I didn't know if I should even be preparing for the debate. We had the tea party first, but I was more worried about what I was going to do when I had to directly comment on politics to the country. I knew some of the topics other Elites were going with; They chose things like community gardens, the ethics of zoos, old-world history in schools, all simple and safe topics. The most controversial was Anouk, who was going to debate the gold standard and why Illea should transition away from it.

The debate was the last 'trial' for the Elites, and the end of the selection would be soon after. Tabloids speculated about why there was still seven girls instead of the final six, and of course they talked about me, but I tried to stay away from the gossip magazines. My maids were able to get me the local and national newspapers, even though that wasn't something we were supposed to read while we were here, and I was still the main topic.

It felt weird to read my own name in a serious publication. There was a hot divide between those who called for my disqualifications and others who vehemently wanted me as queen. Those felt worse than the articles that called me a traitor for disrespecting the royal family. Because I was hiding away in the castle the entire time, these real-world discussions about me felt surreal. In public polls, I was consistently number one, though Albany blamed it on the poor and working castes that were inflating the votes. I didn't point out that their opinions mattered too.

Ross and I hadn't spoken since the Convicting two days ago. Every time I saw him, I readied myself for the conversation about sending me home. I knew I should just go talk to him instead of waiting anxiously, but even though I was miserable I still hated the idea of leaving.

I wish I knew why. I could go and see Aristotle right now if I wanted to, but something was making me stay.

My maids wished me a goodnight and left, giving me the silence to think about my tea party invitations. Each Elite was to bring two people, but it was implied that they had to be somewhat important. This was an opportunity for me to do. . . something. It had been rattling around in my brain for days, but I had very limited choices and no one to bounce ideas off of.

I heard a knock on the door, and I jumped up to answer it immediate without questioning who it might be.

A tall, dark haired, blue eyed prince stood before me. "Hello Atlas," Ross greeted with a reserved smile, "may I come in?"

I held the door open and motioned to my bed. He sat down on the edge of it with his hands clasped awkwardly in his lap, and I walked over to join him. Already I could tell something was wrong.

"Uh, how are you?" he asked after an awkward silence, pivoting stiffly to face me.

"Ross," I sighed, skipping the pleasantries, "I'm really sorry. . . about what I said at the Convicting. It was wrong, and I didn't mean to hurt you."

He seemed taken aback, but he hid his surprise well with a sigh. "Yes," he muttered quietly, "That did sting. . ."

"I'm sorry-" I started again, but he cut me off.

"I understand, Atlas," he replied quickly, "What happened was not fair on you, and I cannot imagine what my father might have said to you after. Uh, you do not have to tell me."

For that, I was grateful.

I wanted to apologize again. I hadn't been able to sleep for the past two nights because I was so plagued with guilt, but I thought the more I said it the less genuine it would become. All I could do is watch him carefully as his eyes flit around my room. If he wasn't leaving, it meant he had more to say.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" I asked softly. I had tried to prepare myself for this conversation, but still I felt the contents of my stomach turn to water and my head spun. I wanted to get it over with so I could cry in my bed alone.

"Just uh. . ." he started, scratching the back of his head nervously. His voice trailed off and he looked down at his lap. I didn't want to say anything, but the wait was eating me up inside.

"Do you love me?" he asked suddenly, his head whipping up to look me in the eye.

The question caught me off guard, causing me to internally panic as I searched for an answer. "Wh. . ." was all I stammered out.

He grabbed my hands. "Because I love you, Atlas," he admitted sadly, "but I cannot wait for you forever. I am sorry to put you on the spot like this but. . . do you?"

I considered lying, but when I realized it would be a lie, the answer became clear to me.

His eyes were pleading, but the longer I struggled to answer, the sadder they got. I looked away when they started to get misty, unable to face him. "I'm sorry, Ross," I whispered, feeling my guilt in me like a knife.

He took a shaky breath. "Yeah," he muttered, "I was afraid of that answer. . ."

I looked back up at him. "I'm really sorry," I pressed, "I care about you so much Ross, please believe me."

He just nodded his head and bit his bottom lip. "I wasn't going to be able to do it anyway," I commented quietly, "I'm an ei-"

"Do you love him?" Ross asked, looking at me expectantly out of the corner of his eye.

I shook my head. "Who?" I asked, even though I knew what his answer would be.

He turned to look at me fully. "Do you love Alex?"

Yes.

"What?!" I scoffed, instinctively denying it, "No! Ross, are you insane?"

Shit.

All the turmoil, the sleepless nights, the longing. It wasn't just for companionship. It wasn't about the rebellion. It wasn't even about my physical attraction to him.

I was in love with Prince Alexandre.

Ross exhaled through his nose and shook his head at me. His sad grin only upset me more. "Why would you even ask that?" I demanded.

How could I have been so stupid. Of course I loved him. My heart skipped a beat whenever I saw him. I longed for him when we were apart, looking forward to the next time we would see each other. I was so willing to help him, even if I was in way over my head with policy and planning, at the cost of my own sanity, just to be with him and help ease the burdens of being a prince.

I lost sleep imagining what it would be like if we were together, exhaustion in the early hours of the morning making me unable to chase away the thoughts. I wanted to be with him.

"Ever since Halloween," he said, shrugging, "when you guys left the castle? There was something different about you. . . both of you. I guess I just did not expect-"

"Ross! He hates me!" I cried. I didn't realize there was anything left in me to break but remembering all our fights caused something to shatter within me.

He gave a breathy laugh and rolled his eyes. "He absolutely does not hate you, Atlas," Ross muttered, raising his eyebrows, and shaking his head at me.

I felt tears stinging the back of my eyes, but I wasn't crying about the loss of Ross's and my relationship. "We fight all the time!" I insisted, wanting Ross to tell me it was just a joke, "We never get along!" I was suddenly terrified to get my hopes up, knowing how much his unreciprocated love would ruin me.

"You guys are still keeping that up?" he asked seriously, "Is that not exhausting?"

"I don't understand," I blurted.

"I think you do."

I felt panic rising in my chest, realizing I wasn't ready for this kind of heartbreak – not after everything that has been happening lately. "Send me home," I begged, "If you don't want me here, then send me home!"

He observed me critically, studying my reaction. "It is not my place to comment on your relationship," he said finally, placing a hand on mine, "but I think you two should talk."

"He doesn't want to talk to me," I cried, just the thought of seeing him again making my heart ache with longing, "You have it all wrong!"

"I am sorry, Atlas," he said gently, standing up and pulling me up with him to hold both of my hands, "you will not be one of my top two. Alex is your prince, and you are his Elite."

"No. . ." I said weakly, "you're. . . wrong. . ." I knew he wasn't. I had to talk to Alex, tell him my true feelings before I left this place forever.

Ross reached over to wipe away a tear that had rolled down my cheek. "We do not get to choose who we fall in love with," he whispered sadly. I knew he wasn't just talking about me, and I remembered that he was dealing with the same feelings I was. I hated that I was the one who made him experience this, wishing I had come to my senses earlier, so he hadn't grown so attached.

I threw my arms around him. "I'm sorry, Ross," I sobbed into his shoulder, upset at myself just as much as I was saddened for him, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want this; I didn't want to hurt you."

He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a long time. It wasn't a loving hug, it felt more like a goodbye as we sought comfort from each other one last time. "You were not trying to," he consoled, "I understand. You do not need to apologize anymore."

I stepped back, wiping my eyes hastily. "I was supposed to be the mature one," I half joked, trying to give him a smile, "but I think you've grown past me in that respect."

"This is the Selection," he continued, the hurt in his voice lessening as he began to accept our breakup, "There was going to be heartbreak. I just did not expect it to come from the other side."

"I really enjoyed the time we spent together," I assured him, desperate for him to know I hadn't just been playing him the entire time.

"Thank you," he replied, sliding his hand down the side of my arm and grasping my hand, "For everything. You are special, and I learned a lot from you. I do not regret any of it."

"Thanks for not sending me home in the first elimination," I said earnestly, "Thanks for seeing value in me when I didn't myself."

He broke into a smile. "You have grown a lot since you arrived here," he replied, "I am glad I could be a part of that."

I stood on my toes to hug him again. "Goodbye, Prince Ross," I whispered over his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed the back of my hand. "Goodbye, Lady Atlas," he replied, looking at me for one more moment before turning to leave. When he opened the door, he paused and twisted to look back at me, adding, "You may not be my Elite, but whatever you need, I will be here. I just cannot with good conscience send you home myself. . . not until you talk to him."

His eyes drifted away for a moment. "He is a good person, Atlas; he tries," Ross added, fixing me with a gaze that told me he believed it.

"I know," I replied, lowering my eyes to the ground. Considering the toll that kind of abuse and pressure would put on a person, Alex was impossibly strong and still kind and caring.

Ross didn't say anything else, making sure to close the door quietly as he left.

I was rooted to the spot, my mind reeling. I really did love Alexandre, and I hadn't even noticed. I wanted to not love him so badly that I had been lying to myself for so long. Our fights played in my mind as I tried to convince myself that it wasn't true, but they were quickly chased out by our other memories. I could still remember what it felt like to have his arms around me, to kiss him, and to share secrets late at night.

I wrapped my arms around myself, but I couldn't stop my body from shivering. With the realization came unbearable pain. I didn't want to be the queen of a country, I just wanted to be his queen, but the conversation with the King was like a knife to the stomach. No matter what I did, I would not be Prince Alexandre's One. I would forever be plagued with my love for him; it was an unrequited, irreversible love that made me fall to me knees, sobbing.

"No. . ." I said faintly, struggling to breath, "No! no, no, no, no. . ."

There was nothing I could do. Every scenario ended with his rejection, or with the king's rejection, or the country's.

The country that did this to me, that let me fall so low and ruined my life before it had even begun. I could be here as a three and this would have been so easy, if only the King's laws hadn't abandoned me like my mother and the rest of the world did.

I wasn't going to let this happen to anyone else. I was done sitting idle while people suffered and died needlessly every day. The rebellions were an exacerbation, but the mistreatment of the poor and working class was the true catalyst.

My heart hammered in my chest and my breath was ragged. I was no longer sad; there would be a time to mourn the loss of Alex, but it wasn't that time. I was impossibly angry, and right now, it is time to stand up and do what's right, no matter the cost.

I might not even get out of this alive, but if I'm going down. . .

I'm bringing this system down with me.