“If you agree,” Tito continues, “we will release you immediately to the king.”

This is happening.

Oh, God, it’s really happening.

I nod. The weight of my task settles on my shoulders.

“I agree to your terms.”

I stand in the middle of the Western city’s large central square, my hands still bound behind my back.

Still a queen held for ransom.

On all four corners, soldiers stand at the ready, loosely holding semi-automatic rifles in their arms. I can tell by the deadness in their eyes that these men have killed many people. I can also tell many people have died right where I stand by the brown bloodstains that stain the concrete at my feet.

The rendezvous area doubles as an executioner’s square.

Around us, the citizens of this place watch impassively. I bet most of them had to cultivate that bored look, lest their trigger-happy leaders find fault in whatever real expression they wish to wear.

A single camera focuses on me and the representatives who sit at my back. Ahead of me, a large screen has been erected, much like the ones that were mounted at the speech I gave. Right now the screen is blank, save for an emblem of some sort that’s projected onto it. I’m guessing it’s the flag of the West. It looks nothing like the American flag I grew up with.

We all wait. The wind stirs my hair, the square eerily silent.

I don’t understand any of this, the presentation of my handoff, the strategy of it all, and what role I play. For all I know, this is actually an elaborate execution. The stains on the ground seem to suggest that.

The screen flickers to life. A moment later, I see the king’s face stretched across it.

I have to lock my knees to stay upright.

Alive. I hadn’t fully believed it until now.

His jaw tightens, his dark eyes unreadable.

Now I really have no idea what’s going on.

Behind me, one of the representatives begins to speak.

“The thirteen representatives of the West do hereby release Her Majesty, Serenity Freeman Lazuli, to the Eastern Empire. We guarantee the queen safe passage home.”

It’s the king’s turn to speak.

Montes’s vein begins to throb. “I, Montes Lazuli, King of the East, do hereby declare before gods and men that in exchange for Her Majesty Serenity Lazuli’s safe return to the East, the territory known as Australia will be ceded to the representatives of the West.”

Those words are strange, foreign things that should not be strung together in the same sentence.

An entire landmass in return for me.

I can’t catch my breath.

An entire landmass. And it’s now under the care of the creatures at my back.

I look over my shoulder, just to catch a glimpse of the representatives. Most of them wear grim smiles.

Just as I’ve played the representatives to keep up appearances, they’ve played me and the king.

Love is a weakness the king has discovered in himself. A weakness the representatives have exploited.

I face forward again and find Montes staring at me. I can feel unbidden tears welling in my eyes.

Now I’ve had two men in my life choose me over the welfare of a nation. First my father, and now my husband.

Never again will I underestimate this man’s devotion. He will ruin countries for me.

Above us, a jet of sorts enters the airspace.

My hair whips about my face as it lowers itself to the ground ahead of me.

“As a sign of good faith, we have allowed one of your aircraft into our city,” one of the representatives says.

Montes and I still stare at each other when Collins approaches me and begins to unlock my cuffs. “Stay safe, Serenity,” he says quietly. “And be careful.”

I don’t acknowledge his words. It would probably be bad for him if I did.

I’m marched onto the aircraft. At the last minute I turn around and face the representatives. I catch Ronaldo’s eye, and he nods to me.

The West is ruled by thirteen devils, the East, two.

And I am the worst one of them all.

Chapter 44

The King

It takes nearly fifteen hours for the aircraft carrying Serenity to return to the East. This time, I wait for my queen just off to the side of the airstrip.

I have this unreasonable fear that something will be wrong. That my pilot is a traitor. That as soon as the video call ended, the representatives shot her in the back. That the West will ambush the aircraft before it lands.

My worries breed more worries, extrapolating into elaborate scenarios that I know cannot occur, but my heart won’t be reasoned with.

Not until I watch her plane touch down.

My pulse gallops.

The aircraft rolls to a stop a short distance away from me and the engines die down. Each minute I wait is an eternity. I managed to stay away from Serenity for over a century, yet I now find I can barely stand the time we’re apart.

Finally the engine quiets. The staircase lowers.

A moment later, Serenity stands on the threshold. Her eyes find mine almost immediately. I know what she’s thinking, what they’re all thinking.

How could he?

How could I indeed? Australia is a territory I’ve ruled for a 113 years. A good territory.

A territory I’ll get back. But I will do it with my queen at my side.

A landmass is not nearly so fragile as a human life. It’ll be there tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

I step away from the soldiers gathered around me, and they all give me plenty of space. This greeting is personal.