As if the king hasn’t already. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce what my role here was. I’m just surprised that it’s actually been working so far.

The general removes the note from the screen and returns to his seat a short distance away. “From now on, control yourself during negotiations,” he says gruffly.

I work my jaw, but nod.

Behind me, I hear a distant knock on the door. My dad and I glance at each other.

“I’ll get it,” I say.

I push out of my chair and leave my father’s room, making sure to close the door behind me. I pass through the apartment’s common area and open the front door.

Marco stands on the other side. “The king requests your presence at dinner,” he says, giving me a sullen look. The feeling’s mutual.

“Request denied,” I say, closing the door.

Marco’s foot shoots out and catches the door before it can latch shut. “You can’t deny the king’s request.”

“Well, I am.” I give Marco’s foot a good kick. He yelps and pulls it back, and I slam the door shut.

“What was that about?” my dad asks when I return to the room.

“The king requested my presence at dinner.”

“And?” my father asks.

There’s loud knocking on the other side of the suite door.

“I politely declined.”

My father raises an eyebrow while the representatives watch from the other side of the screen. “Are you going to answer the door?” he asks.

“No.”

My father lets a small smile slip out, just enough to tell me that I’m humoring him.

The general clears his throat. “You should go to dinner with him.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“That’s not a good enough reason, Serenity,” the general says.

I lean in close to the screen. “You want me to use my womanly wiles to secure a favorable peace agreement? That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I say. “Let me do my job.” The truth is that I’m not trying to play hard to get—I don’t know the first thing about attraction. I simply can’t stand the thought of being close to the king right now.

The following morning I’m back in the conference room, sitting across from my father while we wait for the king.

The king pushes open the conference room doors. He holds onto two documents; one he drops in front of my father, the other he drops in front of me.

He leans in next to my ear. “I expect to see you in my room, tonight,” he whispers.

I stiffen, watching him as he takes a seat next to me. His leg brushes against mine, and I flinch from the contact. Across from me my father’s eyes move between the two of us.