So...here's the next chapter!

I don't own.


I'm not going to cry in front of the Council. I'm their queen, I can't show that weakness.

"Your Majesty," Dr. Cornall asks. He's currently in charge of moderating our discussion. "Have you given any thought to what would happen should Princess Rose not return?"

I gape, feeling my stomach turn. I shake my head. "No. She's going to come back. She—she's only been gone for—"

"Eight months."

"No. Seven months, two weeks, and three days. Not eight months. It hasn't been eight months yet."

Dr. Cornall purses his lips, looking uneasy. "Very well. However, we have another issue to discuss…"

I close my eyes.

"Duke Damian's accusation of child molestation."

"Now," Judge Davidson says, passing out some papers to the Council. "Since our last meeting, three more girls have come forward saying he abused them on varying degrees."

"Could you elaborate on that?" asks Dr. Cornall. "What do you mean by 'varying degrees'?"

"One child described genital fondling and another said there was penile penetration. We've had pretty much everything in-between."

"Queen Nancy, Your Majesty, I hate to imply anything, but did Princess Rose ever spend time alone with him?"

I nod, trying my best to keep from breaking down. "She—She did, but I don't think…She would've told me…"

"Your Majesty," Madame DuPont says, glaring at me. "I do not think you realize the full extent of—"

The last strand hold my wits together just snaps.

"Don't you fucking tell me I don't know the full extent," I scream. "My daughter is out there—God knows where—Out alone—She might even be dead! I realize that. I know that there's a very good chance that I won't ever find out what happened to her! And, yes, I realize that it's my fault! I know that I sent her off to—to spend time with that bastard and that he's probably molested her or—God forbid—worse! I know that's why she left. I couldn't protect her, so she just left…Because of me. So don't you dare tell me I don't realize what's going on."

As I frantically wipe away the tears that leaked out of my eyes, Dr. Cornall stands and steps over to me. "Your Majesty? Why don't we reschedule this meeting and I can escort you back to your commons?"

I get up. "I can escort myself, thank you."

With that, I leave, heading towards the bedroom. I collapse on my bed, curling up with a pillow. It's pathetic, I know, but sometimes I'll just close my eyes and pretend I'm holding her instead of a plush object. God, I miss her so much. It's just this constant ache in me that I can't shake. Even on good days, I can't stop thinking about where she is, what she's doing…If she's alive…

In a quick movement, I scratch my arm with my nails, leaving bright pink trails. I can't let myself think that. She is alive. The princess never dies in the fairytale. The princess is never molested either. Stuff like that just doesn't happen.

I hear someone come in behind me. It must be Edward because he climbs on the bed with me. I feel him kiss the back of my head. "How did it go?" he asks, gently…tiredly.

I turn to face him. He looks so old…We both do. But where I've been a game of Russian Roulette—there's a chance that I'll keep my bearings, but then there's a chance that I'll just crack like a dropped vase—he's kept himself controlled, only letting himself break when he thinks I can't see or hear. But I always do. I sigh. "It…I screamed at DuPont. She—She just…She pushed me too far. We ended it early. Nothing got done."

He strokes my arm. "We got a confession out of Damian…"

"Did Rose…?" I ask, desperate for a no.

He closes his eyes and nods.

I bury my face in his chest, letting myself cry. "I let this happen," I say, but it comes out sharp and gaspy.

"No, you didn't," he says. His voice is teetering; he fights the tears off harder than I do.

"Please, can I kill that bastard?" I ask.

He sits, pulling me up with him. He places his arm around my shoulders protectively. "Nancy…"

"Don't tell me he's going to get away with it. He can't get away with it. She's the princess for God's sake."

Taking a shaky breath, he replies, "No, no. He's going to be punished. But to get the confession, we had to promise to knock the death penalty off the table. He's going to be in prison for the rest of his life, but we can't kill him."

"Can we torture him?"

"No. I'm sorry; you know I want for him to pay as much as you do, but…I think, now, we should focus more on Rose."

"How can we focus more?" I ask, my former agitation coming back, making my tone rise. "I thought that's been our highest priority since the day it happened?"

"Well," he says. "Now we know why she left. If we can somehow make it public that he's in prison, she'll see it, and come home."

"But we can't make it too public; what if she comes back and that's what everyone's talking about? Or worse, what if she hears about it, doesn't want to face it, and decides to never return—" I say, then hiss, moving to scratch my arm once again. I do it twice; once for talking of her never returning and again for speaking of Rose as if she was a coward. As if she is a coward. Which she isn't. Any girl who is willing to save herself from the terror of that bastard cannot be a coward.

Edward takes my scratching hand in his, gently stroking my fingers. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"I—I just…I don't even know anymore."

Kissing me once more, Edward replies, his voice soft and strong and everything I need right now, "I know, my love. I know."


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