This chapter is much longer than most of my other ones and it's mostly playing catch-up because there is a time lapse; still I hope you enjoy it! Oh and thanks for all the reviews, I love reading them guys! All you reviewers are A-mazing :)

Three Years Later…

"Come on Jeremy." I growled angrily as I attacked.

The poor boy in front of me managed to block most of my attacks but never managed to throw a punch of his own. He stumbles back as I kick his chest but at least he doesn't fall.

I sighed and stood up straight, sliding smoothly out of my fighting stance. I crossed my arms over my chest in disappointment and glared at the young man who had yet to make any real progress. I didn't need to say anything for him to understand that I wasn't happy.

"Sorry, General." He rubbed his side as though it pained him greatly but managed to remain upright, tall and proud.

Long ago, I'd climbed the job positions in the army. I was now head of the military operations, linguist to the royal family, commander of my own elite team for special operations concerning the royal family, and a bunch of other stuff that I couldn't be bothered to remember. Basically, I'd taken complete control of every soldier in Illea. I kept my title limited to general just because it was simple enough for the men to remember…and because I kind of liked the way it sounded.

At first, I hadn't gained much respect simply because I was a woman. But after I beat the living shit out of some of the "top" soldiers in the palace, they learned to give me the respect I deserved. Hell, I'd heard rumors one time saying that I was a god of some sort. Even though they were stupid rumors, they were still a little flattering. It was nice to know that they'd learned to respect my abilities.

I now made sure to instill a healthy level of fear in the men I worked with – though most of them were already scared of me. It was a good level of fear which I used to my advantage rather frequently. Most of the time the soldiers I trained wouldn't argue about having "to go through all the crap" that I put them through when they were scared.

"Train harder. You won't make it in New Asia otherwise."

He nodded to me and sent the next man in line up. He had black hair and green eyes.

He reminded me of Aspen despite the fact that I knew Aspen was dead. He'd died in the war after he'd been transferred to New Asia–before I'd gained control, I wouldn't have sent him there if I'd had control.

I made sure to sent Aspen's family a little bit of money each month, never titling it so that they couldn't return it–his family was just as proud as he was and they wouldn't accept it if they could return it. They were probably struggling, especially since Aspen was now gone and couldn't provide for them. Not that I would ever really know since I would never be able to return to my home.

At first, I'd been crushed by the news about Aspen. He'd been my first love and my best friend and he had died just before I'd managed to take charge. Still, I'd learned to move on. He'd want me to; even though there were still moments I felt the pain of his loss as if it was fresh. I never let anyone know how much I was hurting though. I hadn't cried for over three years and I didn't plan on starting any time soon.

I sighed and turned to the man in front of me and then nod to him–merely standing there and waiting for him to attack. As a general rule, I let all the men I fought with take the first hit. The male ego was such a delicate thing after all and he would probably be deeply embarrassed if he didn't get at least one of his hits in.

He didn't waste any time and sprinted forward. He punched me in the stomach, hoping for me to curl forward and stumble–as most people would do. I didn't. I merely returned the gesture with more strength.

He flinched away and took a step back. It was enough.

I swept his legs out from under him and was about to pounce when he rolled away. At least he was quick on his feet and was smart enough to move rather than simply sit there. A small smile tugged at my lips despite my reluctance, at least this one had progressed a little bit.

He got to his feet and charged for me, his fist shooting out this time. I grabbed his wrist and spun him around before throwing him down onto the mats.

He groaned and clutched his arm to his chest even as he stood and prepared to fight again, ready to push through the pain.

I shook my head and he relaxed his stance. I went over to him after a second and took his shoulder in my hand, feeling it for a moment. It had become dislocated. "Might want to hold your breath." I muttered and wrenched it back into its socket.

He grunted but was then silent.

"Sit down. Drink." I said and gestured to the cooler so he'd get that I was serious.

He nodded, understanding that he would have to sit out for the rest of the session for today.

I turned to the rest of the men in front of me. "Spar in pairs."

They quickly paired off, but Jeremy was left without a partner so I pulled him over to some mats and began sparring with him, being gentle and correcting the mistakes he made. He took in everything I said eagerly. He was a good soldier, he just needed to practice his skills and really dedicate himself to learning.

I nodded after a few rounds and he stepped back with a nod of his own.

I looked at the clock above the exit and noted the time. I could call class a little early for once. They'd worked hard today after all. "Dismissed." I called out to the room.

None of them hesitated and began to gather their things so that they could relax for the afternoon.

The people of the palace had finally become accustomed to my preference to speak few words. If they didn't or complained about how I never spoke, I wouldn't speak to them at all.

I was only required to speak more than one sentence at a time when I was assisting the royal family or their foreign visitors.

I had to do something with my free time so I'd decided to learn languages. I now knew Spanish, English, French, German, Italian, Russian, and Bulgarian. The past three years had given me plenty of time to master each language and become rather fluent in each.

Once the room had finally cleared out, I took off my sparring gloves and looked at my scarred hands. It felt strange to have my hands bare for once and it was sort of a shock to look at them again. I shook my head…the scars would always be there and it was easier to stretch without glove on.

Most of the men I trained didn't bother with stretching afterward and if they tried, then they didn't do it properly so I didn't force any of them to do it. None of them realized just how tight your muscles can get after a workout. You had to stretch before and after if you wanted better results. I'd learned the importance of stretching after I ripped a muscle in one of my lessons while I sparred with a veteran as a demonstration.

Once I finished stretching, I pulled on my special gloves. They had been made just for me so that the scarring on my hands wouldn't show; the material of my semi-gloves was firm and smooth like leather but much thinner. It covered my palms and knuckles but not my fingers. I'd become so accustomed to the material that it felt strange to have them off. I'd started wearing them when I noticed just how brutally scarred my hands were from my years of fighting. I didn't want anyone to see them–not only because they were ugly but because my mother use to comment on my beautiful hands when I would play the piano for her at a young age.

"General Jessica, the king requests your presence immediately." A man called out in a voice that I knew all too well.

I swallowed thickly but nodded. "Fine." I said just loud enough for him to hear.

I fixed my hat so that he wouldn't see my face and followed Maxon out of the room.

He'd chosen Kriss and they'd been married for a little over two years now.

Kriss had a miscarriage a few months ago. Their first child didn't make it and both of them had been too devastated to try again. I'd heard from a few maids that they were thinking about it though.

At first, I'd been really hurt. Devastated was more like it. He'd proposed to Kriss the day after my "funeral" and they'd managed to get married pretty quickly. I'd been confused in the beginning, wondering how he could move on so quickly. After a while, I'd simply come to accept the fact that he'd lied to me when he said he loved me. He'd said the same thing to Kriss during the Selection after all. He'd probably intended to marry her from the very beginning.

The only thing that confused me about him was that he had kept his promise to me. Slowly but surely, the caste system was being destroyed. Eights no longer existed and all of them had been shipped to schools so that they could receive some form of an education so that they could try and get jobs. The only ones who remained homeless now were those who had been labeled as traitors.

I just didn't get why he would bother destroying the caste system if I was "dead". It didn't make any sense since I figured he would only do it because I was around and demanded it of him. Maybe he felt like he owed me something…I just really wasn't sure.

Still, I was happy that he'd actually taken steps to destroy the caste system–they were small steps but it was still progress.

Maxon was used to my silence and didn't speak as he led me through the halls. It gave me a chance to study him for once since I'd rarely seen him over the past few years.

He'd changed over the time, losing all of his boyish features and becoming more of a man. He'd also grown a few inches, coming closer to six feet rather than his previous height of five-eight. I felt very small next to him since I was at least five inches shorter but I knew I was undoubtedly stronger than him.

He seemed happy with his life now, too. I would see him and Kriss walking through the palace sometimes, holding hands and whispering to one another. She seemed much happier than he did though but that was probably just because she didn't have to deal with all the stresses that Maxon did yet.

Maxon had yet to be crowned king, but he'd taken on many of the responsibilities of a king. His father was preparing him to take over the throne. His coronation was likely to take place sometime within the next few months though the King had yet to acknowledge the imminent event.

I myself had tried to help with some of Maxon's stress, offering myself in place of Maxon if he made a decision that the King did not like. After all these years, I still had feelings for him and I was trying to protect him from his father.

My back was scarred beyond repair anyway and I'd become accustomed to the bite of the lash against my skin. It still hurt like hell, but it was more tolerable than it had been when I'd first been put into this arrangement.

We entered the King's office and the King looked up from his desk and smiled at me, a slightly knowing smile that Maxon wouldn't notice.

I bowed to him–I hadn't curtsied since I had started working for him. I felt more in control when I bowed and it didn't put me out of balance like it did whenever I curtsied.

"You requested me?"

King Clarkson nodded as Maxon went to stand beside him. "Our friends from Russia will be coming tomorrow. They will arrive early in the morning so I want you in the ballroom by six in the appropriate attire. Understood?"

I nodded. The Russians didn't know much English and the King didn't speak Russian so I would most likely be acting as a translator for the morning. I'd have to make arrangements for someone to take care of my training sessions with the soldiers – I wouldn't let them off easy just because I had other responsibilities for one day. They'd still be grateful that I sent a replacement rather than showing up myself.

"Anything else?"

The king shook his head and waved me off.

I bowed once more, then turned on my heel and left the room. To my surprise, Maxon followed me out. After walking a short while with him following me, I sighed.

"Is there something I can do for you, Prince Maxon?"

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as I stared at him. "Yes, actually. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me some private lessons."

I stopped and looked at him, narrowing my eyes in slight suspicion. Did he really expect me to go through with this? "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" he asked, obviously irritated that I hadn't just said yes.

I just nodded and crossed my arms, waiting.

He sighed in defeat. "I just need to learn how to defend myself, how to fight back. The rebels have become much more persistent lately and I need to be able to fight. Well, I already know how to fight but–"

"No, you do not."

"How would you know?"

I shrugged and waved for him to follow me, he didn't disappoint. I entered the training room and stood near the middle. "Hit me." I demanded once I turned to him, keeping my hands flat by my sides.

"Why?"

"You'll understand. Don't stop until I say. Act as if this is a real fight."

Not needing any more encouragement, he hit me. As was customary, I did nothing to defend myself and let him have the first shot so he wouldn't be too disappointed.

Each of his next strikes landed on air as I merely stepped around them or ducked out of the way. He didn't bother trying to kick me so I didn't have to worry about protecting my legs too much.

As the "fight" continued, Maxon grew frustrated and started trying harder to land a hit on me.

This time, I blocked his hits rather than stepping around them. After a while, I grew bored and pushed him on the chest when I had an opening, watching as he fell to the floor.

I stood over him, watching him pant as sweat ran down his forehead. "Your patterns are easy to detect and you couldn't hurt a puppy with that kind of a punch. You don't know what you're doing, Prince Maxon. And it is rather offensive that you assume that I cannot protect your family. It's what my life is dedicated to."

He glared at me from the floor. I held out a hand to help him up, but he swatted it away and stood on his own. He stared at me for a long moment before sighing and hanging his head, upset because he thought I wouldn't teach him.

"I will teach you, but it will be the hardest thing you've ever done in your life. You must dedicate many hours each day to this if you want me to train you and you will most likely pass out from exhaustion on the floor for the first few weeks, not including the first. After that, you'll manage to crawl to your bed, barely. The pain will be constant; you will be bruised and sometimes bloodied. Is that what you want?" I demanded his attention, forcing him to understand that I wasn't lying when I told him it would be extremely difficult if he chose to do this. I really hoped he would just back out.

Maxon just smirked at me. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. You will arrive at five sharp. If you are even one second late, I will not train you. Understand?"

He nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and one last thing?"

He turned and raised a brow in question.

"King Clarkson is not to find out about this and while you are here you will be considered a soldier, not a prince. I will show you no mercy while we train and you will not have the authority to order me around during the hours that we are in this room."

"Of course, Jessica. I wouldn't expect anything less." With that, he finally left. I didn't miss the smile on his face. I guaranteed that by tomorrow he wouldn't be smiling at all.

I breathed out a sigh, my body pent up with frustration. Why did I agree to train him? When the King found out–and he would eventually find out–my punishment would be fierce.

Still, I couldn't help but smile as I walked back to my room. It remained on my face until I finally fell asleep.