I turned the bracelet around in my hand, following the flow of the metal with my thumb as Luna worked on my hair. We had pulled out Ross's gift and put it on a display stand, so it was waiting for me once I was finished with everything else. I knew I couldn't wear the bracelet, but I thought about keeping it on me, so I could have the imaginary support.

"Are you wearing that one too?" Luna asked, looking over my shoulder with a chunk of hair and a curling iron in her hands. They were so talented; my hair was always perfect, and this time wasn't an exception. It already felt odd to wear such fine jewelry to a ceremony convicting criminals to jail or whipping, so my maids had decided on a loose bun that kept the hair out of my face and away from my neck. Still, Luna's casual bun still looked immaculate and skilled.

Ross's gift had changed our outfit plans, but the dress was grey, so we were able to just add green accents to match it beautifully with the jewelry. We wanted me to look sophisticated, which meant removing a lot of the traditional female elements and fitting in inspiration from the army. It was short sleeved Poplin fabric dress, normally a fabric reserved for class A, non-combat uniforms, and it had a small, decorative open collar that exposed my upper chest to frame Ross's necklace. Double breasted buttons formed lines down the bodice and ended in a belt, where the skirt pleating started and ran all the way down to my ankles. We went as subtle as we could, so it was still a ballgown with an hourglass shape and fit me snuggly.

"No," I sighed, "I'll just keep it on me. . . hey, do you think you could add a chain to this so it would fit as an anklet?"

I handed it to her, and she examined it closely. "Atlas, this is gorgeous," she muttered, "where did you get this?"

"It was a gift," I said simply.

"From Prince Ross?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as she called, "Gemma, could you do something for me?"

"Um, no," I answered quietly, "from a friend."

Luna handed her the bracelet and reminded her that there were extra chains in the third drawer down in the storage to the right of the closet door. How they kept track of everything in there, I'll never know.

"Do you know what Chrysocolla represents?" I asked casually as Hannah came over to continue my makeup. I wanted to know if it meant

Hannah's brow furrowed in concentration. "Chrysocolla? That's a copper rock," she commented, "I think it's just general wisdom and connection and stuff like that. All the stones have pretty similar meanings."

"It stands for gentle power," Luna added, "I only know what it is because of that. Isn't that pretty? I like that phrase a lot."

"I guess if you like oxymorons," Hannah mumbled.

"Are these Chrysocolla? Who would use that in jewelry?" Gemma asked, studying it closer before returning the bracelet to me with a chain extension attached to it. I didn't answer her, hoping it was rhetorical.

I folded over in my chair, making Luna click her tongue as I pulled a section of my hair out of her grasp. Closing the hook of the new anklet, I shook my foot once to make sure it wouldn't fall off before sitting back up. I felt grounded, even with just the slight weight that it carried, and I worked on calming my nerves.

The Convicting was a ceremony that Elites had to go through where they publicly, and in front of the royal family, convicted petty criminals to jail instead of a whipping. It was supposed to be easy, but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that told me it would be anything but.

The final touch to my outfit was Ross's gifts, which Hannah ceremoniously placed the necklace gently on my chest and Gemma and Luna both took an earring each. They cooed about how it looked, but it didn't carry the same feeling as the anklet, and I couldn't share in their excitement. I felt ungrateful and guilty that such a beautiful gift didn't stir my feelings like the bracelet did.

-------------

The Convicting took place in the throne room. Chairs had been set up at the bottom step in front of where the king and queen would sit. The princes would be off to the side so they could observe our convicting fully. There were only seven of us now; looking at the chairs as I entered the room, I realized that I was the one keeping us from reaching the final six. Six chairs were aligned with the throne, and I went to take a seat in the odd one that stuck out on the end, already knowing it was mine.

We had all naturally fallen into categories for each prince as they narrowed down their top two. Prince Christoph had Fox and Corrin, Alexandre had Albany and Valeera, and Ross's Elites were Anouk, Saffron, and me. The feeling that I was out of place weighted on me heavily, and my nerves were replaced with a listless sadness.

I worried that today would determine the final girl that went home. I may be much closer to leaving than I had thought, and the realization hit me like a train. I really didn't want to leave; I wasn't prepared.

It was transparent that I was meant to go last, and as the girls were all given their convicts, they sent them away for a few years of jail time each. They came off as merciful, saving these men from a barbaric punishment, but even they seemed uncomfortable.

It was finally my turn, so I sat up straighter and took a couple of deep breaths as two guards brought in my convict. He didn't look like a bad person, but he was crying as they brought him in front of me and he immediately dropped to his knees when they let go of his arms.

"For petty theft, assault of an officer, and evasion of the law," a guard read out, "Zachary Marsh, 7, will be sentenced to 30 lashes, or life in prison." Zachary dropped his head into his hands, crying.

I whipped around in my seat, looking directly at the king in his throne. He was looking down his nose at the convict, but when he saw me turn, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and smirked. This had been his plan from the beginning. My choice would show the public that I was either merciless or disobedient, and both of my choices were unbelievably cruel.

I turned my eyes to the other Elites, but they offered no support anymore. I was just in their way now, and they were ready for me to leave. Most of them didn't even turn their heads, but they had the respect enough to look uncomfortable.

I spun back around in my chair, fixing my eyes on the princes who sat on the left wall. Prince Christoph wore the same indifferent expression on his face, not fazed by the look of shock and horror I wore. Ross had the audacity to look away from me.

Looking to Alexandre as a last hope, he just gave me a helpless look, shaking his head. His face was a mixture of guilt and sadness, unabashedly upset even though he had been angry with me last night, and to add to that, he was on television. At the very least, he didn't look away from me.

I knew he couldn't do anything about it. If he had any options, he would have done something already, I was sure of it. That was the kind of person he was now, even if his words were still harsh.

Alexandre was protecting himself, and I recognized that. He had to, but that didn't mean I still didn't hate him for it. I was alone.

"My lady," the man in front of me cried weakly, pulling me out of my thoughts, "I'll take the lashings. Please. I was only stealing clothing for my child. Winter is close and he needed warm clothes."

"You attacked a police officer and ran from the law," the police chief said sharply.

"I can't go to jail. I need to get back to my family," he pleaded, opening his empty hands that were shackled together, "They'll die without me." I gripped the arms of my seat hard, my knuckles turning white.

"Shut up!" one of the guards shouted, hitting Zackary in the temple with the butt of his rifle.

I jumped up, unsure of what to do but knowing I needed to do something. Again, I was faced with a terrible choice, one that didn't have a good outcome either way. I knew what he meant about the winters; it seemed like only yesterday I was recounting the tales to Alexandre in his bed. I longed to be back in his room, out of this frigid, desolate hall.

Jail would be more merciful, and I knew too well what a whipping feels like. 30 lashes were torture, and it could cripple him if the officer carrying it out wasn't careful enough, but he was asking for it. I could just convict him to the lashes and stay here with Ross. I still had a chance to win if I just made the choice without being defiant. Zackary was giving me an out.

But if I hadn't been selected four months ago, I would be in his same position, stealing clothes for Ari and getting what I could for the children who were born eights. I also knew the punishment didn't fit the crime, and this man's life had become a pawn in the king's game to get rid of me. There would be no justice, and he would be forgotten.

I was once victim of this same unfair judicial system.

I knew the system well.

I knew what it would take.

The throne room was silent, and even Zackary had stopped crying and was waiting for my decision. My voice rang out and echoed off the walls in this apathetic, empty room. "What is the value of his crimes?" I demanded, looking over at the police chief with a new fire lit in me.

He seemed taken aback, and the force in my voice made him seem small and weak as he told me, "I'm not sure what my lady-"

"Tell me," I growled, my hands clenching into fists, "the monetary value of his crimes."

The police chief looked over at the king, wondering what to do.

"Answer me!" I snapped, making him look back at me, "I know the law. I know it better than most people here." I turned to fix my gaze on the princes. "Every crime holds a monetary value. It's the reason why government officials can bet on illegal cage matches between eights without repercussions. The law only exists if you're poor. Give me the amount."

"Four thousand, five hundred crowns. . . my lady," the police chief answered finally, but I didn't look back at him.

I felt my heart sink. I didn't have that kind of money, and they wouldn't have let me transfer my allowance over to him anyway. I waited for Alexandre or Ross to do or say something, giving them one more breath before making my decision. They did nothing.

Silver, diamonds, and emeralds wouldn't pay for the full amount, but 24 karat white gold would easily make up for the rest.

I felt no regret as I turned back to face Zackary and reached for the clasp at the back of my neck. Holding it unceremoniously in my fist, I took out the earrings next.

Glancing at Prince Alexandre briefly, I knelt, pushed my skirts away, and unclasped the bracelet from my ankle. I didn't look for his reaction; I didn't care.

I walked up to Zachary, motioning with my head for him to rise to his feet. Dangling Ross's necklace and Alex's bracelet out in front of me, I grabbed Zachary's shackled hands and shoved all the precious jewels and metals into them. I closed his fingers around them and clasped his hands in mine, my gaze unwavering.

"You will not suffer any more today," I promised him, "these will pay your debts. You are a free man."

He looked at me with his mouth hanging open and slowly his head dropped to look at the jewelry in his hands as I let my hands slide away from his. His gaze snapped back up to meet mine, and then his face twisted and contorted as he burst into tears.

"Thank you, my Lady," he sobbed, barely able to get the words out and bowing his head to me, "you are an angel. A gift from God above."

I shook my head giving him a gentle smile and putting my hand on his shoulder. "Just Atlas," I whispered quietly so only he could hear, "I'm one of you; I always will be. I swear to you, your child will not grow up as a victim to this system. Patience is all I ask."

I turned, standing as tall as I could to look straight at the King. I wasn't afraid of him anymore, knowing that I couldn't be if I was going to save the lower castes. The only feeling I held for him now was disgust.

"I have finished my Convicting," I declared, curtsying low, "Thank you for this opportunity." Without waiting for his response, I gracefully returned to my seat. I kept my hands buried in my skirts so no one could see that I was shaking uncontrollably.

Silver cleared her throat and gave a closing address as Zachary Marsh, 7, was escorted out of the throne room. The blood was rushing in my ears and I stopped listening, waiting for one of the camera men to yell that we were off the air. I had completely forgotten that this was televised during my Convicting, and the gravity of my actions settled into the pit of my stomach.

As soon as we were off the air I jumped up, ready to walk as fast as I could out of the throne room.

"Everyone will leave the room immediately," King Corvax's voice boomed out, making me jump and tense up. I looked back at him and saw that he was looking directly at me. "Except Atlas. You will stay."

Some of the guards looked at each other and Alexandre stalked over to stand beside me, but the King cleared his throat and said more forcefully: "Everyone!"

I looked over at Alexandre, but all I could feel for him was disappointment. I fixed him with a cold stare, daring him to say anything. He lowered his eyes and walked away, face expressionless.

I turned my eyes to the king, not wavering as I stood in the middle of the room while everyone hurriedly left around me. I was not afraid. I was not afraid.

He let the silence drag on even after the doors had closed behind me. My breath was ragged, and I was shaking, but I didn't break eye contact. I was reminded again of how much Alexandre resembled him, and something inside of me wished the prince had stayed.

"What is your plan here?" he asked finally, leaning back and tenting his fingers.

"Same as everyone else, I guess," I muttered, shrugging nonchalantly.

"It won't work," he said simply, but with authority behind the words.

"You're going to have to be more specific," I replied, tilting my head to the side slightly. My mouth was dry, and it was hard to swallow.

"You won't be queen."

"I know," I shot back quickly. The last remaining hope in me shattered, leaving an icy chill in my heart. He wouldn't let me be with Ross either; it would destroy the crown's image. "You've won. Congratulations, your majesty," I added cynically.

"Then why are you still here?" he asked evenly.

"I want to be here," I told him, "the princes want me to be here."

"You bring chaos into my country, and into my home," he growled, placing his hand on the arms of his throne, "make a mockery of the selection-"

"Then stop testing me!" I shouted, interrupting the most powerful man on the entire continent, "You won't break me, and that's a promise. You're only making it worse for yourself."

"How dare you talk to me like that!" he roared, his confidence fading as anger took over him.

"How dare you use," I said through clenched teeth, "an innocent, starving man. . . as a pawn against me."

"I am your king!" he yelled, jumping up.

"I am your subject!" I shot back at him.

"You will regret ever setting foot in here, eight!" he threatened, his eyes alight with anger. I've seen it before, in Alex.

The throne room echoed with a deafening silence.

"Whatever you do can't be worse that what you've done to me the past 22 years," I said calmly, looking him up and down.

"And you want revenge?" he asked, sitting back down with a smirk, "Is that it?"

"You may not believe me, sir," I drawled, sighing, "but I don't want to see an end to the monarchy. I'm not trying to bring down the country. I don't want anything other than to see your son safe and happy."

"And yet you renounce your place in the selection." It wasn't a question.

"I will be gone when the selection ends," I promised.

"Why shouldn't I send you away right now?" he proffered.

I felt my heart rate spike. "If I leave the Turks go with me," I lied, clenching my fists to keep my hands from shaking.

"Am I supposed to assume that you were the one that secured the alliance?" he laughed, "you think so highly of yourself, eight."

"Why else would they ask for my immunity?" I suggested, "I helped you."

He looked off to the right. "Continue to step out of line," he said after a moment, looking down his nose at me, "and my sons won't be able to protect you."

"I will leave here on my terms," I declared, "only when I am dismissed by a prince, like the rules state. After all, rules. . . create order."

"You think you're so clever," he tisked, "I see right through you."

"Take a good look then," I said sarcastically with a huffy laugh, throwing my hands out, "Stop seeing me as a threat, and start seeing me as what I truly am: an eight. An eight who will not be silent in the face of viscous cruelty."

"Well aren't you a saint," he cooed, unfazed.

"Don't turn me into a martyr."

He gave out a sharp "Ha!" and then added, "like anyone would care."

"You've taken everything from me," I said seriously, taking a step backwards, "I have nothing left to lose. Remember that." I turned, walking with a controlled, even pace.

"How are your scars, Lady Atlas?" he asked, bemused.

I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. "I was 17 the first time I was whipped for stealing," I explained, turning halfway, "but you didn't know that did you?"

"You break the law, you are dealt punishment," he told me, "honestly, eight, I didn't think I would need to explain that."

I felt unbridled rage, but it was hidden behind a cold exterior. He may lose his temper, but I won't. Even in the face of such cruel apathy, I wasn't going to break.

I was going to break him.

"And what laws did Prince Alexandre break?" I asked passively, not letting my voice waver as the picture of the prince being caned by his father became clearer with him right in front of me.

"Do you really think," he snarled, "that kindness and empathy can run a country this big, eight? My son is inheriting a throne that doesn't allow for mistakes, that gives no second chances. Discipline breeds leaders."

I opened my mouth, but he continued. "I'm not going to sit here and debate with you how I raise my children. Trust me, eight, compared to my own rearing, my methods are humane."

"So, it's a generational thing," I muttered, "is that it? Passing down tradition?"

"You are really starting to irritate me," the king said through gritted teeth, "I suggest you walk out of here before you say something you regret."

I was scared. Terrified. "You clearly came out fine and in control of your emotions," I stated ironically, "And Alexandre isn't permanently scarred physically and emotionally because of your failure. . ."

The king jumped up, rushing forward. I stayed where I was, even when his hand came up to grip my jaw. "How does it feel?" I mumbled through clenched teeth as he raised my face up to look at him, "To have failed as a father and a king because you only learned to communicate with violence."

I grabbed his wrist with my hands, forcefully shoving him away just as I saw his arm rise to backhand me. I stumbled backwards, putting space between us.

"You will die, eight!" he roared, making me flinch, "and I'll enjoy watching you hang!"

I felt my body go numb, and true fear set in. I knew he would keep that promise.

I didn't know what to say to that, and I was already pushing my luck. "If you'll excuse me, your majesty," I said evenly, "I have a fitting to go to." Turning in a whirl, I didn't wait to be dismissed.

I forcefully threw the doors open, my strength surprisingly still there even though I hadn't been training. It startled Ross, who was standing against the back wall, waiting for me. It hurt to see Alexandre wasn't here too, but even if he were, I wouldn't have been happy to see him.

I glared at Ross and then walked right past him, seething with rage at the sight of his hurt expression. I didn't know if he felt guilty or upset that I gave away his gift, but I was already a mess of emotions from the king and wasn't going to put myself through anything else right now.

"Atlas, wait," he called, grabbing my wrist as I got near him.

I raised my arm and jerked it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me," I growled, "Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me."

I stalked away from him, and he followed but stayed silent to put some distance between us and the throne room. When we reached the foyer, he spoke again. "Atlas, I am sorry," he said gently, guilt contorting him face.

"I don't want your apology!" I growled, "I wanted you to do something during the Convicting. You couldn't even look me in the eye, you coward!"

"Atlas," he said, suddenly getting defensive, "That is not fair."

"Neither is a life sentence for stealing clothes, Ross!" I shouted with hot, angry tears running down my face, "Life isn't fair. It's about time you learned that."

I thought that would pacify him, but his eyebrows furrowed, and he straightened. "You do not know what it is like, Atlas," he continued defiantly, "We cannot just openly question our father in public like that. It is a complicated situation and. . . and I know life is not fair. My life has not been-"

"Don't."

He balked, blinking in surprise. "Wh. . ." he stammered, taken aback by my interruption.

I shook my head at him. "I don't want to hear whatever justification you have for staying silent today," I said, turning to walk away from him.

I stopped when I saw Prince Alexandre standing at the top of the stairs. I groaned loudly. "What the hell do you want!?" I demanded, his presence a stab in the heart.

He squinted his eyes and gave me a hard look. "Leave my brother alone, Atlas," he warned, his voice low and hostile.

I laughed loudly. "Oh! I'm the bad guy!" I shouted, stepping back so we formed a triangle and I could look at both princes in turn.

Alexandre took a single step down. "What you did today-"

I clapped my hands together close to my chest. "Alright, humor me for a second," I said sarcastically, my voice wavering as the memories flashed in front of my eyes like lightning.

Alex and Ross looked at each other but didn't say anything. "Have you ever seen," I started, my voice cracking already as I felt fresh tears pouring down my face, "what a person looks like after they've frozen to death?"

I looked at each of them with a bitter smile. "No?" I continued, watching them exchange a worried look, "Wow! I'm surprised! And did you know. . . there are no graveyards for eights?!"

My head swiveled to Ross, who looked green. "They don't get grave plots, only sevens and up do," I told them as I turned to look at Alex. His face was angry, but he looked like he was going to cry. "Where did we put them, your majesty?" I asked scathingly.

Alexandre didn't answer, not that I expected him to. "We dumped them into the fucking canal!" I shouted hysterically, gasping for air as a sob escaped my lips.

I looked over at Ross. "So until. . . unt. . ." I started, trying to control my crying long enough to get the words out, "Until you've watched the sunrise while throwing a body off a bridge? You don't get to talk to me ABOUT WHAT'S FAIR!!"

I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve, sniffling. Looking back and forth between them, I waited for any kind of reply, but all I heard was the blood rushing in my ears.

"Get out of my sight," I told them, surprisingly myself with the deadly calm in my voice, "I don't want to see you anymore today."

They both looked angry and hurt at the same time, but after a moment Ross walked over to the stairs. I looked in front of me as he joined his brother, refusing to look at them, and they silently left up the stairs towards their rooms.

I looked around me, but the entrance hall was completely empty.

I sank to my knees as the weight of the world came crashing down onto my shoulders. Something had to give, and I feared it was approaching faster than I could prepare for.

A/N I really hurt my shoulder from typing so much on my tiny keyboard, but ya girl just received a split keyboard as an early Christmas present!! Now nothing is stopping me from continuing this fic, and we're getting close to a break in the action very soon, so stick with me as I furiously finish these last chapters < 3