I swallow; my eyes sting. Our leaders always come back in body bags after visiting the king. And we can’t do anything about it. The WUN has tried to assassinate him dozens of times, but somehow he always survives. The Undying King, as some call him.

My death sentence just got bumped a little sooner. As did my father’s.

I look at my dad again, and I can see his eyes are red, his face anguished. I place a hand on his forearm and squeeze it. At least we’d be going in together. I prefer that to him going alone.

I turn back to General Kline. “I accept whatever duties are required of me.”

A muscle in my father’s forearm jerks beneath my hand. It’s the only indication that this situation is tearing him up. I’m all he has left; he’s all I have left. The thought of losing the last person in the world that loves you is terrifying. But no one in this room has the luxury of being selfish.

General Kline smiles grimly. “Good.” He glances down at the paper in front of him. “You and your father will be representing the entire WUN.”

What he means is that Canada and Central America are too splintered to send someone over. And the political infighting in South America makes them too fragmented to attempt this.

“We’ve already contacted our correspondences overseas as well as the king’s retinue,” General Kline continues.

I curl my lip at the term retinue. The king has people who wait on him hand and foot while we starve.

“They are expecting our arrival in Geneva on Wednesday.”

“So soon?” I manage to get out. That’s three days from now.

The general’s eyes move to mine, and they flash like my fear disappoints him. I can’t help it. The king is the boogey man; no weapon scares me as much as that deceptively charming face of his.

“You will be filmed,” he says, ignoring my question. “The world will be watching. This means you must tread lightly. If you do well, you’ll boost the morale of our citizens. If you or your father are killed, it will prove to the world just how vulnerable we are.”

His words make me lightheaded. I’d assumed that death was the worst outcome, but no. The worst outcome is that we never get the chance to work on a peace agreement between the two hemispheres. We’ve heard stories of the conquered lands. There’s a reason we’ve waited this long to surrender.

“Ignore your normal routine starting today. Lisa will swing by your room in an hour to get you fitted for some appropriate garments. Tomorrow you’ll be boarding the jet for Geneva. Try to get some rest before then.”

This is what I’ve been preparing to do ever since I became my father’s apprentice. Forge alliances. I’ve learned a lot of useful skills, but I’ve never had the opportunity to implement them as I do now. And now the fate of the entire western hemisphere depends on my father’s and my ability to negotiate with the enemy.

Chapter 2

Serenity

Nine years ago I watched my mother die. That was also the day I received the scar that runs from the corner of my eye down my cheek, a permanent tear for all the souls the war has claimed.

At the time the eastern hemisphere had just fallen and the new king had set his sights on the west. In the wake of oncoming war, my father started working nonstop, leaving my mother and me to keep each other company.

That Saturday morning was just like any other. I laid under our coffee table flipping through a magazine, while my mom sat on the couch reading.

The only indication that something was about to happen was the trembling ground beneath me. I heard Mom’s mug rattle on the glass side table next to her.

My mother’s gaze met mine. Even then we knew enough about the war to immediately think the worst. But never had the enemy attacked civilians on our own soil.

A whine started up, distant at first. The sound got louder.

“Serenity, get down!” My mother lunged for me.

She wasn’t fast enough.

The whine cut out, and for the briefest of moments, all was quiet. Then our front yard lit up, the windows shattered. A howling, fiery blast tore through the house, throwing my mother forward.

That was all I saw before the force of the explosion blasted the coffee table away from me and I tumbled, my body a ragdoll. Debris sliced against my skin, none so deep as the gash across my face.

Other than those cuts and what I later found out was a fractured wrist and several bruised ribs, I survived the explosion unscathed. Sheer providence kept me from further harm.

In the distance more bombs went off, the sound a whiplash to my ears. Each time they did, the ground shook violently. I whimpered at the pain in my arms and chest. But not even that could distract me from the sight ahead of me.

My mom’s eyes had always gleamed like she had some secret to share.

Now they were vacant.

There’s a knock on my door, and a moment later Lisa walks in.

“Hi sweetie,” she says. The endearment always amuses me. As though I’m some innocent flower. I’m not.

“Hey Lisa.” I can’t muster much enthusiasm. Before the war, Lisa owned a wedding dress shop, so she’s been the residential seamstress since her husband and the rest of her family moved in.

Her husband, like most of the men and women here, was an important figure when we still had a functioning government. My best guess is that he was a badass dude—the kind that can’t actually tell you their profession because of national security. I see a lot of those types around here. The bunker only has a finite amount of space, so only the most essential men and women are allowed to live here with their families.

Lisa drops the pile of material she carried in onto my bed, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the vibrant colors I see. Bright red, gold, rose petal pink. Iridescent beads catch the light.

I finger a bit of lace that pokes out amongst the pile. “Please tell me these aren’t my outfits.” They’re all beautiful, but the thought of wearing such flashy garments is horrifying.

She gives me a rueful smile. “Sorry babe, but orders are orders.”

“And what orders are those?” Surely I’d have heard about this. I thought I’d be wearing drab suits just like the rest of the men and women that meet for diplomacy talks.

“To have all eyes on you.”

My jaw slides open, and I look at her in disbelief. “Why would the WUN want that?” My father was the one they should have their eyes on. Not me.