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

by Laura Thalassa

  “What makes you think Montes is dead?” Alan says.

  “Don’t take me for a fool,” I say. “We would be having a different conversation if that were the case.” One where they made demands rather than requests of me.

  No one speaks, but in that silence I get affirmation that I am correct.

  He lives. My husband lives.

  Which means he will live long enough to see my deception.

  “We want peace,” Tito says, training his bulging eyes on me. “You and I know that will never happen while the king lives.”

  My jaw tightens. I know what these men want. I’ve been preparing for it. Planning for it.

  I take a deep breath. “I will kill Montes Lazuli for you,” I say, carefully looking each of them in the eye.

  My stomach churns sickeningly. I have become the traitor queen I was once accused of being.

  The room goes dead silent. Around me, the representatives look surprised, suspicious even. I bet they didn’t imagine the women who’s spoken out against them would state their terms then agree to them.

  “How do we know your word is good?” Gregory lazily asks.

  I can’t stop the ironic twist of my lips. It’s real rich of them to ask me that like they weren’t trying to convince me to work for them only seconds ago.

  “Your options are limited here,” Gregory continues, “but as soon as you board a plane and see your pretty life again, what will stop you from going back on your word?”

  What would my father do?

  Convince.

  I look around. “Do any of you know about my history?” The king’s former advisors do. Way back when, they had to watch the king parade around the sullen girl from the West.

  I take a step forward. “Let me tell you all a story.” I let my eyes rove over them. “Once there was a girl who lived in a city that no longer exists. She had a mother and a father and friends. And then a strange king came and took each one away from her, one by one. But it wasn’t enough. He forced her to marry him. And then, when she was planning on betraying him to his councilmembers, he found out.”

  The lie slips in easily enough.

  I see Montes’s old advisors sit up a little straighter. They betrayed the king a century ago. They still might remember the bloodbath that occurred in the conference room when the king learned of his councilmembers’ disloyalty. I’m hoping they do.

  “Yes,” I say. “Why do you think you and your brethren were spared? There are things the Beast of the East and I plotted, things he never got the chance to tell you all. We gave Montes the wrong names that day the councilors were shot dead.”

  My father, bless his soul, would be proud of me in this moment. Lying is a terrible thing, but it is better than violence, and when it has the power to end a war, it can even be admirable.

  “So the king found out his wife had betrayed him. But he couldn’t kill her.” My gaze moves over the representatives. “No, the evil king had fallen for his wife. So he kept her locked away in a machine, asleep indefinitely. And he never intended to wake her.”

  I go quiet, letting this alternate history sink in.

  “Why would I help him?” I finally ask. “With every fiber of my being, I hate him.” I glance down at my boots. “I always have,” I say quietly.

  The silence that follows this is pensive.

  Finally, “We will deliberate,” Ronaldo says. “Collins, take the queen to the prison quarters.”

  Collins hesitates, and it’s plain to see that this decision shocks him. He’d been so sure the representatives would treat me well if only I agreed to their demands.

  I don’t bother telling Collins it’s better this way. The king’s silk sheets and his sweet words made me forget several times what he was.

  There will be no forgetting this.

  The King

  My eyes blink open.

  I stare at the ceiling and breathe in deeply. I’ve been in the Sleeper enough times to know that when I wake up in this manner, it’s because I’ve come from one.

  Several officers surround my bed.

  Something’s wrong.

  I push myself up, my brows furrowing. I look for Serenity. She’s not here.

  I almost choke when I remember.

  She took a bullet to the gut. She fell, and she never rose.

  I saw her death upon her.

  “Tell me,” I order my men.

  If she’s dead, I will not rest until every last Western leader is obliterated.

  “The queen is alive,” Heinrich says, his face grim. “The representatives have her.”

  Some things are worse than death—being a prisoner of the West is one of them.

  I rise then, heedless of the fact that I’m essentially wearing thin cotton pants and nothing else. World’s should end for all the anguish I feel.

  My men hurriedly stand, trailing after me as I storm through the palace.

  “Montes, you should rest,” Marco says.

  I overturn a nearby table and spin on him. “Fuck resting.” He of all people should know. “Get the goddamn West on the phone. We’re getting her back.”

  Serenity

  Apparently the representatives like to eat where they shit. That’s the only explanation for why their prison sits directly below their domed building.

  I can tell from the stairwell I’m dragged down that there are floors upon floors of cells down here. Between the West’s decimated population and their work camps, I have no idea why they’d ever need so many.

  Then again … bad men have endless enemies.

  We move so far below the surface of the earth, that I feel all memory of the sun has been erased from this place. I don’t want to be underground so soon after I was released from the Sleeper. It’s damp down here. And cold. The chill of the place worms its way into my bones in a matter of minutes.

  “Are the East’s regional leaders imprisoned here?” I ask Collins.

  I don’t expect him to answer, but several seconds after I ask, he grunts something like an affirmation.

  “Are they okay?”

  Again, the silence draws out. Then, “You should worry about yourself,” he says gruffly. His answer leaves me more worried, not less.

  The cell I’m led to is nothing short of medieval. What isn’t covered by bars is inset with stone. There’s fetid puddles in several locations, and the entire area reeks of shit and piss and death. There’s no bed, and a filthy bucket is the closest thing to a toilet I’m going to get.

  You can tell a lot about a territory by the way they treat their prisoners. This doesn’t speak well for the men who depend on my loyalty. And it’s not endearing me to them.

  “I’m sorry,” Collins apologizes. He sounds genuine.

  I turn to face him. “You shouldn’t be.” I don’t elaborate.

  His head dips, like he can’t bear looking at me. “I’ll be back later.” He leaves quickly after that, taking most of the guards along with him.

  I pace for a while.

  Kill the king.

  I’ve never been able to accomplish this one task. And that’s exactly what the representatives want. What they’ve always wanted. All so that they can continue to torment the world without resistance.

  Slavery, concentration camps, crippling poverty. What fearful lives Westerners must live.

  All thirteen of those bastards need to die, even the one who wasn’t present.

  I will end the war, and I will kill them.

  Chapter 43

  Serenity

  After a while, I force myself to sit. I lean my back against the wall and rest my forearms on my knees, bowing my head over them. A shiver runs through me. My eyes land on that bucket.

  Fuck prisons.

  I haven’t hear
d a soul down here.

  “Hello?” I shout, just to see if any other prisoners are down here.

  Silence.

  Not even the guards respond, if only to tell me to shut up.

  I don’t know how long I sit there before I can no longer beat back thoughts of the king. Now that I’m almost sure he’s okay, I should feel relieved. That’s the last thing I feel. I promised the West his head.

  If only I could return my heart to the way it was before I met him. Duty and love are often opposing forces. Now is no different. And it doesn’t matter what paths the king and I travel together. There is only one way this can end.

  The only way it must.

  I dread that ending more than I’ve dreaded anything in my entire life.

  I’m dragged from my thoughts when I hear the whispers. Down the hall, up the corridor. Guards gossiping like the women of court.

  I lift my head. That’s when I notice it.

  A storm’s brewing.

  There’s a heaviness to the air, like my captors are bracing themselves for the worst.

  A grim smile stretches across my face.

  He’s coming.

  The devil is coming for me.

  When Collins returns to my cell, I’m waiting, my back against the wall, my legs crossed at the ankles, and my arms folded across my chest.

  “The representatives have come to a decision.”

  And here I was almost positive they’d leave me to molder for at least a day.

  He watches me as the iron bars slide back and the cell door opens. The guards come in and spin me around roughly, pushing my chest against the wall. They jerk my hands behind my back then cuff my wrists together.

  I’m dragged out of the cell and marched back to the circular room where the representatives wait. I’m cold, I smell like a latrine, and I’m not feeling very diplomatic at the moment.

  Just angry. Really, really angry.

  Twelve representatives wait for me.

  “We would like to work with you,” Tito says, his jowls shaking as he speaks. He says this as though they have the upper hand.

  I might be in shackles, but the representatives are the ones with their hands tied. I die, the king wins. It’s as simple as that.

  Nothing brings people together like a martyr.

  I pretend like I don’t grasp this very obvious fact.

  “You have thirty days to bring down the king,” Tito continues. “We will be monitoring you regularly. In case you have any misgivings, you should be warned: we have moles everywhere. If you decide to go back on your word, we will find out. You won’t like what becomes of you; traitors don’t receive clean deaths in this land.”

  The irony of the king’s old advisor telling me this isn’t lost on me.

  “Understood?” he adds.

  I give a sharp nod.

  “One of our men will seek you out. You will work directly with him.

  I look down at my shackled hands.

  “If I do this,” I say, lifting my head, “it will be filmed and distributed. I want this on record.”

  For the first time since I met them, I see some of the representatives smile.

  “It will be theatrical,” I continue, “and it will require your assistance.”

  “You will have it,” Alan says. He pauses before saying, “We will need proof of the kill.”

  A body. It’s the currency of conquerors.

  The men look hungry for the king’s death.

  “You’ll get a body,” I say, “but I want a peace agreement in return, one with equitable terms for my people.”

  “That goes without question,” Rodrigo says.

  Without question my ass. These men would rob an old lady blind if they could get away with it.

  “If you agree,” Tito continues, “we will release you immediately to the king.”

  This is happening.

  Oh, God, it’s really happening.

  I nod. The weight of my task settles on my shoulders.

  “I agree to your terms.”

  I stand in the middle of the Western city’s large central square, my hands still bound behind my back.

  Still a queen held for ransom.

  On all four corners, soldiers stand at the ready, loosely holding semi-automatic rifles in their arms. I can tell by the deadness in their eyes that these men have killed many people. I can also tell many people have died right where I stand by the brown bloodstains that stain the concrete at my feet.

  The rendezvous area doubles as an executioner’s square.

  Around us, the citizens of this place watch impassively. I bet most of them had to cultivate that bored look, lest their trigger-happy leaders find fault in whatever real expression they wish to wear.

  A single camera focuses on me and the representatives who sit at my back. Ahead of me, a large screen has been erected, much like the ones that were mounted at the speech I gave. Right now the screen is blank, save for an emblem of some sort that’s projected onto it. I’m guessing it’s the flag of the West. It looks nothing like the American flag I grew up with.

  We all wait. The wind stirs my hair, the square eerily silent.

  I don’t understand any of this, the presentation of my handoff, the strategy of it all, and what role I play. For all I know, this is actually an elaborate execution. The stains on the ground seem to suggest that.

  The screen flickers to life. A moment later, I see the king’s face stretched across it.

  I have to lock my knees to stay upright.

  Alive. I hadn’t fully believed it until now.

  His jaw tightens, his dark eyes unreadable.

  Now I really have no idea what’s going on.

  Behind me, one of the representatives begins to speak.

  “The thirteen representatives of the West do hereby release Her Majesty, Serenity Freeman Lazuli, to the Eastern Empire. We guarantee the queen safe passage home.”

  It’s the king’s turn to speak.

  Montes’s vein begins to throb. “I, Montes Lazuli, King of the East, do hereby declare before gods and men that in exchange for Her Majesty Serenity Lazuli’s safe return to the East, the territory known as Australia will be ceded to the representatives of the West.”

  Those words are strange, foreign things that should not be strung together in the same sentence.

  An entire landmass in return for me.

  I can’t catch my breath.

  An entire landmass. And it’s now under the care of the creatures at my back.

  I look over my shoulder, just to catch a glimpse of the representatives. Most of them wear grim smiles.

  Just as I’ve played the representatives to keep up appearances, they’ve played me and the king.

  Love is a weakness the king has discovered in himself. A weakness the representatives have exploited.

  I face forward again and find Montes staring at me. I can feel unbidden tears welling in my eyes.

  Now I’ve had two men in my life choose me over the welfare of a nation. First my father, and now my husband.

  Never again will I underestimate this man’s devotion. He will ruin countries for me.

  Above us, a jet of sorts enters the airspace.

  My hair whips about my face as it lowers itself to the ground ahead of me.

  “As a sign of good faith, we have allowed one of your aircraft into our city,” one of the representatives says.

  Montes and I still stare at each other when Collins approaches me and begins to unlock my cuffs. “Stay safe, Serenity,” he says quietly. “And be careful.”

  I don’t acknowledge his words. It would probably be bad for him if I did.

  I’m marched onto the aircraft. At the last
minute I turn around and face the representatives. I catch Ronaldo’s eye, and he nods to me.

  The West is ruled by thirteen devils, the East, two.

  And I am the worst one of them all.

  Chapter 44

  The King

  It takes nearly fifteen hours for the aircraft carrying Serenity to return to the East. This time, I wait for my queen just off to the side of the airstrip.

  I have this unreasonable fear that something will be wrong. That my pilot is a traitor. That as soon as the video call ended, the representatives shot her in the back. That the West will ambush the aircraft before it lands.

  My worries breed more worries, extrapolating into elaborate scenarios that I know cannot occur, but my heart won’t be reasoned with.

  Not until I watch her plane touch down.

  My pulse gallops.

  The aircraft rolls to a stop a short distance away from me and the engines die down. Each minute I wait is an eternity. I managed to stay away from Serenity for over a century, yet I now find I can barely stand the time we’re apart.

  Finally the engine quiets. The staircase lowers.

  A moment later, Serenity stands on the threshold. Her eyes find mine almost immediately. I know what she’s thinking, what they’re all thinking.

  How could he?

  How could I indeed? Australia is a territory I’ve ruled for a 113 years. A good territory.

  A territory I’ll get back. But I will do it with my queen at my side.

  A landmass is not nearly so fragile as a human life. It’ll be there tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

  I step away from the soldiers gathered around me, and they all give me plenty of space. This greeting is personal.

  I begin to move towards Serenity, my strides quickening the closer I get. She storms down the steps, her eyes trained on mine.

  The distance evaporates between us, and then I’m dragging her to me and forcing a kiss on her. I can’t say it’s all that gentle. I want her to fight back, I want to feel that brutal life force of hers come to life beneath my mouth and my hands.