I can feel the wary stares of the king’s men. Their animosity practically rolls off of them; I meet their gazes and give them each a slow, predatory smile. It pleases me to see the lines on their faces deepen. They’ve either seen me kill their comrades, or they’ve been warned.

It takes me a few minutes to realize that I’m causing them pain to feel better about my own. Once I do, I close my eyes and lean my head against the window and let myself nod off to sleep.

The sensation of falling wakes me up. I look out my window and see the rosy light of dawn as the jet makes its descent. When I look down at the scenery, I suppress a gasp. Small islands dot the blue expanse of ocean.

“Where are we?”

No one answers me. Big surprise.

As the aircraft descends and we draw closer to the small islands, the scenery comes into focus. It’s not quite arid, but not quite tropical either.

A larger landmass looms in the horizon. I know in my gut this is my destination. The jet passes over it and circles back. I can see a small airstrip ahead of us. And then we’re landing.

Once the aircraft coasts to a stop, I stand, ignoring the way the guards tense as they fall into form around me. The sick part of me enjoys how skittish they are.

The engine dies, and the jet’s stairway is lowered. The guards ahead of me begin to move, and I follow them out. This is the second time I’ve arrived on enemy soil. And it is still that. To everyone else, the war might’ve ended, but it never will for me. Not so long as I live with the king.

This moment reminds me of a story my dad told me a long time ago. There was once an ancient battle, fought for ten years. The Trojan War. At the close of it, the Greeks, on the edge of defeat, surrendered and left in their place a huge wooden horse—a gift to their victorious enemies, the Trojans. Little did the Trojans know that waiting inside the wooden beast were Greek soldiers.

The Trojans brought the horse into their walls and celebrated their victory long into the night. Once the Trojan citizens had all drunk themselves into a stupor and gone to bed, the Greek soldiers left the horse and slaughtered the enemy. They won the war this way.

The king has only demonstrated his excellent talent for destroying things, but scant few at rebuilding the world. And now that the war is over, he’s let the enemy into his house.

Perhaps Will is right and the king needs to be destroyed once and for all. I smile grimly. Perhaps I will be his Trojan horse.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Serenity