Mess hall, sleeping quarters, and to my utter delight, several training rooms. This, I belatedly realize, is what drew me out here. Amongst all the soft, painted faces, I feel hopelessly different. But this place that lacks adornment and smells like sweat, this I understand.
I run my hand over a metal dumbbell stacked against the wall, the grips worn down with use. I decide then and there that I won’t become what I detest. I’ll come here to train, and I’ll earn the guards’ respect or I won’t, but I will not lose the soldier in me.
From behind me, one of the guards now approaches. “Your Majesty, the king’s called for dinner.”
CHAPTER 9
Serenity
WHEN I MEET Montes back inside the palace, he doesn’t lead me to the dining room like I thought he might. Instead we head outside once more and cross the garden. The sun’s already set and the sky is deep blue. I feel summer in the breeze, and it stirs such intense longing in me. The last time I felt like this, I still had my mother.
As we move beyond the hedges, it becomes clear the king is leading me to another one of the buildings sitting at the far end of the grounds. It’s made of copper, marble, and most of all, glass. Hundreds of panes make up the dome alone. I’ve never seen a structure like this.
Montes holds my hand against the crook of his arm. I think he knows that if he lets go, I’ll pull away immediately. But the gesture’s strangely intimate
“Are you still angry?” he asks.
“When it comes to you, I’m always angry.”
“Mmm, you must not have recalled all your memories yet. For instance, the last time I laid between those pretty thighs of yours, you were far from angry.”
A blush spreads up my neck at the memory I do, in fact, recall. “Do you always get enjoyment being lewd?”
“My queen, that is not lewd. Lewd would be telling you how your tight little pu—”
“Montes.” My cheeks are flaming now, and I can’t tell if I’m more embarrassed by his words or the fact that I still react like this. Both he and I are aware it’s a weakness of mine.
He glances down at me, his eyes luminous as they catch the light of a nearby lamp. “That’s not lewd, Serenity. That is just what it means to be your husband. And yes, I get enjoyment from making you blush. It’s so very … unlike you.”
He squeezes my hand. And as I feel his fingers envelop mine, I’m reminded again that with him, intimacy isn’t just a handful of memories. It’s something that’ll happen again, and sooner rather than later, if the intense look in his eyes is any indication.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
He must see all my nerves, all my anxieties, but I won’t hand them to him on a platter by voicing the words.
I don’t tear my eyes from his when I say, “I’m thinking that you’d give the devil a run for his money. In fact, he’s probably worried that you’ll set your sights on his territory next.”
The corner of Monte’s mouth lifts. “A good idea, Serenity. Perhaps I could consult you on hell’s layout? I hear you’re familiar with it.”
God, I hate this man.
I turn my attention away from him, back to the structure he’s leading me towards. We enter the building, and I realize exactly what it is.
A greenhouse.
My lingering irritation evaporates as my eyes sweep across the interior. I’ve never seen so many different plants so close together. Their leaves are waxy and their colors—I didn’t realize so many different shades of green existed. But it’s not just green. Pinks and yellows, reds and oranges, whites and purples and every color in between, each plant stranger and lovelier than the last.
Without thinking I begin moving through the clusters of them, inadvertently tugging the king along with me. I can feel his gaze on my face, drinking up my reaction. I pull away from him to pet a leaf.
It’s a captive here, living in its own gilded cage.
Just like me.
Releasing it, I lift my gaze and take in the rest of the greenhouse. The glass panes are misted over, and the humidity is curling my hair. Hundreds of plants line the building. The size and beauty of this place is staggering.
After living in a gloomy, subterranean bunker for the last five years, the idea of a room filled with light and plants is almost incomprehensible.
So, naturally, the king has one of these places on his property.
“And my queen’s frowning again.”
“This is just another room with a ridiculous purpose.”
He actually looks pleased, and I can’t fathom why.
He takes my hand and leads me down an aisle. Then he begins pointing. “Papaver somniferum—the opium poppy. Extracts of the plant can be used as high grade pain relievers, amongst other things. Camellia sinensis—the dried leaves of that one make tea. Coffea arabica—the plant that’s saved you from killing everyone before eight a.m.”
“Not everyone. Just you,” I correct.
He smirks and points to another plant. “Cannabis sativa—helps with appetite, sleep, anxiety, lowers nausea. A wonder drug, really.
“Many of these plants are already being used medicinally,” he continues, “and outside of my greenhouses, they are hard to find. Many more of them are being researched and genetically modified, again for science.”
And now I understand the king’s smug expression. I assumed he didn’t care about saving the world his war had broken. I hadn’t imagined that maybe some of the laboratory testing he’d been working on was to benefit the people he’d so abused.