“No? Then perhaps we’ll just have to drag your father into it.”

William’s face pales further. “I—I’ll talk.” I can hear the defeat in his voice.

What the boy doesn’t know is that my men are already on their way to execute his father. It’s long overdue.

Serenity

When I wake up, my golden hair fanned out around me, I’m alone in the hospital room. The monitors beep and whirr.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed, the pads of my feet touching the cool linoleum. Not surprisingly, I feel like I’ve been rolled over by a tank. It doesn’t matter. I can’t take it in here. Not one second more. I’ve been either injured or recovering for the last few weeks in the hospital; I’m done being sick.

I rip out the IV drip taped to my wrist, only wincing slightly when I feel the momentary pain. A monitor next to me goes off.

Out of curiosity I lift up my hospital gown to look at my wound. Unlike the last time I was here, my body shows evidence of surgery. Clean bandages wrap around my torso. Relief floods me at the sight of it; it means that I haven’t lost days or weeks.

I pull the cloth gown back down and exit my room.

In the hallway a swarm of guards keep watch outside my door. I guess the king didn’t want to chance an attack again. As soon as they see me leaving, they try to coerce me back into the room.

“My queen, you need to—”

“The first person who tells me to rest will find themselves castrated,” I say, piercing each guard with a glare.

The guards go silent, and I smile. “I want to see the king,” I say.

“But—”

I narrow my eyes on the guard who spoke and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. “Take me to him—that’s an order.”

I finger my spare clothes as I follow the guards through the secret service building. My arms shake; they’ve been doing that since I was told the king was extracting information from Will.

The guards glance nervously at one another. “You have my word you will not get in trouble for this,” I promise.

I can tell which interrogation room Montes is in by the cluster of officials standing around it.

A couple of them see me and try to cut me off. “My queen, you can’t—”

“I am fucking tired of hearing I can’t do things today,” I say. “Let me through or I will force my way through.”

One tries to grab me. My fist snaps out, but he blocks it with his forearm. Another closes in, pressing a finger to his ear and speaking in low tones. I know what this is—containment.

“Montes!” I shriek.