I don’t see the king again until the next evening. He’s been busy all day with ruling the world, and I imagine that he will be especially busy for many months—hell, many years—to come.

When he knocks on my door, I just about bound out to meet him. Sure he’s a slimy bastard, but men and women have been in and out of my room all day taking my measurements, asking questions about my personal preferences, and abusing my skin, nails, and hair in the name of beauty. There are forms of torture less painful than that.

“Someone seems happy to see me,” he says.

“You are a sadistic bastard.” I brush past him and out the door, glancing both ways just to make sure no one else is about to ambush me into picking out a color scheme for God-knows-what.

Somehow the king knows exactly what I’m referring to. I can see the laughter in his eyes. “I thought all women liked getting pampered?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who enjoys that?”

The king places a hand on my back and leans down to whisper in my ear. “You look like the kind of woman who shoots and asks questions later, and it’s a turn-on.”

My head whips back to look at King Lazuli. He’s gazing at me hungrily. “You are a twisted son of a gun.”

“Look who’s talking.”

I open my mouth to retort when the king cuts me off. “I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and pulls me down the hall.

“Where’s your little henchman, Marco?”

The king’s hand tightens on mine. “He’s around, but I’ve asked him to keep his distance.”

“So, he’s still working for you?”

“Yes.” King Montes doesn’t look at me when he says it.

I pull my hand out of his. “That’s it? He kills my father and he goes unpunished?”

“Watch your words.” Now the king turns to face me, and his eyes flash. “You and your men killed and injured some of my best men, and you got a peace treaty and a promotion out of it.”

I stop in my tracks. “A promotion?” My voice only gets quiet like this before I do terrible things. “You consider this a promotion?”

My hands clench and unclench. The king eyes them before he speaks. “From emissary of a dying nation to queen of the entire world? Of course it is.”

I pull my fist back and slam it into his face. My knuckles split as they connect with the king’s cheek. It’s the most pleasant sting I’ve ever endured.