Once again my opinion of the king subtly shifts. Worries plague him. Another weakness. Another sign that he has a conscience.

He catches me looking, and the edge of his mouth tips up. He reaches for my hand.

We are the epitome of dysfunction. Our marriage won’t work—it shouldn’t. We are miserable human beings. And yet, when he laces his fingers through mine and I feel the thrill of contact, that tiny flame of hope I carry around flares up.

Anything’s possible. From darkness to light, war to peace—hate to love.

The king brings the back of my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. The entire time he stares at me like we’re sharing a secret. We are. We’re two monsters that might not be quite so monstrous after all.

Anything’s possible.

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Serenity

Before we leave Geneva, there’s something of great importance to me here. A visit I’ve been anticipating and dreading. I come to find out it’s the reason the king stopped here instead of his Mediterranean palace.

I enter the morgue alone—well, as alone as I’m allowed outside the king’s estate. Today that means two guards flank me. Montes has wisely made himself scarce.

My eyes fall on the body in the middle of the room. He’s already laid out, and suddenly, he’s the only thing I have eyes for.

In four quick strides I cross the room. The medical examiner stands off to the side, and my guards fall away. It’s just me and him.

My father.

Before I can think twice about it, I take his hand. It’s cold and the texture is somehow all wrong. He’s been gone long enough that, even embalmed, there is no pretending that he’s a living thing. Still, I can’t seem to let him go.

My gaze travels to his face. The blood has been washed from him, and the bullet hole in his forehead’s been sealed up.

A tear drips onto the metal table beside my father’s head. “I was supposed to die with you,” I whisper to him.

The loneliness of my situation slams into me. How am I supposed to live if the one person who mattered most to me is now dead?

Killed by my husband’s people. How could I forgive Montes for this? What kind of weak woman would that make me?

“I’m so sorry, Dad.” For a moment I wait for him to respond. I know what he would say: Don’t be. I’m so proud of you.

A memory from two years ago floats in. I’d been so angry at the king, angry at all the senseless death.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you know why your mother and I named you ‘Serenity’?” he’d asked me.