The next morning, I am refreshed enough to plead with Dad about dissolving the monarchy. It's so simple. I explain how we need to both abdicate and then arrange legislation for Illea's first democratic vote. He is calmer than yesterday and refrains from pacing. He seems to have a pitying patience for me rather than what I want, respect and agreement.

"It doesn't need to happen overnight," I say. "Let's try to have the constitution amended in one month and the legislation ready to be approved in two. But, the current cabinet needs to go. Like, yesterday." I gulp in air, hoping for the best. That's the most I've spoken since my return. The "conversation" was completely one-sided and now I'm worn out.

Dad sits mutely. He may be quiet but I don't think he's actually absorbing my points.

"Well?" I ask. I know I sound bratty but I mean, I expected him to nod or say, Go on, or Interesting...something. 

He opens his mouth. Closes it. He's in a deep gray suit and his perfectly pressed white shirt collar is the same shade as his face.

"Eady, you're still unwell. We will get you the help you need."

I clench my jaw. Before shouting at him like I want to, I take a second to observe his gray hairs, the lines around his eyes, and the stubble that usually means he's been working non-stop. I know I should let this go for now but I can't. I'm worried I'll settle back into the complacency I had before Hale. I never questioned the average level of education or income of my people. I never asked to travel or inspect anything. It was easier, but it wasn't right to be so willingly blind. I was drafting treaties for New Asia's import tax when my own country was gasping for air.

"Can you at least email me those figures I asked for?" I whine. 

"Eady, we are inasanely busy. Fennick is working as fast as he can."

I narrow my eyes. "Send him to see me then." I have some strong words for the man in charge of Illea's labor standards and regulations.

"You are in the infirmary because you are recovering. I will not allow you to conduct business meetings from your bed. It's not just your body healing, Eady. You've been through a major trauma."

"And she's home now," Mom says, breezing in. She's in pressed jeans and a vibrant green blazer. Her eyes scan me as if she's checking for new injuries. Finding none, she produces an ice pop from behind her back and hands it to me.

I take it in my least injured palm and let the coolness touch my healing lips. "Thankyousomuch," I rush out.

Casting what I would deem an irritated glance at Dad, she then softly asks me, "How did you sleep, dear?"

"Don't call me that!" I shout. They stare in shock at me. "Dear. He called me that, Hale. And sweetheart. Never call me that!" My hands shake and I have to steady them by pressing them to the sheet.

"Okay, I won't. Eadlyn is your name and I'll call you that, okay?" Mom talks like I'm five again. Dad looks nauseated.

I nod.

"The nurses tell me Kile stayed the night...again?" Mom finally says. "That's awfully sweet. Is that okay with you de—Eady? Eadlyn?"

I nod again. The pop is dripping onto the pristine ivory sheets, making a Rorschach design.

"He helps me when I wake up from the nightmares," I murmur.

"I would have—" Mom starts to say.

I interrupt, "No, you need to be with Dad. And you're still recovering too. Kile's the one I want." Truer words I've never spoken. 

Dad stands up and begins pacing in that frenetic way he has, like a caged beast.

Mom watches him but then turns back to me, sympathy clear in her eyes.

"Eadlyn, want to talk about it?"

I shake my head.

"We have counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, everything would be confidential."

I shake my head. "I'm not ready. Not sure I ever will be."

"I know it's only been a short while since you returned..."

"The salve did help. A lot." I say, trying to catch Dad's eye. But he is clearly lost in his own thoughts.

"I have a favor to ask," Mom says.

I arch a brow.

"The people are curious. They have no idea. They didn't see you on TV for a while and then there was an urgent broadcast about your kidnapping, quickly followed by your rescue. I guess there is a lot of suspicion. I know rumors aren't important, but with the insurgents so close to the castle—"

I cut her off, "Still? The encampment has been allowed to continue?"

Mom nods.

Dad says curtly, "America, I was hoping to spare her the details."

Mom sighs. "Last night the rebels used the weak part of the wall to flood in more of their supporters. Who knows what they've been promised, but they are staging a coup."

"A coup?" I echo.

"Attempting. They are attempting a coup," Dad corrects, standing alert next to Mom now. His posture is as stiff as a soldier.

"They, probably the same scum who took you, have recruited several factory owners and elite businessmen to support their ridiculous cause. People disenfranchised with their lots since the castes have been abolished. Somehow the rebels have managed to balance the appeal of both the elite and the poorest. They are all camped out there, as if I'll cave because they are making my lawn inconvenient." Dad shakes his head. Mom wrings her hands.

"They want control of the country?" I ask.

"They have only a handful of elite and people of influence. Yet there is a massive number of farmers and manual workers. Together they are deluded enough to think they can attempt a sort of coup d'état. Don't worry, we have it under control."

My mind whirls with ideas and concerns. "You're not telling me everything," I guess.

"No, I don't want to. You need rest and I can handle this." Dad seems firm. I don't push, even though I want to say this is the perfect time to abdicate and then reformulate legislation. The coup would feel acknowledged and we would not let the power dangle for just anyone to grab. No, I stay quiet, knowing he barely heard what I said earlier. I need a new approach because he is not taking me seriously.

"Hale is out there?" I ask woodenly.

Dad nods once. "He intercepted our broadcast to make his statement."

So he's got people in the media also. The idea of him outside the castle makes me so very cold. I huddle more under my sheets. I wish Kile was here.

"What about Neena?" I ask. I haven't thought much about her but I know they captured her.

"Neena is not responding to interrogations," Dad says obliquely.

"She knows most of his hiding places, I bet. She's up there in the chain of command."

"I itch to order her execution, but we need her. Leger thinks a couple more days and he can get her to talk. He's too soft," Dad says, with a twist to his lips. Dad was never strict with us kids while we were growing up. Mom was the disciplinarian and she was always creative about our consequences. I haven't ever seen this side of Dad.

"It's important for Neena to give up Hale's location and plans. I know she knows. Kile never found the maps?" It's hard for me to process all this information with the pain meds slowing me down.

Dad shakes his head. "Kile thinks there are moles in the castle that made those papers disappear. Actually, he suspects even worse. I have to focus on one fire at a time."

"Hale's the one you need to get. He's the leader, the brains, the one who could help pick new cabinet members. It might appease him until the dissolution."

Dad begins his pacing again.

I turn to Mom. "What can I do? I'm not budging on the abdication idea. And as long as I'm alive, it's my call. Once Dad is retired, of course. But, I don't think the people will wait that long."

Mom bites her lip and looks from me to Dad and back again. Her eyes are wide with concern.

"That is a major, life-altering, country changing decision," she says. "I am not weighing in on it. But I do care about Illea and I feel we need to respond to the concern over your absence. We need to show them you are safe."

"Okay..." I brace myself. Something tells me I am not going to like her idea of a response.

Mom takes a deep breath. "I'm hoping you'd consider making an appearance."

"Not speaking, of course," Dad chimes in, and then continues his feral pacing.

I tilt my head. "What do you have in mind?" I am so hesitant to resume anything about my old self.

"Maybe you and I having a light picnic and tea in the back courtyard gardens? The ones surrounded by the cliff line. It'd be safe, and it'd show we're not intimidated by the company out front. Let the press take a picture or two from a distance. People will be reassured, seeing you and I both back home. There are people who love the way Illea is, you know. You weren't exposed to many of them for a reason. They need bolstering to stand up to the rebels."

I close my eyes and lean back against the pillows.

"Can you please ask the nurse for more pain meds?" I whisper.

Mom races out.

"Dad," I say in a louder, stronger voice. "I am not going to be queen. Things need to change. I'm not deluded. I'm crystal clear. I saw things I can't unsee. You and I need to usher in this change before the rebels force it." I wheeze, completely weakened from the effort of the past hour.

Dad kneels at my bedside.

"Eadlyn, I know you think that right now. But we are talking about generations of my family. A legacy we hold dear and value above all else. We've dedicated our lives to making Illea what it is. I'm not throwing that aside because I failed to keep you safe. It's not mine to relinquish. It's a social contract rooted in the very origins of our new world."

"But—"

He interrupts me, just like he used to do all the time. "Eadlyn Schreave, you are nineteen. I will not let a decision you have made in one week effect millions of people and the world as we know it. So rest and recover, and know that you do not have that burden to bear."

I close my eyes. The nurse and Mom return. I hear them murmuring about my condition.

Then I feel Kile's hand in mine. I relax.

"Should I ask them to leave?" Kile whispers close to my ear. Goosebumps rise on my skin and I want to turn my head to his and meet his lips with mine.

Instead, I nod. We haven't been able to get very close due to my injuries. Somehow that makes his hand in mine feel all the more intimate.

I fade out as he politely asks for privacy so I can sleep. Amazingly, they seem to accept him as my spokesperson.

***                                                  ***                                                   ***                                                 ***

"Photographed? In this state?" Sylva has long been on the castle's payroll as a stylist and designer. Apparently, her mother used to give decorum lessons to all the Selection candidates. I never had much use for her, being interested in fashioning my own look. But today she has been asked to consult, given I am a tough case. Just how tough, I am about to find out.

"Are you sure?" Mom bites her lip. She has a hand mirror in one hand and a box of Kleenexes in the other. I presume to wipe off the ointment I have smeared all over my face beneath the bandages. The salve Dad ordered made has helped immensely. I have yet to thank him. According to Mom, he is racing around to double check security for our brief picnic foray outside, and also monitoring the wanna-be coup out front, although he doesn't want to appear too concerned about it.

"Yes, I'm sure," I say. It's going to take time for people to stop babying me. Did I used to like it? Not anymore.

"I need to make sure distance can disguise how severe my injuries are."

"A scarf and enough make-up..." Mom stops speaking as my fingers clumsily work to unravel my bandages. I peel off Band Aids and endless tape. It's weird no one offers to help. I have the sense that everyone is holding their breaths.

I even unstrap my neck brace. Finally I look up at Silva, Mom, two nurses, and a doctor. My face is bare.

Silva gasps and turns away. Mom frowns at her and carefully keeps her eyes on my knees. The doctor and nurse are professionally impassive. They are pros.

Still, I start to get a feeling that my injuries have not been fully divulged to me. I open my hand for the mirror. Mom hesitates.

I make a gimme gimme gesture.

She passes it over and I get a good long look at my naked face.

Inhale through nose: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.

Exhale through mouth: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.

I do my yoga breathing. It's bad. Very bad.

Mom hands me the Kleenex and I wipe my eyes which are leaking freely.

"Could you get Jocelyn?" I ask.

Mom shakes her head in confusion. "Is she your make-up artist?" she asks.

"No, a female guard who teaches morning yoga. I need her or I might hyperventilate. Can someone fetch her please?" A nurse nods and runs out.

My left eye is completely bloodshot. My right is swollen. A knobby lump is dead center on my forehead, giving me a triclops look. My neck can't hold my head up properly, so it's at a crazy off kilter angle. My hairline is bruised and peppered with scabs in all stages of recovery. My ratty hair is snarled with grease, my nose is crusted with healing sores, and my lips are puffy and blackish red. My chin has many stitches in it and my temple has three lines of stitches as well. Otherwise, my remaining skin is tight and red, shiny from peeling after the serious burn.

How on earth did Kile know it was me?

"Can I see Kile?" I ask.

"No!" Silva yelps.

Mom dismisses her.

"Kile," I plead to her.

"Are you sure?" Mom asks.

"He saw me way worse, several times."

Mom nods. "He's being interviewed about the houses live. He'll be here in a bit. Um, I should warn you that your engagement to Ean has not been officially called off. He is pacing the front waiting room every day. Erik and Heath are also hoping to visit at some point, along with May, Lucy, Marlee, Leger, your brothers again, and Josie."

"It's too soon," I say, thinking mainly of my face and avoiding their reactions.

"I agree," Mom says.

Jocelyn appears at the door. I wave her in.

"I'll be back later with your Dad," Mom says. "I have to get ready."

"Want to stay and practice deep breathing and low impact yoga?" I ask. "You'd like it."

She smiles. "Not today."

Mom reminds me to be on time for the picnic photo op. I give her a list of things I need the maids to bring back for me to get ready. Mom nods and rushes out. I think she's about to cry.

Jocelyn and I mostly stick with relaxation techniques and mental control. Jocelyn is so thoughtful and patient with me; I like her calming presence. She says nothing about my face. I should get Kaden to try this. 

Before leaving, she gives me some gentle advice for me to try to eat real food, even though IV sustenance has been easiest up to now.

"It's part of resuming real life for you, to do the things your body needs. Nourish yourself. It's healing. I'll ask the nurse to bring you mild foods. You'll try it?" She looks like she has a lot more advice she could give me. I content myself with our plan for her to see me every morning until I am well enough to rejoin her regular class. 

"I will," I promise. Then I thank her again for the special session. She says anytime, anywhere. I'm lucky I met her.

"Eady!" My favorite voice says from the doorway.

"Kile," I say, reaching for him. He sits next to me and as usual pulls the chair very close to the bed, tipping it so he is not just flush but leaning into me. He doesn't press on me, just surrounds me. I feel that he would get closer still if I was better, or if I gave him a sign.

"You look amazing," I say shyly. His hair is slicked back and his designer shirt has faint navy pinstripes, the same shade as his impeccably tailored pants. His black shoes are immaculate and I think I even see cufflinks peeking out.

He beams. "Thank you. I haven't gotten spiffy like this since you eliminated me."

"Ouch," I say.

"Feels good to be given clean, pressed clothes. I took a lot for granted before."

I nod. "I know what you mean."

"I know you do." He takes my hand, which is healing nicely. Later I'm supposed to have some peel treatment to neutralize the chemical exposure I suffered. I am glad I had no open wounds that day.

"I saw my reflection today," I comment, watching Kile very closely.

"Did you, is this metaphorical or..."

"So brainy," I tease. "In a mirror."

"Ah," he says, now watching me closely as well. "And?"

"I just can't imagine how you recognized me in the factory and in the road."

He shakes his head. "I thank heavens I did. I just know you. I know you for more than the outsides. I know your walk, your voice, your eyes, your soul."

"Oh, Kile. Never leave me."

"Not planning on it. Even if you send me away, which you did promise not to do again."

"Forgive me?" I ask, trying not to cry.

"Of course." He bends forward and lightly brushes his lips on mine. I arch my neck for more but he pulls back.

"Am I too ugly?" I blurt out.

"Eady, nothing about you could ever be ugly. Want to know what Gavril was wearing today? Fushia. Believe it. I wish I had worn shades." He crosses his eyes. 

I snort, and then cover my mouth with my hand.

"See?" he says. "I knew you'd cover your mouth like that. Like I know you snort when I say something preposterous. I used to have a game, how many times I could get you to snort in a day."

"And?" I ask, intrigued by this unknown fact about our past.

"Five. Not easy. A record. I'll spend a lifetime trying to beat it."

"Even if my skin never gets better than this? It's supposed to, but what if..."

"Eadlyn, I almost lost you. And I never told you how I felt. You know how close I was to throwing the job back in your face, shoving Ean aside, and kissing you in front of the country? Very. I didn't though. Now I have a second chance and I'm not going to let some scrapes hold me back."

I let out a breath. "I wouldn't have believed you before. That it didn't matter. I felt like my looks were something people respected about me. But now I see past that. When I was shackled to the processor at the poultry factory, I met this lady. She was hunched and blind and couldn't speak well, but she shared her food and helped me stay upright. I swear she was one of the most beautiful people to me. In such an ugly place, her generosity was worthy of anyone's respect. The kindness she shared was worth dozens of tiaras."

Kile kisses my fingertips.

"How was it working on the houses?"

"I missed you. Especially at night."

My face heats.

"During the day I was busy building and meeting people and tweaking design to fit the surroundings and individuals. My mind and body have never been so attuned to the landscape, people, and weather around me. I really felt those homes blended in with the exact location they were meant to. I bet you feel that way when you design a dress that is perfect for the person or event. It just clicks. Satisfying isn't even a powerful enough word."

"You have to keep doing it. There are so many variations of homes you could make to help workers in the hardest places of Illea."

Kile nods. "I'm where you are."

"Do you care if I'm not royalty?"

"Are you kidding? That was never a turn on for me."

"Weird," I reply. "I never knew, but house design is a turn on for me."

Kile makes a shwew sound and wipes his forehead as if he were sweating over it.

"I should have asked before, do you want your sketch books? I know your hands are sore, but they look a lot better today."

I shake my head fast, so fast my head aches.

"Whoa," he says, cupping my cheeks to still my frantic energy.

I blink away tears and say, "No thanks. I should get ready for this silly picnic. Is it me or does it seem like everything we do at the castle is purely for show?"

Kile cocks his head.

"I mean," I explain. "Have we ever had a real picnic? Mom and me? No. For fun? No. Never happened. I remember one with cameras when Osten was born, to show how well Mom was adjusting to the additional child."

"I was at that one," Kile says. "You and I argued over the last piece of baklava cream cheese cake."

"Oh, yes. That was when we had that Greek chef. I miss her."

"You won," Kile says.

"Let that be a lesson to you," I quip. "Queen or not I like my sweets."

"Remember what happened after?"

I mull for a second. "You!"

"I threw a Frisbee at Ahren, who I had told to stand behind you."

"And I dropped the baklava slice!"

"Let that be a lesson," Kile smiles sweetly. "Maybe we can split the last slice, aye?"

I laugh, "Agreed." I run my palms over my forehead and feel the snags of my stitched together skin. "I am such a mess," I can't help but say.

"I know you're not foolish enough to think your scars matter to me. What matters is how mad your mom will be if you're late for the appearance. I doubt you plan on wearing that hospital gown to the picnic?"

I put my finger on my lips and pretend to ponder. "The front design is simple and very functional...but the back leaves a lot to be desired." I smile.

He arches a brow and says, "I find both sides desirable."

I giggle. "Will you be there?"

"I just finished my part about the progress of the houses being built. Until you let Ean down, I can't be near you on camera. My face doesn't lie." He bats his lashes at me. "Or at least, my mom said that. Anyway, security is super tight. I'll be in the wings keeping an eye on you. Afterwards everyone is instructed to clear the way for you to come straight back to this bed."

Blowing out a big breath, I start to sit up and edge to the side of the bed.

"Are the maids out there?"

He looks at the corner of the ceiling. "Kile," I sternly say. "What is it?"

"Lucy and May are out there. They want to help. Your mom thought they would be a good idea."

"I guess," I say, feeling my face again.

He nods. "Just say the word and I'll let them in."

"The word."

He smirks and opens the door and motions for them to enter.

And hour later I am ready. I don't want to look in the mirror. I trust Lucy and May when they say I did a great job pulling myself together.

Combining a delicate white sundress with a bejeweled, wide belt felt like a good choice. My décolleté was unharmed and I rarely wear clothing that shows any cleavage whatsoever, so the eye will automatically draw there, instead of to the barely concealed stitches and discoloration of my face. My legs are covered by the flouncy fabric so the injuries there won't show. The sandals are more like moccasins, chosen to hide the state my ankles are still in. And my hair is done up by May in a poof. It too distracts from my ragged complexion and too slim arms. The straps are stringy and playful. Overall, I would have never worn this previous to my abduction. It should draw the attention away from my absence and onto my changing image. It's the perfect segue to the transitions I want to bring about to the ruling body. My outfit is the opposite of what the monarchy has been: light, free, and fun.

When they finish fussing over me, Heath and a troop of guards escort me to the outside door. The servants all pass me in a hush but whispers layer thickly behind me.

My heart races. Are some of them in the resistance? I look at Heath, who is carefully examining me.

"We can wait as long as you need."

I thanked him briefly when I first came to. Now I look into his eyes and see how real his concern still is for me. It's humbling, especially after I treated him sourly before.

"Heath," I say, putting my arm on his massive bicep. "It wasn't your fault. I should have said that before."

He dips his head.

"You understand that, right? Hale would have gotten me no matter what. He's awful but he's smart."

A guard clears his throat. I ignore it. I have time. Finally.

Heath seems to be fighting back tears. I throw myself into his chest, hugging him fiercely. He takes a full second before he responds with an iron-like embrace.

"I mean it," I whisper. "I made a bad call but it's not your burden. I need your conscience clear so you can be alert."

"No doubt," he says. "I will protect you."

"How is Eikko?" I pause and watch Heath's face soften. "I mean, Erik."

Heath seems hesitant to answer.

"Come on, tell me," I urge.

"He's pretty shook up. He's basically a mess."

He also came and saw me when I was out of it. Since then, after Mom noticed I wasn't really making sense with what I was saying, she banned most visitors.

"I need to see him," I murmur.

"He can't wrap his head around how he was friends with Hale. It's got him doubting everything."

"I trusted him mistakenly. I paid the price. I think I can take that penalty for us all. Tell him that. You'll see him later?" I don't know how I know this, but I've saw the way they argue and then dart glances at each other for the rest of the day. I am not sure in what way, but I think they are close.

Heath nods. "We just want things to go back to how they were."

"Not me," I say.

Tipping my chin up, I stalk through the outer doors. My posture is ramrod straight, even though it hurts. I smile and wave to Mom, who is sitting on a blanket in the center of the back topiary garden. I pause like I'm admiring the picturesque scene but really it's the first time I've been outside since my rescue. The sun stings on my new skin and my eyes water. All the awful memories push to get in.

Heath is next to me, more close than a normal guard would be. I am grateful because I lean against him as I fend off the flashbacks. He pretends like he's saying something to me to cover our pose.

I manage my breathing and keep my eyes on Mom.

The air shimmers. I am back in the fields under the scornful eye of Jayel. I moan and sway, holding my head. 

"Steady now," Heath murmurs. 

Mom stands and saunters over with a frozen smile. She's in a lovely yellow sheath dress with a sophisticated version of a brimmed straw hat. She looks every bit the country girl queen. She reaches me and drapes an arm over my shoulder, using her other hand to support my elbow.

"I've got her," she says to Heath. "Thank you."

Heath backs up to join the long line of guards standing watch over our casual picnic.

"You can do this, Eady. Just a couple steps and then we can sit and eat. Or pretend to eat. It's important or we wouldn't have you do it."

We reach the blanket and I slowly lower myself. I nibble on a strawberry tart.

"These are my favorite," Mom says.

The first flash of a camera goes off. I flinch. Bright light hits me as another flash goes off.

Suddenly the topiaries are Hale's men lurking to grab me again. I can feel that someone is stalking me, waiting to hurt me. It's a certainty deep in my bones. Wait, are those cameras or guns? Are the guards really here to protect me? Are they loyal? Who is on my side? I don't know anything anymore. 

I hunker over and curl up in a fetal ball.

"What is it?" Mom asks, panic rising in her tone. "Eadlyn? Are you alright?" 

I start to bawl. Not delicate ladylike tears but messy, gasping sobs. 

"Oh, Eady! Help!" Mom strokes my back, murmuring things. I hear Heath urging the press to leave now.

"Hey, hey," Kile's voice soothes my haywire nerves. I feel my throat clear and my heart steady. I reach for him as he reaches for me. 

He scoops me up easily and carries me back toward the castle doors. 

"I told them this was too soon," he mutters. I snuggle into his chest, wishing I could fold myself up and live there, next to his big heart. "I got you," he repeats, over and over, until I feel the cool sheets beneath me and the cold prick of a needle in my arm.