My heart thumps painfully in my chest. It should never have been this way. My comrades turning on me, my enemies saving me. But worst of all, I should never have felt anything other than hatred for this man, the king. Definitely not this, this warmth that thaws my soul.

I stare into the king’s eyes. I am Isolde, I am Juliet, I am Guinevere.

I am every one of those idiots because I’ve fallen for the king.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The King

I will murder every last one of them. I will rip every last survivor from limb to limb, I will torture them for days for what they did to Serenity. For what they tried to do to me.

I can feel small pricks of pain behind my eyes, but I hold back my tears. She’s safe now.

I thread my hands behind my head and pace outside Serenity’s hospital room, where she’s been resting since she returned.

Henry, the lead investigator of my secret service unit, approaches me. “Your Majesty, the prisoner who was found with Serenity in the interrogation room—we have reason to believe that he’s the leader of the western division of the Resistance.”

This is news. What is the leader of the western division doing here? And why was he the one in Serenity’s room?

Cold dread settles in my stomach, but I keep my resolve steely.

“We’re trying to figure that out at the moment.” Henry’s lips thin. “That’s not all, Your Majesty.”

I wait for him to go on.

“The prisoner is William Kline, the son of the former general of the WUN, Chris Kline.”

He knew her. He knew her. He knew her.

And he betrayed her. He betrayed me. Hell, he probably betrayed his father.

There’s nothing I hate worse than a traitor.

I watch him through the one-way mirrors as he’s being tortured for information. Funny how quickly he’s gone from being interrogator to interrogated.

Usually I stay far away from these sessions. They’re a little too gruesome for my taste. But while Serenity is still sleeping off her latest surgery to undo the mediocre medical attention her bullet wound received, I’m savoring justice in its most savage form.

“Why did you kidnap Queen Serenity Lazuli?” the interrogator asks.

The general’s son is silent.

“Still not going to talk?” the interrogator asks.

When William, the general’s son, doesn’t reply, the interrogator grabs the metal pliers and moves it over to an untouched finger. The table he sits in front of is already slick with blood.

“Stop!” William shrieks as another fingernail goes. This isn’t even the worst part yet.

“Do you want to talk?” the interrogator asks calmly. Civilly.

William is sobbing, and sweat drips down his pale face.

“Perhaps I should move to chopping off fingers … or other things,” the interrogator says.

The Resistance leader’s jaw clenches.