  My eyes fall on my queen as she moves about our quarters, taking in each furnishing and every detail.

  No, my heart is no longer cold.

  Christ, I want to hide this woman.

  If I thought she’d forgive me for it, I would lock her away someplace where my enemies could never find her. But I think that would just about push the last of my luck with Serenity, and I don’t want to give her another reason to despise me. She has too many of those already.

  She stops in front of one of the windows, placing her fingertips against it.

  “I’m used to seeing these without the glass still intact,” she says.

  “War hasn’t destroyed everything,” I say.

  “No,” she agrees, dropping her hand. She casts me an enigmatic look. “Not everything.”

  She begins removing her weapons and setting them on the small nightstand next to our bed.

  Savage woman.

  I watch her as she peels off one soiled clothing item after the next, dropping them where she stands. It’s obvious her mind is in other places; she’s oblivious to my eyes on her.

  There’s a smudge of dirt just behind her ear—a place she’d never notice or think to clean. I have the oddest desire to wipe it away.

  Instead my eyes travel from it to the delicate line of her neck, then down her back. Her body is so small for such a force of nature. Sometimes I forget that. She takes up such a big part of my world.