Hi! In The Elite Kiera Cass mentioned a queen named Abby. We didn't learn very much information about her so I was curious as to what her story was. This is my take on it, as well as being my first fan fiction, so I would really appreciate feedback. I hope you like it!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Selection Trilogy or its characters. The amazing Kiera Cass owns it all.

Chapter 1

The rebel camp is only a few miles out of Angeles, and from my spot on the bluff, I can clearly see the Illéan palace. I shiver, not from the cold breeze, but from knowing that in a few short hours, I will be climbing over the high walls that protect the royal family from the rest of the world.

"Morning, Abby, I knew I would find you here."

I turn to face Ryan as she comes to sit beside me. "What are you doing here?" I ask my former instructor.

She shrugs, "The view's nice. And I came to give you this." She hands me a small backpack.

I take it and unzip the biggest pocket first. Bottles of rubbing alcohol, gauze, tweezers and antiseptic ointment are neatly packed inside.

"Wow." I say, "Does everyone get this?"

"Yes and they're going to need it. This year's initiates are some of the stupidest I've ever seen." She gives me a sideways glance. "Except for you."

My cheeks flush at the compliment and I look down.

"Do you think someone will die today?" I look up from my hands and stare incredulously at Ryan. She seems to expect an answer.

"I don't know. Should someone die?"

Ryan shrugs, seemingly unconcerned with the idea. "Most people think something is seriously wrong if at least one person doesn't die. It's almost a tradition. But mostly things just depend on how talented the initiates are. But if you can't survive initiation, you won't survive as a rebel."

When I first met Ryan, her bluntness had shocked me. She just seemed too delicate and beautiful to say the things that she did.

That was the first lesson I learned as an initiate — appearances are deceiving.

Ryan looks at her watch, "It's almost time. The others are probably waiting for us in the clearing." I nod and grab my pack.

True to Ryan's prediction, the rest of the initiates are standing in the area, where the trees are the thinnest. I stand in the back of the group, as Ryan climbs onto a tree stump at the front.

"Hello initiates!" she trills. "Today is the last day of initiation. As you know, we fight against the king and his twisted ideals for our country. We fight for equality!" We all wave our hands in silent applause. When we are this close to Angeles, we can't afford to be loud.

Ryan smiles, her face shining with excitement. "Initiates, your assignment today is . . ." she pauses dramatically. My hands are shaking and I grab fistfuls of my shirt to keep them steady. "Scouting safe rooms." I hear disappointed sighs in the crowd and judging by the way Ryan's lips harden, she does too. But then her smile reappears. "I know it's not very exciting, but think: how else will we flush the royal rats out?" We acknowledge her words with another round of silent applause.

After Ryan's speech, the initiates follow her as she cuts through the trees. I shift the bag on my back and methodically run my fingertips along the smooth metal of my gun. We quietly move through the trees until we reach a small clearing. The walls of the palace loom and they're higher than I could have imagined.

"Listen up, initiates, in two hours we will meet back here. Disable the guards and don't kill unless it's absolutely necessary. You will be searching for any safe rooms, remember where they are; you'll need to report back afterwards." Ryan looks at us, "Got it?" We nodded in confirmation and she began planning where she's going to send us.

Ryan tells half of the initiates to sneak along the west wall while the other half goes around to the east wall. Her instructions come quickly and I struggle to register them. Before I head off with the west group, Ryan grabs my arm. "Head off by yourself when you get in. Look for the safe room that hides the royals." She whispers quietly in my ear. I manage a weak smile before she releases my arm.

"Do you have any advice?" One of the girls, Myra, gasps anxiously.

"Yeah," Ryan grins as she melts into the trees. "Don't get shot."

The guards don't realize that there are rebels in the palace until I'm halfway up the grand staircase. Will, Eric and Daisy have disappeared down a hallway, and I stealthily run down a side corridor lined with statues.

I hear the clatter of footsteps on the marble floor, before I see them. I duck behind a carving of a fat man with a crown. A large group of guards sprint past. One is carrying a pale woman in an expensive-looking robe.

I follow the group down a few flights of stairs and I turn the corner, and run into a man guarding a heavy metal door. Before he can do anything but open his mouth in surprise, I neatly dance past his outstretched arms and smack him on the head with the butt of my gun. He crumples to the ground.

Luckily, I don't run into any guards as I jog away from the room, so I don't have to use any of the wacky escape strategies Ryan taught us during initiation. Sliding my way through the ventilation system or jumping out of windows is my thing — not.

As I run, I realize what I've discovered: an important safe room. It might even be the royal safe room. Or it might not. But it seems important. No one would put such a heavy door on a room that doesn't matter.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't notice him until I crash into his chest. We spring apart and he raises an eyebrow as he notices my gun pointed at his head.

"You wouldn't shoot me."

I smile wryly. He knows that isn't true. My finger fits comfortably around the trigger, and my hand doesn't shake. "Never say that to someone holding a loaded gun." I advise, lowering the gun and shooting him in one of his perfectly polished leather shoes. He drops to the floor and howls in pain.

I study him as he writhes in pain on the floor. He has honey blonde hair, warm brown eyes and a square jaw — he looks like summertime. He's obviously someone who comes from money — his navy suit is impeccably tailored, but oddly enough, he's muscular with broad shoulders and strong-looking arms underneath the expensive fabric.

"What do you want?" he pants, "I won't tell you anything."

"I didn't want anything." I reply, "You were in my way."

"Well, I'm out of your way now."

I smirk, "Thanks for sharing, but I was aware of that. Bye, it was fun, but it wasn't really fun." I say as I vault over him.

I don't run into any guards on our way to the clearing where we were supposed to meet Ryan. She's waiting for us with ten other initiates. Will, Eric, Daisy and Myra are missing.

I frown, "Where are the other four?" Ryan shrugs in reply and she grabs my arm and pulls me away from the rest of the group.

"No idea. How did it go?" She asks quietly.

"Good. I followed a group of guards down into a basement. They were carrying a woman. She was pale and she was wearing a fancy robe."

Ryan chews on her lip. "Sounds like a noble. The queen maybe?" She looks at me shrewdly. "Do you remember how you got down to the basement?"

"Yeah. I could draw it if you had a map."

A pair of disheveled boys — Will and Eric — who's carrying an upset-looking Myra —bursts through the trees. "Daisy's dead." Will states flatly. No one says anything, but I'm sure we are thinking the same thing: Daisy has just failed initiation. It's obvious and insensitive, but true.

There are only two ways to fail initiation and dying is one of them.

Ryan nods, "We're not waiting for anyone else. Let's go."

Once we are back at the camp, Ryan grabs a map of the palace and hands me a pencil. "Draw." She instructs.

I carefully trace the path that I followed. I pause. Was it a right or left turn I made? I close my eyes and see the corner of the wall on my left. Left. It was a left turn. I finish marking the map and hand it back to Ryan.

While I was drawing, the initiates lined themselves up with their backs to the palace, every inch of their bodies radiating with relief at surviving initiation. I stand beside Eric. "Rose!" Ryan calls, and I stumble forward. She attaches a small pin to my jacket. It's shaped like a star with many interconnecting lines woven between the five points. It's beautiful.

Her eyes meet mine. "Welcome to the rebels."