My body is spent and my mind wrung out. I don't mean to, but my eyes droop and my head flops from side to side begging for slumber. At some point on the way back to the church, I fall asleep on Hale's shoulder. I wake up just as the cart stops. I wipe my chin and pretend it never happened, ignoring his chuckling.

In the church, there is one candle lit near the door and Hale uses it to guide us to the loft.

"Wait here," he says in a threatening voice.

I have no energy to do anything else. Hale returns with a soapy basin of water and a clean towel. I don't care about anything when I see that water except getting clean. I strip down to my undershirt and pants and wash from my head down. When I'm at my feet, the water is black with dirt and grime. I still do my best to scrub and rinse my disgusting feet. It's hard to pull my filthy socks on after washing but too cold to consider not wearing them.

Behind me, Hale lies on the bed and pretends not to be watching me. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I hope it's how gross I look. Our constant company has softened his edges but that is not what I want. In fact, it unnerves me.

"Your back looks bad. We have to change your bandages."

I shake my head, even though I know my back should be healing instead of burning and aching all day.

"Come on, lie on the bed on your stomach."

"It'll get wet," I say before remembering that I don't care.

"I know what I'm doing."

I don't move.

"I can make you. Knock you out, or just hold you down. You know I can. I'd rather you not die of an accidental infection. Kind of makes me look bad."

I snort.

"There you go, don't lose your fire, Princess."

I shrug and go over and lie down on my stomach. The bed is so soft and warm from his body resting while I washed. I'm clean, I had a basic meal today, and I am bone tired. While Hale is ministering to my wounds, I fall into a deep sleep. I sleep well for the first time in a long time. I dream of nothing.

When I wake, I am warm and being held in strong hard arms. I sigh. Maybe it was all a nightmare.

Kile. I lower my cheek to the arm and kiss the inner elbow. The body behind me stiffens.

Hale.

I bolt into a sitting position, stretching my back painfully. I suck in an agonized breath. I am in Hale's bed. We were spooning.

"What the?" I look down. I'm in bandages and panties. My breasts are barely covered by the encircled gauze. I shield myself with my hands and turn to Hale. He is in his boxers and nothing else. His eyes are shut.

If he weren't so awful, he'd be handsome. I hate that. I worry that is why I didn't see through his façade- because it was such an appealing one. Maybe I used to be shallow and superficial, but not anymore. There is integrity in pulling out chicken guts all day no matter how you look or what your social status is. A person could be an awful witch with a whip working in a field, or a kind, timid girl in a factory just as easily as I could have been a cold, hard ruler or a thoughtful, warm leader. I have to get back to my dad. I have to tell him what I learned. He and I can change this, if only I can survive it.

I shake off my thoughts and remind myself that I am half-naked. I scan the room.

"Where are my clothes?" I demand loudly, poking Hale in the breastbone.

"Neena is washing them," he says, his voice clear and awake. "She said she'd leave them outside the door."

I nudge him with my hip. "Well, get them!"

"Yes, your highness," he chuckles, and moves not an inch. Finally, he opens his eyes.

I shudder.

Despite my bruises and sores, he is not looking at me the way a captor should. He has a spark in his eye that makes me frantic to cover up.

"Why am I in your bed?" I ask.

"After I bandaged your back, you were dead to the world. I thought it was a good chance to get your clothes off."

My nostrils flare and I start to launch into a tirade, "You have no right—"

He cuts me off and says flatly, "So they could be washed. We have very few to spare."

"You sure had a lot at the castle." I squint at him. How did he pull that off? Did his suave manners and shiny look fool everyone?

"We threw everything we had into getting me there. Look, it worked. I have you, your Dad is a spineless mess, and people saw me on TV. All of Illea knows I am with the rebels. They saw how close I could get. They knew I was there for them. So many people became sympathizers during the Selection. It was the best promotional tool we could have had. I owe it all to you."

I shove his rock hard chest. "You're awful!"

"No, you are. And I thank you. You've made possible my dreams. The rebels will take the monarchy down. Who would have guessed we'd be in bed together? Hmm?"

"Clothes, Hale." I jab his ribs. "Now."

He slides out of the bed and ambles to the door, grabbing his pants up with one hand. I shut my eyes.

I hear the door being unlocked.

My clothes are tossed in my face. Spluttering, I pull them on and say, "I liked the poultry lady. I want to work with her again." Hale freezes mid pulling on his shirt. He slowly finishes the job.

"You liked her? She didn't say a word to you."

"Of all the people I've met, she's my favorite. Was she...is she blind?"

Hale gives a quick jerk of his chin but says nothing. Something niggles in the back of my mind. Something he said when we were at the poultry factory in the stairwell...

I blurt out, "Can I go back with her or what?"

"What. You're with me back at the sewing factory today. It's starting to look like we're a team. People like it."

I shake my head and look at him like he's crazy. "No one recognizes me."

"Oh, really? All the recent broadcasts and no Eady. But Hale now has a right hand woman?"

"Ew." I hate that we slept so close like that. I hate that I thought he was Kile. Everything he is doing to me is humiliating.

He rolls his eyes. "Grow up."

I ignore his attempts to banter with me on the way to the sewing factory, but I do sit up front with him. I start to interpret the people we pass with a different lens. They do stare. They do seem partly in awe. No one meets my eye. Why would that be?

"So you're here because of your idea the other day," he says. "About the fabric needing a layer between the sides. No one knows how to do it."

I turn to him with my mouth open. I can't believe they actually listened to me.

"Go on," I prompt.

"So show them."

"Why would I help you?"

"You'd be helping Kile and the people living in his houses."

"I'd be helping the rebellion and I am not about to do that."

"You already are. Your absence looks bad. Your dad is an empty shell without you, totally depressed. The rebellion gains support daily. People already think you're on my side. Like, literally, you are by my side." He nudges my shoulder.

I want to shove him off the cart but I don't.

"They think you defected." He smirks.

"I'll clear that up," I say weakly, wishing I believed myself. "I'll not go down in history as a traitor!"

"You'll go down in history as a revolutionary."

"Dream on. You are a traitor. You, Neena, Burke..." Saying his name leaves a sour taste on my tongue. My hope deflates. Is that what everyone thinks? Oh, God, my father. I hope he believes in me. I have to hold on to my faith in him. It's all I think about as we ride once more through the throngs of dirty, crippled, sad looking people in the marketplace.

When I see the dilapidated sewing factory I am awash in despair remembering my failed escape attempt. My back pain drags my spirits down but I need every ounce of resolve and energy to get out of this.

I try to bolster myself. Here it is possible I will see Kile. A very small possibility. He may come back in person for his order. I have to make contact with him, at all costs. It's not just my life in the balance. The bombs they mentioned could hurt people and will definitely hurt the monarchy.

We weave through the parking lot, filled with all manner of transport. I search for Kile's horse but I don't see it. I console myself that maybe he drove something different today.

Once inside, Hale shackles me to a machine in the big room this time.

A petite girl scuttles toward us. Hale gives her a condescending nod. Odd. He usually charms the workers.

She nervously casts her eyes around the large bustling room, hunching her shoulders like she is worried about being noticed speaking to us.

"Teach her to do what you were talking about," Hale orders me. "And she will teach the rest."

I start to refuse.

Hale clamps his palm around my neck.

"Do it, E. I really don't want to hurt you. But I will. You know that right? I might like you but I will hurt you if I have to."

The girl's eyes widen and she shivers, hugging herself. I bite my lip and decide to cooperate. If only to stay in the one place where Kile might show up.

"Alright," I say. "But how about I teach a couple people at once?"

Hale shakes his head. "Stop with the bossy second guessing. You are the worst captive ever." He actually smiles.

I give him a deadly look.

"She's the best here. And the only one who can really learn something new by watching. Everyone else needs to be talked through it all day." He shakes his head and sighs. "A basic primary school education would make a big difference."

He stalks off, calling over his shoulder, "Be good, or I'll have to pat you on the back, got it?" He rounds the corner, seeming in a hurry.

I plop in a chair and examine the fabric swaths in front of me. Organizing my thoughts, I look up at the girl. She won't meet my eyes. It's the way my castle staff used to act. It shows a certain deference that makes me think she knows who I truly am.

I touch her arm and ask, "What's your name?"

"Mila," she whispers. "And that is all I'll say," she rushes out the last part.

"Why?" I ask. "Are coworkers not allowed to speak?"

She darts her eyes around the room and I notice more than one woman is staring daggers at us.

"You know that's not what we are," she says. "Can you teach me?"

I go through my plan for the project and then slowly show her the steps. She nods, asks a question or two, and seems quite smart. She's a good student and soon she has moved her machine close to mine and we are moving through the process with more and more speed.

I like having my own machine. It takes me a while to figure it out since it is several models outdated from the ones I work on in the castle. Plus, at the castle servants thread it for me and prime everything so I never run out of thread or untangle my own snarls. Doing it for myself is new, but I like being able to not ask for help.

Once I'm in a groove, it becomes an easy task. I learned two invaluable things from Neena: how to sew and to be careful who you trust.

Throughout the morning, Mila and I sew hems in thick, shower curtain type material. It's unbending and keeps breaking my needle.

How could I send Kile another message?

The reverse side of the curtains is pliable and thin, roughly textured and difficult to avoid tearing while threading it to the other side. My idea, the layer between, a mix of cotton and water resistant polyester, works well to adhere the two opposite fabrics into a smooth pliable but thick curtain.

I should sew a message to one. Or to a scrap. If only I had paper. I am surrounded by other women and they all seem to be very watchful. Almost like Hale told them to keep an eye on me. I wonder if Kile came back today whether they would hide me or if Hale would appear to do it. Maybe I'd shout out to Kile, he'd embrace me, recognizing me despite the wreckage of my face and body. He'd take my face in his palms and swear to me he'd never let me go. I'd say sorry and he'd forgive me. We'd kiss, his soft lips against my own, his gentle words of love and strong arms surrounding me and protecting me.

I look up.

The coverall man is in front of me, glowering.

"My boss wants to see you. You're the one who thought of this design, right?" He grimaces as he takes in my awful smell and the red shiny skin of my face. Today I have a series of oozing sores on my lower lip and my eyebrow is scratched from the cart. "Hurry, wench. This shipment goes out in twenty. My boss is in a hurry."

I stand up and try to take a step toward him.

A woman is suddenly behind me, hands on my shoulders. Another is beside me, speaking to him. A third is on my other side, squeezing my arm tightly.

I gasp with the pain searing through me. I can still speak though. I open my mouth to plead for my freedom. A woman jabs me in the back, directly into the whip wound. I suck my teeth and try not to scream. It feels like I'm being skewered by a hot knife. The coverall man steps back. His face reveals his growing concern about my mental stability.

Mila says softly, "Actually, I thought of it."

The women titter. Mila darts an anxious glance at me.

The man's face relaxes at the prospect of Mila being his to escort. She is small and pretty and doesn't look at all infectious. Unlike me.

"Whoever thought of it, come with me," he turns to leave.

I try to follow, deciding a brawl would be better than letting this chance pass.

Hale appears to my left, looking worried and walking quickly toward me. Then he breaks into a sprint toward me. I can tell I'm about to be spirited away again.

I spin and look for a place to run. Kile is here—I have to find him. It's worth risking everything. I have to tell him about the bombs. I have to see him, this is my chance. It's fate that it came again and I will not ignore the coincidence.

Women block my every escape. Large and small and frail and stout they all circle me with stubborn shoulders. They form a barricade around me. I can no longer see coverall man, Mila, or Hale. Why are they trying to hide me? My vision is blocked in every direction. No one can see me, either.

So I look up.

There he is.

Kile.

Standing on the catwalk.

Looking down at me!

With a furrowed brow and his hair flopping over his forehead. I can't see the color of his eyes but his posture is alert and rigid.

"Kile!" I shout, raising my hand.

He instantly pivots and races down the catwalk stairs. Like all he needed was my confirmation.

My heart sings and I take one glorious step toward him.

He's coming for me!

The women press back until I cannot move any direction.

And then one steps aside. I start to shoulder through the space she made.

A huge hard object slams into me. My breath whooshes out.

Hale? Tackling me? His shoulder juts into my belly. For a second I think I am going to be hurled across the room. But then he swoops me up and slings me over his shoulder like a bag of flour.

"Kile!" I shout, but a woman puts a wet cloth smelling of alcohol to my nose and mouth.

"Eady!" I hear his voice.

He knows me. Despite it all, he knows me.

Bright white diamonds crowd into my vision. I'm being drugged.

No! I bite the cloth as wide as I can, grinding my teeth into the hand holding it.

A huge black ink spot blacks out the center of my vision. I begin to lose my hold on time and space.

But I'm smiling. Kile knew it was me.

Hale jerks back and then loses his footing.

Kile has slammed into him.

I go sailing over his shoulder. I land on my side hard against the concrete. Intense pain shoots through my neck to my spine and ricochets back up. I scream but I hear no sound. My eyes are open but I can't see.

Grunting noises sound around me and the hard thump of fists hitting bodies.

I rub my eyes, ignoring the rushing nausea in my gut.

The periphery of my vision returns. I am on the floor in the corner of the factory. Hale is on the ground in front of me punching Kile.

Kile! I stagger to my feet scanning the room for help or a weapon.

The coverall man is being restrained by a dozen women.

I turn back to the brawl in front of me. Hale is about to hit Kile again. I throw myself at him. Hale topples sideways and we slam to the floor. His head clonks against the concrete and my chin hits his temple. Blood spurts into our faces. I roll to the side, on the verge of blacking out.

Kile howls in outrage and crashes into Hale.

He gets a punch into Hale's gut before Hale somehow manueuvers him into a headlock.

I race forward and fall to my knees in front of Kile. His jaw is red and welling but otherwise he seems okay.

"Eady, my God," Kile chokes out. "What happened?"

I glance up. Hale's eyes are wild and he sears me with a menacing stare.

"She's with me now," Hale growls.

"No," Kile coughs and gags.

"Let him go!" I order.

Hale smirks. "Tell him, Eady. Tell him you wanted to live in sin with me rather than be bound to the castle's stiff ways. Tell him so I can let him go and he can be on his merry way."

I widen my eyes. Does he mean?

Women encircle us, looking mildly concerned. They all watch Hale for direction. The coverall man is still being held back.

Hale meets my eyes and visibly loosens his grip on Kile. "Go ahead, tell him to keep up the good work and that you have a new man in your life. One who knows what you need. You don't like it easy and soft, do you? You like a little grit and grind."

I wrinkle my nose and open my mouth to reply.

"Don't bother," Kile says. "I'll never believe that."

Without thinking, I step forward and close my arms around Kile. I feel his own arms slide toward me. Hale manages to pin Kile's hands before he can really touch me.

I cup Kile's face in my palms and manage to kiss his chin.

"Kile." I say, overwhelmed with love.

"What is this, a reunion?" Hale hisses.

"He kidnapped me," I say quietly, my eyes latching onto Kile's.

Hale growls, "Eadlyn, back off or I hurt him."

I jump back at the threat and put my hands up.

"He did this," Kile says, comprehension dawning in his tormented eyes. "He took you?"

Tears course down my face. I fear this is the last I'll see of him. He has to know I am so, so sorry for everything I put him through.

"I was so wrong, Kile," I rush out. "I should have trusted you. We could have found a way. I'm sorry—" My throat closes around a colossal lump of regret.

Kile bucks forward and Hale grunts. Then Kile folds over and flips Hale over his back. Kile straightens and holds out a hand to me. I race to put mine in his.