Later I learned that King Lazuli had detonated several nuclear bombs high above the WUN’s territories. The explosions had released EMP pulses that took out all electronics that weren’t heavily shielded from them.

Most electricity. Many cars. Virtually all mobile devices. Nearly every computer. All snuffed out. Only the bunker and a few other heavily fortified locations—most belowground—survived the EMP pulse unscathed.

The rest of the WUN got set back decades that day.

Bright rays of sunlight wake me. I wince at the sight of them and rub my eyes. My head pounds once, then a few seconds later it pounds again, and again. A horrible headache blossoms, worsening with each passing second. All I want is to fall back asleep, but the churning pain in my stomach has me throwing off my covers and running for the bathroom.

I lift the lid of the toilet and vomit. My stomach spasms while I bend over, letting me know it’s only just warming up. I spend the next thirty minutes huddled around the porcelain bowl, retching until there is nothing left in my stomach. I flush it all down, pretending that last night’s wine is responsible for the crimson tint of the water.

I feel weak, and my head is screaming at me. I might as well have drunk poison last night; it would have the same effect on me. I push myself to my feet and lean over the sink to catch my breath. I wonder briefly if the king also feels this way.

My skin heats at the thought of him. Last night I got to know him too well. We shared secrets, drank wine, kissed.

Oh God, I’m going to see him soon.

And that’s when I notice it. The strange silence of my suite. Surely my father would’ve poked his head in by now. I haven’t seen him since I left last night.

I pad back into my room and take another look out my window. It’s late morning, but that can’t be right, not unless …

A sick feeling that has nothing to do with my hangover washes over me. Did I sleep through the negotiations?

I cross the room and fling open my door. In the common area a lone WUN soldier waits.

He sees my face. “The king requested that the remainder of the negotiations be done without your attendance,” he explains.

“What? Why would he do that?” I ask, furrowing my brows. My worry is quickly morphing into a more familiar emotion. Anger.

The guard shrugs. “You’re probably doing your job a little too well.”

I give the soldier a sharp look, and he holds up his hands.

“All I’m saying is that the king probably wants to make sure he’s still in control of the situation. Having you there might affect his decisions.”