“Then kill me,” I say, tugging on my wrist. I am more than ready to leave the king and his empty threats. Chances are, he will eventually kill me, but not like this.

He doesn’t let go of me. “I’ll think about it,” he finally says, and I know he’s referring to the medical relief and not having me killed.

“And all I’ll do is think about visiting you until you make your decision,” I say.

The king tugs my wrist hard enough for me to stumble into him. “Stop toying with me,” he growls against my ear, his voice low and lethal.

I pull away from him. “Unlike you, I don’t play games, Montes.”

His eyes trail down my face to my lips. “And I get what I want. Always.”

I yank my wrist out of his grip and back away from him. I can see the cold calculation in his eyes.

“There’s always time for firsts,” I say, and then I walk away.

“What were you thinking?” Unlike my father, General Kline yells when he’s angry.

Next to me, my father broods. When he returned an hour ago, he looked at me and shook his head. That’s all it took for me to break down and apologize. I wanted him to be proud of me, not disappointed.

General Kline, on the other hand, could kiss my ass.

I flash him a vicious smile and hold up my index finger, signaling him to give me a moment. Seizing a nearby pen and sheet of paper, I scrawl a note on it.

The king came to my room after that incident, we went for a walk, and he kissed me. I’ve promised to do more if he negotiates medical relief into the peace agreement.

My cheeks burn as I hold the paper up to the camera, and my father looks away.

I’ve already told my dad about my little walk in the gardens. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. Of the two of us, his is the worse task. He has to pretend to negotiate with a dictator while allowing that same man to take advantage of his daughter. At least I have some agency in the matter. He has none.

I pull the sheet away from the screen and hand it to my father, who will have to burn it later. This is the securest way to communicate.

The conference room in the bunker is quiet. I’m sure the situation doesn’t sit well with anyone in there. I feel like a harlot, trading sex for promises.

The general bends over the table and scribbles something onto a sheet of paper before approaching the screen.

Good job, Serenity. Hold him to that and leave the rest to your father for now. If you try to leverage anything else, he’s going to figure out what’s going on.