I wake up in the castle infirmary. Kile is asleep in a chair pulled close to my bedside. His cheek rests on my bed, his hair adorably splayed over my thigh. His face is toward me. I am so glad to be able to focus on the slope of his nose, the curl of his eyelashes, the twitch of his upturned lips. It helps me to endure pain like I've never known. Everything is on fire. Everything is raw and twisted and burning.

I ignored most of the pain during my captivity as a way to survive. I guess it was instinctive. Now on the soft bed in this dim room with Kile nearby and tubes and machines monitoring me, the wall I built inside to stay alive comes crashing down. Tears glide down my cheeks.

My back is on some kind of gel cushion but every inch of my whip wound feels like alcohol is being rubbed into it. And my skin, everywhere, feels wrong.

My eyes catch on a figure standing in the corner. Dad. His head is in his hands. His posture is stooped and he is surrounded by darkness. No one else is here.

I wet my lips and realize my tongue and throat are improved. On that positive note, I let the pain swallow me back into oblivion.

Who knows how long later, I hear voices.

My dad, "I can't think about that right now."

Kile, "You have to, sir. We need him behind bars when we announce that she is safe and back home. They need to see him face consequences. And the bombs must be addressed. It can't be a secret that they were willing to use such measures. The world has to see them for what they are. Not oppressed free thinkers, but violent, careless liars who have no clear plan but death and torture."

My mind spins with his meaning.

"America will be back soon. I need to see her before doing anything."

"She'll be mad," Kile says.

"Furious."

I feel a palm on my forehead. It smooths my hair off and then traces my brow.

"She's home," Kile says, his soft touch almost reverent. "That's what matters."

"Yes, son. You're right," Dad's voice is muffled by tears. Have I seen him cry before? When Mom was near death, in surgery for her heart. That's when he cried. And now over me.

The next time I open my eyes, Kile is asleep with his head near my thigh and his arm draped over my waist. His large hand is entwined with my own bandaged one. My dad is not in the corner.

"Kile," I whisper. He shifts. The lights are out and the hall eerily quiet. He's asleep. It must be the middle of the night.

"Kile," I wiggle a bit to wake him, but the motion causes me to cry out. He sits bolt upright immediately.

He reaches for a button on the rail of my bed but I make a cluck noise and he stares at me.

"Eady," he cups his palm over my cheek. I feel bandages on my face, too.

"Bombs, Hale. I was taken. My back from Jayel. My neck from the loft. Kile."

"Shh, it's okay. Take your time, Eady. Your dad will be back in a sec. Your mom, too. She just arrived." He glances at the door. "She didn't know you were gone, Eady. Your dad didn't tell her until you were found."

"Found how?" I ask. I only remember the makeshift scooter and my descent into blind, pain-filled defeat.

Kile nestles even closer like he's worried I'll disappear from this very bed.

"From the moment Hale carried you out of that horrific factory, I was looking for you. We questioned every person there and held them. No one uttered a word. You were right about their allegiance." He grits his teeth, holding back anger at all the people that could have helped him find me but didn't. I watch as his flush rises and he visibly tries to rein in his fury. I blink patiently. I'm grateful that he cares enough to be so outraged.

He continues, "I went out on horseback, covering the area around the factory in every direction. Erik and Heath were behind me. They were the only ones who would go non-stop like me. It was lucky they were there to go for help." He swallows like this is the hard part. "I saw a lump in the road. A pile of broken cart. And then, I knew. I knew it was you."

"How?" No one recognized me the entire time I was gone. Even before the damage to my face. How did Kile know me?

He smiles his own sad smile. "Your little fist, the slant of your shoulders, the way your feet pointed gracefully despite the rags and...blood." He clears his throat. This is a difficult memory for him. "I wasn't sure you were alive. Why else would they dump you in the middle of the road?"

"I escaped," I manage to say. He nods.

"Eventually, I put that together. I saw how you had tinkered with that cart. They went back and found the church a ways down the road. The splintered furniture. The loft. You are so, so brave." He closes his eyes. "I wish I had gotten there sooner."

"You got there. I might have given up if I hadn't heard the one voice I never get tired of."

"Never?" he repeats.

"Not saying I won't argue with the one voice," I tease, but I'm panting from what is now a lengthy conversation for me. But I haven't heard it all yet.

Kile leans over me and searches for a place to kiss. The geography of my face is scarce. Mostly I am bandages and ice packs and stiches covered with tape. Finally he finds a small open space near my hairline and he places a very light kiss there.

"I kept you in my arms until they made me help you into the ambulance. Erik wasn't convinced until they washed your face that it was even you. Heath threw up. The things Hale did to you...we don't even know. Tell us what you need to, when you're ready. But nothing changes how I feel Eady. I'm yours. If you want me. Whenever you're ready."

I smile. The effort it takes makes my eyes sink shut.

"Kile, bombs are around the walls. Hale put them there. I had the plans in my sock. They are in the castle, too. I don't know what day it is but I think they said Friday but then they made it earlier. I'm so tired. Can they keep us safe?" I'm not sure who they is anymore.

"Some went off last night."

I cringe. I was too late.

"They're patching the wall. They arrested a few insurgents, Neena, for one. Not Hale."

"The blueprints..."

"I'll look for them," he says firmly. "You need to rest. Leave the defense to us."

"Now," I say, certain another bomb will go off any minute. "Look now."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Please, if someone is hurt..."

"You barely just fought off a blood infection. If you had gotten the antibiotic any later..."

The door opens and my mom comes in in a flurry of lilac scent and hovering hands and tears and hair as golden red as my own. Hers cascades over my face as she bends to peer into my eyes.

"Eadlyn, my baby. What hurts? What can I do? I had no idea. I'm here now." Her voice teeters between worry, upset, and sorrow.

I try to tell her the same thing about the bombs but she soothes me and has me sip water from a straw and adjusts my sheets. Dad appears behind her, looking like a black and white version of himself, while Mom is in Technicolor.

"Your heart?" I ask her.

Mom tsks and says, "I'm fine. In the best possible shape. The doctors are even impressed. I am being monitored and medicated and I am perfectly capable," she turns to Dad, "of helping my children. Always. I should not be shielded. It is my job, as a mother, to shield." She turns back to me and kisses the corner of my eye, her lips brushing up against a bandage.

She says, "You, my dear—"

I flinch, remembering how Hale called me that.

Mom straightens and looks confused before acting like nothing happened. "I have the best plastic surgeon coming in and two dermatologists for your surgeries. We will not rest until you feel back to yourself. Ahren is on his way. He had no idea or he would have come with me."

"Hale," I start to warn her that it's not safe until we find the bombs. We shouldn't all be in one building.

Dad says flatly, "Eady, Kile told us. He is looking for those papers you mentioned. We are on it. You rest. That's your job now."

"NO!" I shake my head and the pain is intense. They both wince seeing me endure it.

"I saw people suffering, Dad. The monarchy is over. We need a new plan. Hale was right about that."

Mom and Dad murmur.

Then Dad approaches and leans next to Mom over my prone form.

He says gently, "Eadlyn, I am sorry. From the bottom of my soul. I will never forgive myself and I don't expect you to either, but I will hear everything you have to say. Just, please, rest and recover first. I need you. You're my baby. Your mother and I will do anything for your health and happiness. Never doubt that. I had every castle employee looking for you. You have to believe me."

Mom gives him a sharp look.

"I do, Dad," I whisper, about to conk out again. "I never doubted you."

I hear him exhale. Then I lose the battle and shut my eyes and let the pain meds cover my thoughts.

I wake up feeling marginally better. It's glorious.

There's a crowd in the corner of my room this time, joining Dad.

I make a gurgling sound and they are suddenly surrounding my bedside. Mom, Dad, Kadan, Osten. I don't see Kile. I try to hide my disappointment.

"Oh Eadlyn, we're so glad you're back," Mom coos. "Your fever broke. That's a great sign!" She fusses over my covers.

Dad wears a haunted expression, so I focus on Kadan and say, "Little man, I missed you."

He actually blushes and replies, "Thanks, Eadlyn. I missed you, too. We were completely stressed the entire time. I had to see the nurse I was so stressed."

It's so like him so say that. Tears prick at my eyes.

I try for a smile but I doubt it works because they all grimace in response, as if reacting to the visible wreckage of my face trying to animate.

"We were very worried," Kadan says.

"Kadan, you are so smart. How do you feel about abdicating the crown? Dissolving the monarchy and letting the people vote on the leader. Would that free you up a little?"

His face crumples and he turns to Mom, who wraps a comforting arm around him.

"Eadlyn, how much pain meds are you on?" he asks.

"Ack!" Osten whips his head toward the door. "I told Kile I'd get him when you woke up. Back in a flash—" he races out.

I continue my pitch to Kadan. After all, it affects him the most since if Dad and I aren't ruling, it's him. All him. Maybe that's why he was so stressed when I was abducted. Or maybe he was worried about his sister. I should give him a bit more credit I suppose. He's so smart it's hard to remember he's not an unfeeling robot.

"It would take some time. We could dissolve the monarchy this week and then run the election next week. No hurry," I suppress a yawn. "What do you think?"

Now Kadan looks to Dad, who is staring at my feet, his arms crossed over his chest.

Kadan turns back to me and splutters, "No. Just, no, Eadlyn. Sounds like an awful idea that would completely collapse the country, economy, and all faith in government."

"Eadlyn, I think it's too soon to be making large decisions," Mom says. "You've been through a horrible ordeal. You need to heal. Your father has ordered some special salve to be made. It should help your healing process a great deal. It will be ready tonight. The ingredients are scarce and expensive but we've tracked them down as fast as possible. It always helped him within a day. Set your hopes on feeling better and then we can talk policy."

"And Leger will want a full recounting of what happened to you," Dad says in a flat voice. "Only when you are ready."

Kile comes in, rushes to my side, and lightly picks up my bandaged hand. He's not afraid to show his feelings. I am amazed by this, considering everything I did to hide my own feelings from myself and the world. But that was before. I'm different now.

"I missed you," I say to Kile. It's like no one else is in the room. His eyes alight and he smiles a no teeth smile.

Flipping his hair off his forehead, he says softly, "I missed you, too."

It's like we just met or something—the simple statement is so new and exciting. I get to say that. I don't know why I felt like I couldn't before.

"He was gone, like, one hour," Osten says petulantly. "And you slept the whole time. I had to wait forever for you to wake up already."

Mom hushes him but I hone in on his eager face.

"You had to watch me sleep for a whole hour? Was there drool? Snores?" I try to exaggerate my voice but it's still too raspy to do much with. Osten goes still and then beams.

"Yeah! I know! It was creepy! Tubes and beeps and people coming in and poking you. It looked like you were dead but Mom swore you were absolutely not dead."

"Absolutely," I confirm. "Thanks for getting Kile. I really like having him around." I am rewarded with a slight squeeze to my hand that hurts but I love it all the same. Kile edges his hip onto the bedside and perches next to me, as if his role as my protector is now confirmed. 

"No biggie," Osten says. "Mom wanted me to make you a card but," he wrinkles his nose. "Too mushy. I have something better."

"Now honey, I told you she needed rest," Mom chastises.

"It's okay," I reply. Everyone gives me a shocked look. "What do you have?" I ask Osten.

"Cards!" He pulls out a deck from his pocket. "I learned a new game yesterday from Heath. He's cool, you know?"

"I know," I say loudly, hoping he is outside guarding my door.

"Want me to teach you?" Osten asks with a hopeful glint in his wide eyes.

Mom shakes her head and Dad says, "She is not up for it, son."

"Os-ten," Kadan draws out irritably.

"No, I totally want to learn it," I say and everyone gapes. "I don't know any card games. Can you believe that?"

"Yeah, I can believe it," Osten says, and rolls his eyes. Kile chuckles.

"I also need more stories. I have only a couple good ones. What stories do you like?" I ask Osten.

Osten thinks, pursing his lips. Mom and Dad exchange a puzzled look. Kadan rubs a furrowed brow.

Kile smiles next to me, waiting patiently for Osten to answer.

"You ever read Kafka?" he asks. "I like him. But actually, I'm more a poetry man."

Dad suppresses a laugh and buries his head in Mom's shoulder. Mom smiles gracefully at her youngest son, pride blazing in her beautiful eyes. Kadan is all about the eye roll now.

"Whitman, Silverstein, cummings, you know, the classics."

"I need to check those out," I say.

"Poetry is shorter than any story," Osten says with a meaningful nod.

Now Kadan laughs.

I ask Kadan, "Want to play cards?"

He frowns. "No thanks. I have a ton of work to do."

I nod. I know how it is.

"I'll play," Kile says.

"Awesome," I gesture to the cards with my bandaged hands. "We better start before I fall asleep for a whole 'nother hour."

And that is how I play cards with my brother and Kile for the first time ever. Kile holds my cards and his own which makes for some humorous juggling. Osten is thrilled to be teaching us something, even though he has to run and find Heath twice to ask details about the game.

"You never had time for that before," Kile says after Osten has marched off triumphantly after winning twice.

"I feel like I rescued time when I escaped Hale," I reply slowly. "I don't have to rule any longer. Soon we will dissolve the monarchy and I'll be all yours. I mean, free. That's what I mean."

"I like what you mean," Kile says, tenderly tucking the sheets in around my neck. "But I think you might have an uphill battle on the crown front. So get some sleep. Whatever you want, I'm here for you."

I drift off with a thank you on my lips.