General Kline smiles grimly. “Good.” He glances down at the paper in front of him. “You and your father will be representing the entire WUN.”

What he means is that Canada and Central America are too splintered to send someone over. And the political infighting in South America makes them too fragmented to attempt this.

“We’ve already contacted our correspondences overseas as well as the king’s retinue,” General Kline continues.

I curl my lip at the term retinue. The king has people who wait on him hand and foot while we starve.

“They are expecting our arrival in Geneva on Wednesday.”

“So soon?” I manage to get out. That’s three days from now.

The general’s eyes move to mine, and they flash like my fear disappoints him. I can’t help it. The king is the boogey man; no weapon scares me as much as that deceptively charming face of his.

“You will be filmed,” he says, ignoring my question. “The world will be watching. This means you must tread lightly. If you do well, you’ll boost the morale of our citizens. If you or your father are killed, it will prove to the world just how vulnerable we are.”

His words make me lightheaded. I’d assumed that death was the worst outcome, but no. The worst outcome is that we never get the chance to work on a peace agreement between the two hemispheres. We’ve heard stories of the conquered lands. There’s a reason we’ve waited this long to surrender.

“Ignore your normal routine starting today. Lisa will swing by your room in an hour to get you fitted for some appropriate garments. Tomorrow you’ll be boarding the jet for Geneva. Try to get some rest before then.”

This is what I’ve been preparing to do ever since I became my father’s apprentice. Forge alliances. I’ve learned a lot of useful skills, but I’ve never had the opportunity to implement them as I do now. And now the fate of the entire western hemisphere depends on my father’s and my ability to negotiate with the enemy.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Serenity

Nine years ago I watched my mother die. That was also the day I received the scar that runs from the corner of my eye down my cheek, a permanent tear for all the souls the war has claimed.

At the time the eastern hemisphere had just fallen and the new king had set his sights on the west. In the wake of oncoming war, my father started working nonstop, leaving my mother and me to keep each other company.

That Saturday morning was just like any other. I laid under our coffee table flipping through a magazine, while my mom sat on the couch reading.

The only indication that something was about to happen was the trembling ground beneath me. I heard Mom’s mug rattle on the glass side table next to her.