The king bends down and kisses my forehead. “Promise me you won’t shoot anyone until I get back,” he says.

My lips waver before they tug up at the corners. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

The King

It’s not until the door to Serenity’s room clicks shut that I let the façade slip. I run a hand over my mouth and jaw, feeling my age even if I don’t look it. If my guards notice, they don’t say anything. Not if they want to continue getting their cushy paychecks.

She’s dying. The phrase repeats over and over in my head. That’s what the doctors here seem to think. They aren’t the only ones to think this, either. The royal physician had also pulled me aside, shook his head, and murmured his fears. Nothing official—it was a concern, not a diagnosis.

But several of the world’s best doctors sharing the same fears? I’d be a damn fool not to take their words seriously.

I grapple with emotions I’ve never fully experienced before. I hadn’t realized the depth of them—hadn’t realized I even could feel this way about someone.

I’d wanted Serenity’s affection, her fire, even her love—I just hadn’t realized I’d give anything back in the process.

I rub the skin over my heart. The thought of losing her after I’ve only just gotten her makes it twinge.

Marco meets me at the end of the hall. “Your Majesty,” he says in Basque, as he often does when he wants privacy, “how’s the queen doing?”

“Fine.”

Marco peers at me. We’ve known each other—trusted each other—since we were kids. The man can read me like a book.

“You talked to the doctor then?” Marco guesses.

Of course Marco would piece it together. I nod.

“And?”

I rub my eyes. “Doctor said the cancer had spread. The Sleeper reversed the damage, but …” I take a deep breath. My hands tremble slightly, “we don’t have the knowledge to stop the mutated cells from continuing to replicate.” Which means the cancer is still, at this moment, producing more malignant tissue inside Serenity.

The Sleeper can fend it off so long as it doesn’t move to her brain. But it inevitably will, and as soon as it does, it was game over. Not even the Sleeper has the ability to replicate the intricacies of the mind.

“So she’s … ?”

“Yes, I believe so,” I say, before Marco can finish his thought. We’d bought Serenity time, but not much.

“Have you considered keeping our queen in the Sleeper until a cure’s been discovered?”

I hiss in a breath. That’s months—maybe even years—away.

My gaze snaps to him. “Of course I have. That’s a last resort.”