Marco’s eyes move from my father to me—or rather, my plunging neckline. “Miss Freeman.” He nods. “How do you like your rooms?”

They are a constant reminder of your king’s corruption, I think. Instead I say, “They leave little to be desired. Your king is very generous to host us here,” I finish off the sentence with a brittle smile. I don’t think I can make a long-term career of diplomacy; those words felt like poison coming out.

In contrast to my own disquiet, I can practically feel my father’s approval across from me.

“Yes, he is,” Marco agrees. “And speaking of the king, he’s waiting to meet you in the grand ballroom.”

My heart slams in my chest. The king who can’t be killed. The king who’s caused the death of millions. He’s more legend than man. And he’s one of the few things that scare me. Because I can’t understand how someone can be that evil.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” I ask, smiling amicably, as though I’m not screaming inside.

Marco assesses me. “What indeed?” he says. I don’t like the way he looks at me, as though he’s trying to understand my motives.

Marco leads us out of the room. Luckily no cameras wait for us here. Tomorrow I won’t be so lucky; the estate will be crawling with them.

As soon as we’re in the hallway, I thread my arm through my father’s, and our guards fan out around us.

“You clean up well,” I say to my father. He’s wearing a suit, and it brings out his fine features—high brows, sharp cheekbones, tan skin, wavy hair the color of dusty wheat, bright blue eyes. The fatigues I’m so used to seeing him in wash out his features and make him look his age.

He glances at me. “Thanks—that’ll be the only compliment I’ll get all evening standing next to you.” His eyes light with humor, and I flash him a genuine smile.

“Tell me that again when you’re fighting off all the cougars later tonight.”

My father chuckles, and for a moment I can pretend that we are not in our enemy’s house.

The faint sound of music, conversation, and tinkling glass drifts from down the hall behind two large, closed doors. In front of them stand two of the king’s guards. As soon as we approach the doors, the guards open them, and we enter the ballroom.

I blink, just to make sure I’m not seeing things. The room spread out below me is full of warm light, crystal chandeliers, and walls of mirrors. Everything else is covered in gold. People twirl on the dance floor while others talk off to the sides. Here it’s as though the war never happened. Here violence, dirt, and death don’t exist.