Unlike his response to my father, I can see the king’s genuine interest in me. His eyes look lit from behind. “Ambassador Freeman, I presume that this is your daughter, Serenity Freeman?” the king asks.

Next to me my father’s body goes rigid, and I know he senses the king’s interest in me. “She is,” my father says.

The king gives me a slow, sly grin and grabs my hand. I fight the overwhelming impulse to yank it free, cock my fist, and smash it into his face. Instead I bare my teeth as the cameras go off. I know it looks more like a snarl than a smile, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.

King Lazuli brings my hand up to his lips, and I close my eyes to block out the sight of his mouth against my skin. I only open them once he pulls my hand away from his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Serenity.”

He means it. Heaven help me, I’ve caught the attention of the king.

“King Lazuli,” I choke out. I can feel tears burning my eyes, blurring my vision. I can’t cry, not on television.

“Montes,” he corrects me quietly. His eyes flick to my father’s. “I believe the negotiations in the upcoming days will go quite well. I have a feeling for these things.” The king is still holding my hand, and I feel him squeeze it.

None of this gets past my father, who nods once, his mouth a grim line.

The king’s eyes move to mine and drink me in before returning to my father. “Mind if I whisk your daughter away for a dance?” the king asks.

My eyes widen. No. No, no, no. I don’t know how to dance, but that’s not even the issue here. The thought of spending any more time in the king’s presence has me nauseous. I’m either going to get sick, or, more likely, I’m going to try to kill him.

“Not at all,” my father says, his words clipped.

“Fantastic.” The king flashes him a smile, and his attention returns to me. He raises an eyebrow. “Shall we?” he asks, as though I’ve already agreed to it.

“Only if you ask nicely.” The words are out before I can attempt to censor myself. I shut my mouth before I can say more.

Those around us fall quiet. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the camera crew, my guards, and the king’s retinue shifting nervously, their eyes darting between us. I don’t know what reaction they’re waiting for, but it’s not this.

The king cocks his head, a small smile growing across his face. He raises an eyebrow. “Would you like to dance with me, Serenity?”

“I’d love to.” I bite the words out because I have to say them.

Once I accept, the budding tension releases.

“So would I,” he says, and again I can see he’s being genuine. He gives the hand he’s still holding a tug, and I’m gently whisked away.

I can tell everyone there is already aware of us—or him, more precisely, though I can feel curious eyes on me. As soon as we walk onto the dance floor, the king tugs me close. Too close. I can see the rough skin of his jaw, the gentle wave of his hair, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

His hand presses into the small of my back, and we begin to move. After glancing at other couples, I move my free hand to his shoulder like the other women do. The footwork, however, completely confuses me.

“I don’t know how to dance,” I say.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m leading,” the king responds, his expression amused. He glances down at my chest. “Beautiful necklace,” he says, though I know it’s just an excuse to stare at my chest.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Mmm,” he says, and that’s the end of that.

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you’re not.” I can’t get my mouth to shut up. Not right now when I’m caught in the arms of my mother’s killer. “She died when your army dropped a bomb near our home.”

Now I’ve caught his attention. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look angry. More like I intrigue him.

“It was the same day that I received the scar on my face,” I continue.

The king’s gaze moves to my scar. “It seems I’ve caused you a lot of pain. I’m sorry for that.”

I smile sardonically. “Save your lies for someone who will believe them.”

The king’s grip on my hand tightens. I’m in dangerous waters. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“A man who was truly sorry would never have dropped the bomb to begin with.” My breath catches as soon as the words leave my mouth. Have I gone too far?

The king scrutinizes me, and then ever so slowly, a smile appears. “I could have you killed for what you’ve said to me.”

Fear grips my heart, but I call his bluff. “You won’t.”

He spins me. “Oh, and why is that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I amuse you.” It’s hard to admit that all I’m good for here is his entertainment.

His gaze drinks me in, and he presses me closer to him. “You do. Keep it up and the WUN might not face total annihilation.”

I raise my eyebrows. “The truth suits you well.” Even if it is psychotic. But I’d prefer hearing the ugly truth than a pretty lie.

My dress swishes around me as we twirl. It’s not lost on me that that’s what I am right now—a pretty lie, a soldier disguised as a lady.

“You suit me well,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me. It sickens me that he seems to approve of what he sees.

My fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulder. “Sorry, but I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“There’s always time for firsts,” he responds.

I’d gut him before that ever happened. I thin my eyes as I study him. “And why would I do that? I’ve considered you my enemy all my life.”

The king smiles at me, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I don’t really care about your personal problems.” He’s clearly warmed up to telling the truth.

“I can’t imagine why you’ve been single this whole time,” I say sarcastically. The song we’re dancing to ends and a new one starts up.

His lips quirk. “Why get married when there are so many beautiful women who already want to be with me?”

I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. “Maybe you should go back to lying.”