The king’s gaze moves to my scar. “It seems I’ve caused you a lot of pain. I’m sorry for that.”

I smile sardonically. “Save your lies for someone who will believe them.”

The king’s grip on my hand tightens. I’m in dangerous waters. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“A man who was truly sorry would never have dropped the bomb to begin with.” My breath catches as soon as the words leave my mouth. Have I gone too far?

The king scrutinizes me, and then ever so slowly, a smile appears. “I could have you killed for what you’ve said to me.”

Fear grips my heart, but I call his bluff. “You won’t.”

He spins me. “Oh, and why is that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I amuse you.” It’s hard to admit that all I’m good for here is his entertainment.

His gaze drinks me in, and he presses me closer to him. “You do. Keep it up and the WUN might not face total annihilation.”

I raise my eyebrows. “The truth suits you well.” Even if it is psychotic. But I’d prefer hearing the ugly truth than a pretty lie.

My dress swishes around me as we twirl. It’s not lost on me that that’s what I am right now—a pretty lie, a soldier disguised as a lady.

“You suit me well,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me. It sickens me that he seems to approve of what he sees.

My fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulder. “Sorry, but I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“There’s always time for firsts,” he responds.

I’d gut him before that ever happened. I thin my eyes as I study him. “And why would I do that? I’ve considered you my enemy all my life.”

The king smiles at me, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I don’t really care about your personal problems.” He’s clearly warmed up to telling the truth.

“I can’t imagine why you’ve been single this whole time,” I say sarcastically. The song we’re dancing to ends and a new one starts up.

His lips quirk. “Why get married when there are so many beautiful women who already want to be with me?”

I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. “Maybe you should go back to lying.”

“Hmm,” he muses, eyeing me, “the lady doesn’t mind talking about destruction and death, but throw in a little sex and she gets demure.”

My face flushes before I can help it, and the king chuckles. “My, my, have you never … ?” He gazes at me curiously. “How old are you?”

Even through my burning cheeks I give him a nasty look. “Nineteen.”

“Nineteen? And you’ve never been romantic? Did you just get out of an ugly phase?”