"That Guard seems to have taken quite a liking to you."

I left Asher to close the door to my room. I hadn't even been sure he'd follow me in once I'd ducked inside. But he had, not seeming to worry much about either one of our reputations. There hadn't been anyone in the corridor, but it didn't mean someone hadn't seen us. There were cameras everywhere.

There was already a fire lighting the room, which the maids must have built up for me before they'd left for supper. I was grateful for the warmth emanating from the dancing flames as Asher's icy gaze settled on me.

"His name is Rolan." I told him.

His eyes tightened with annoyance.

Hiding a grin, I sat on the couch so I could undo the straps on my shoes. Grateful to be finally free, I kicked them away.

I sensed rather than saw him move closer, leaning against the back of the armchair that faced me.

"I don't care." He announced.

"Then why'd you say anything?"

His teeth clenched, and he spoke his next words through them. "You've caused an awful lot of trouble, love."

"I've heard."

"Rolan, no doubt." He muttered, and he clearly didn't want any confirmation of the fact. "My mother spoke to you?"

"She did."

"Not nicely, I assume."

"Not exactly."

We stared at each other. He wanted to yell, I could see it in his quivering fists. Could see it in the way he bit his lip and tapped his foot. I wanted to yell right back, especially for the way he'd let his sister be treated, and for the way he'd treated me.

But it had been a long night. I didn't have the energy to scream at him, nor for another brawl.

Before he could open his mouth, I stood.

He watched me, wary, as I moved towards him, bare feet slapping quietly on the wooden floor.

"Unzip me?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. I didn't want to sound too suggestive, lest he get the wrong idea. But neither did I want to sound too threatening, in case he took it as a test.

Still, his expression darkened. I could see the struggle on his face as he thought through my request. Was I being suggestive? Was it an invitation? Or was it a simple power play? Was it politer to say no, or to undo my dress? His eyebrows crinkled with frustration, unsure.

By then I was already in front of him, having circled around the armchair to stand at his elbow. He turned with me, so we were stood face to face by the time I'd reached him. With a twitch of my eyebrows, I turned to allow him access to the zip.

I sensed him step closer to me, felt the press of his body heat against my back.

Though the zip was subtle - hidden - Asher found it immediately. Of course, I didn't doubt that a Prince would have had many opportunities to practice undoing a dress.

His knuckles settled at the apex of my spine. Cushioned between my shoulder blades.

He started to drag the zipper downwards.

He didn't brush my hair aside, as he might have done if we were more intimate. Though for this I was thankful. Had he moved it away, he'd have had a plain view of the raised, jagged ridges of scars littering my back. That, I felt certain, would have raised more than one question.

I felt the thrum of the zipper's movement all the way down the path of my spine. He was careful not to brush my skin. Though... I did feel the briefest of touches. One soft skim of his thumb, there for only a moment, at the very base of my spine as the zip came to it's journeys end.

I'm sure he felt me shudder. Or at the very least saw my shoulders tremble.

I took a measured step away and turned to face him. Making sure to hold my chest so that the now loose material didn't slide down my body.

Asher was staring at me.

I met his gaze, though that certainly seemed like the wrong idea. His eyes were dark, thrown into shadow as he frowned deeply. Rose pink had rushed into his cheeks in the time it had taken him to undo my dress. It settled into his high cheekbones, softening the hard angles. His hands were open, fingers twitching as if he was still in the middle of reaching for me.

I wondered what would happen if I were to drop my dress. I dismissed the ridiculous idea with venom, cursing myself.

My hands clenched on the bundled material at my chest. I wasn't going to drop it. The dress was staying on my body. To drive the point home in my own mind, I turned my hands into fists around the delicate folds.

Asher's eyes flashed down to catch that movement. The blush deepened. His lips parted. His eyes stayed pinned on my hands. Unbelievably, he swallowed. I watched with rapt attention as his Adam's apple fluttered in his throat.

With a steadying breath, I turned and darted into my bedroom.

I discarded my dress and hurriedly changed into bedclothes. For me that normally meant a simple baggy shirt. It only reached the middle of my thighs.

The maids never seemed bothered when they saw me wearing this in the evenings. But tonight it made me pause.

After that incident out there, emerging in nothing but a shirt might seem a little...

With a sigh, I retrieved a pair of shorts from a drawer. Hardly better; their hem just peeked out from beneath the shirt. They were all I had, them or I changed into a floor length nightdress provided by the palace.

That was out of the question, so the shorts would have to do.

I paused again. Eager as I was to get back out there, I was still sporting the look I'd worn for the Report. Hasty, I dragged a brush through my hair. That got rid of the setting spray holding the style in place. Though my hair was still ramrod straight; my curls would only return after a shower. I rubbed that miracle cream into my face too, washing off the swatches of make up with a spare cloth lying on my vanity.

I braced myself with hands on the door handles. I could have a rational conversation with Asher. It couldn't be that hard. I'd kept my cool with the Queen (for the most part), I could keep my cool with Asher.

I dismissed what had happened before. I'd only asked him to undo my dress to defuse the argument I could feel brewing. I'd done it to distract him. Nothing more.

Still, I hadn't expected that small rush of... Well, whatever. It didn't matter. I hated Asher. Asher hated me.

Yanking open the door to the living room, I moved with purpose. I could handle whatever Asher was ready to throw at me. It's not like he was distracting, or anything like that.

My eyes found him like he was half magnet and they were made of metal. Almost out of spite, I tried not to stare. But... There was no denying that Asher Schreave was an attractive man.

When I saw him for the first time, he'd been drenched in silver from the moon. Now, stood with an elbow braced upon my fireplace, he was dripping in gold.

Unfair... So unfair.

The fire caused the shadows of his face to deepen, turning him from an ordinary man to a creature who'd been chiseled from marble. That bone structure was just... Otherworldly. His eyes weren't pale blue anymore but instead a frenzied orange. Frightening in their intensity. His hair had been brightened to tarnished gold, soft as spun silk. Even his shadow was imposingly big, thrown onto the wall behind him. Exaggerating that defined, toned body of his.

Nobody could blame me for finding him attractive. Not anyone at home, not anyone here. Sure, he was an asshole, and sure, I disliked him with every atom of my being, but...

But I stared at him. Drenched in liquid gold and blessed by the writhing firelight. In that moment, in any moment, I couldn't have told you that Asher Shcreave wasn't beautiful even if it meant my life.

He turned away from the fire at the sound of the doors clattering behind me. He stopped for a moment, seeming taken aback. No doubt by my horrendous attire.

With a deep breath, I crossed the room to take a seat on the couch, which wasn't pointed at the fire like the armchair was. This gave me a reason to look away from him. I folded my bare feet under me and folded my hands into my lap. The picture of calm.

Asher watched every movement I made. Eyes on me from the moment I stepped into the room to the moment I fell still on the couch. I was ready and prepared for whatever he would say to me next.

Strangely, he didn't immediately start speaking. But continued to stare, sweeping my frame with those startling orange eyes. His gaze lingered at the tattoos on my shins and my face made bare with the removal of make up.

"You asked to see me?" I prompted.

He sighed, trance broken, and turned back to the fire, tucking his hands behind his back. "I don't want to yell at you."

"Why? I thought it was a hobby of yours."

He cut me a glance, eyes narrowing. At the sight of my amused smile, he relaxed. Just messing around. I guessed people didn't make an effort to joke with him often, if he didn't easily recognise a teasing tone.

"A hobby, perhaps, but not a habit." He shook his head, "But you must understand how dire the situation is-"

"Which one? I understand I'm involved in one too many situations right now."

"Stop joking!" He demanded, rounding on me. His hands balled up at his sides, chest puffing under the layers of his fine suit. He was frowning again. "Don't you understand how serious this all is?"

"Don't you understand how much I want to go home?"

"No." He said immediately, teeth clenched again. "No, I don't understand that at all."

"It shouldn't be too hard to comprehend." I narrowed my eyes. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now."

"What doesn't?"

"You keeping me here in the name of charity. Your mother is going to send me home. Tonight, probably, tomorrow at the latest."

"That's what she said?" His eyebrows climbed up into the floppy mess of golden hair. He'd shook it loose from it's usual slick style.

"She said she'd speak to you. If you refused to send me home, she'd go to the King. If he agreed that he didn't want me here, they'd ignore your wishes and send me away." I couldn't help the smug grin I gave him, crossing my arms victoriously over my chest.

"Huh." He turned abruptly towards the fire again. Before he turned his face away, I saw the distinct curve of a smirk.

"What?"

He didn't reply.

"What?" I demanded.

"My mother already spoke to my father." He kept his voice measured as he said it. He looked round in time to see me seize up, in fear and horror. "He... They disagreed. My father doesn't want to throw you out, love."

My face must have dropped dangerously, because he held up his hands. "That conversation had nothing to do with me." He said quickly, faltering back a step. There must have been murder in my eyes. "I didn't even know they were discussing it. My father made the decision without any input from me."

"You're lying." I whispered.

I stood from my curled position on the couch. I didn't know if I was going to break his nose or burst into tears. Break his nose first, and then burst into tears. That was a good plan.

"You're still here, aren't you?" He shrugged his broad shoulders.

I was hyperventilating. How was this possible? I'd made a fool of myself on national television! In front of hundreds of thousands of people! The Queen herself had told me I was going home! How was it possible? How could this happen?!

"It's your fault." I accused, my voice was inching towards hysterical. "You... You got to him before she did! You convinced him to keep me on as a fucking charity case, didn't you?"

"I told you I didn't!" He threw up his hands, exasperated. "My father wouldn't do that. He's a good man. He'd be appalled if he knew... Well, he's not like me."

"Not a damn prick?" I demanded, taking a threatening step towards him. He didn't retreat. "Not a fucking asshole intent on ruining my life?!" I was shouting now.

"You're being a little dramatic."

"Dramatic, huh?" I grabbed a book left on the little side table next to the couch. He spotted it in my hands as I spun, and ducked in time as I launched it.

It sailed over his head and slapped loudly against the wall. I already had another in hand. I'd retrieved a whole stack from the library the day before and I was thankful.

I lobbed that one too. He yelped as this one clipped his shoulder. Paperback though, not good enough.

"Eris, for Illéa's sake- Ow!" The next one caught his thigh with a solid thump. He batted the next one aside with his palm.

"You don't know anything!" I shouted, "I'm overreacting? You're controlling my life!"

"Surely you know that staying here is the best thing for your family! Think of the funds you're sending home!"

"We don't need your fucking charity!" The next book missed, slapped aside by him, but the one after that followed too swift for him to hit aside. It him square in the stomach, and he stumbled back. "As if you give a shit about them anyway!"

"You're being ridiculous! You're the one that makes life here difficult! You're the one that tears about the palace, completely wild, breaking rules! If you weren't such a stubborn, idiotic menace, you might not be so miserable!"

I'd run out of books, so I chucked all the pillows at him. Those weren't nearly as effective as the books.

"Who are you to tell me anything?" I yelled. "You're selfish, cruel, a downright bastard-!"

"Like you're any better than me!" He caught the pillow I hurled at him and flung it right back. The force of it hitting my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs, but I recovered quickly.

"At least I have a few redeeming qualities! You on the other hand-"

"You don't even know me!"

"Well enough to know that you're a damn-"

"Don't you fucking think about throwing that at me."

The tone of his voice, a deadly growl, shocked me enough that I glanced down at what I was holding. Not a pillow, but the shoes I'd discarded on the floor. I didn't even remember bending to pick them up.

I glanced up to narrow my eyes at him.

"I dare you, love." He snarled, lip curling in loathing.

Drawing back my hand to better gather more power and momentum, I took a breath to hurl it.

But at that exact moment, with my arm raised aloft to fling my shoe at his stupid, big head, an alarm sounded.

An alarm that shrieked with panic. It was so loud I dropped the shoes to throw my hands over my ears. It wasn't just my room; it was the corridor beyond, it was the whole damn palace, awake and screeching in hysterics.

"What the fuck is that?"

Asher hadn't even covered his ears. He straightened up out of the defensive stance he'd been hunched in, and was looking around wildly.

He met my eyes with fear reflected brightly in his own. "It's an early warning alarm. It means rebels are in the palace."

"Holy shit."

My head was spinning. Not exactly in fear. Perhaps panic. Maybe even a little bit of hysteria.

I was in the presence of the Prince of Illéa.

I could look after myself. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't exactly likely that I'd be a prime target for the rebels. But the Prince?

If they knew he was alone, unprotected, with no one but a silly Selection girl as a witness...?

If the rebels found us, they'd kill Asher. They'd kidnap him. They could hold the entire country to ransom if they found out that he was in such a vulnerable position.

With my mind racing at a hundred miles a minute and my heartbeat thundering in my chest, I made a quick, snap decision. A simple one, but one that could end my life or change it.

The decision? To protect the Prince of Illéa.

"Quick." The command was more to get myself moving than him.

Rushing as fast as I could, I fetched a jug of water from my bathroom and upended it over the fire in the living room. The icy spray assaulted my unprotected shins and feet, but I barely felt the chill.

"What're you doing?" He hissed.

"If there's light coming from this room, any rebels that get into the palace will check to see if someone's in here." I told him. When I glanced sideways at his face, he seemed surprised at my quick logic. I actually saw him swallow his sarcastic comment before it rose to his lips. No doubt something about me being smarter than I looked.

I moved to lock my living room door. Considered shoving the couch in front of it, but that would only be a hindrance if we had to get out of the room quickly. When I popped my head out to check, I found the corridor completely empty. Not even any distant sounds.

The balcony doors revealed nothing, just a half view into the public gardens. The rebels wouldn't be coming from within them anyway. They'd be coming, no doubt, from the vast expanse of forests that backed onto the palace grounds. That forest extended for miles and miles. It was so dense that it was considered suicide to venture into it unprepared. Soldiers patrolled that wilderness, but it wouldn't be all that hard to slip past in the dark. As these rebels had obviously managed to do.

"Come on." I herded him into my bedroom, hoping that might drown out the noise a little. The closed doors cut off some of the hollering, enough for us to hear ourselves think, at least.

There was no light except from the sluggish blue tinge from the moon outside my windows. I could barely see Asher's outline.

"What's the usual protocol for a rebel attack?" I asked over my shoulder as I started to tear through the room.

His shadowed form shifted. "We're escorted to the nearest set of tunnels that lead us underground to the safety bunkers."

"But you're here, so can't be escorted." I rubbed a hand over my aching eyes, "And no one has come to collect me."

"You're alone on this corridor." He said helplessly, "The three other girls who'd had suites here have gone home. You won't be the priority for a while. If the rebels have already got close enough to be in the palace, Guards will try to save as many as they can as fast as they can."

"And running to find one girl wastes resources." I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I understand that. Do you know where the nearest tunnels are?"

"No. I know only the ones nearest my own wing. Those tunnels lead to the main underground chamber where the Royal family have to wait. Only the highest in command know the positions of all the tunnels, just in case someone is captured and, well..." He shrugged.

"What do the rebels do? When they get into the palace?"

"It's not like the Northern Rebels, all those years ago. They simply want us dead and gone. They come in, destroy things, kill as many as they can, and then they leave. They're well organised. They've got basic weapons, nothing military grade, but they're efficient. High-tech, often short out the electricity, the security systems, the cameras. All of it."

"Do they stick to one area? Do they always target the same places? Is there any pattern to it at all?"

"Not that we've been able to figure out. But uncle Aspen does speculate that they're trying to find our safety bunker. Some of the Guards go missing on occasion, or some of the soldiers wind up with signs of torture. They want to know where to focus their attacks the hardest, but they've never found the tunnels."

My search turned up nothing. Absolutely nothing. Of course, there wouldn't be. What would a Selection girl need a weapon for? A fire poker out in the living room, that was the extent of my options. Bollocks.

As I turned back to Asher, the alarm cut out mid squeal. From the tightening of Asher's shoulders, it seemed that wasn't supposed to happen. So they'd got into the system, but hopefully hadn't yet made it into the palace.

We needed a plan, and fast.

This room wasn't exactly kitted out to withstand an attack. If the rebels got wind that Asher was missing, if the Guards let that information slip... Everyone would be looking for him. The best plan would be to get him to a secure location as soon as possible.

"Darling, stop for a second." Asher's big hands snagged my arms, and braced on my shoulders to pin me in place. The gentle touch surprised me. "We're going to be okay."

I almost laughed. "I know."

"Oh." His hands fell away, and I saw his frown even in the dark. "How do you know?" Despite the fact he had been trying to reassure me, I heard the tremor in his question.

I was certain he saw the glint of my smile, even in the gloom. "Because I know what I'm capable of."

He blinked. "You know, love, I should be embarrassed by how much you frighten me."

"Why aren't you?"

"Because I feel my fear of you is justified."

Chuckling, I moved around him and back into the living room. "Keep that in mind the next time you piss me off."

"What're you doing?" He demanded, following me back into the living room.

"We have to go, Asher."

"Excuse me?"

"If word gets out that you're missing, every single rebel will be looking for you. We have to act fast, and get to a more secure location."

"What we have to do is stay put until Guards come to collect you. When they see that I'm here too, we'll be evacuated to a safe room immediately."

"After all the trouble I've caused, and your mother's particular dislike for me, nobody is rushing to save me."

"That's not true."

"Did you tell anyone you were coming to see me?"

"No." He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. I could feel the ferocity of his scowl, even if I couldn't see it.

"And when it's discovered you're not in your rooms, all efforts will be put into finding you. Nobody is coming for me."

"Don't be-"

"I'm not being ridiculous! I'm being realistic! This is a life or death situation, and if we stay here and get cornered, we will die. Do you understand that?" I grabbed his shoulders, squeezed hard to make sure he got my point. "I may not be important in the grand scheme of things, but you are. You're the Prince of Illea, and if they capture you they will do horrendous things. Do you understand that?"

"Of course I do," His hands gripped my wrists, more gentle than my hands held him. "But love, I'm barely trained. I could hold my own in a fight, maybe, if I were against a single man. I can't protect you, Eris."

This time, I did laugh. Quiet though, so as not to offend him too deeply. But it was funny; it had been a long time since I'd been seen as someone who needs protection. Of course, people back home were well aware of my reputation, but Asher had no way of knowing.

"I can handle myself." Is all I told him.

"I'm sure you think that-"

Voices in the corridor cut him off. We both froze, bodies locking in fear and panic. I could hear heavy footfalls on carpet, coming closer but not rushing.

I grabbed Asher by the collar and dragged him, forcefully, across the room. He had to bend at the waist to accommodate my height, but didn't actually try to shake me loose. We hurtled behind the couch. I did my best to squish his big body into the shadows the chunky furniture offered.

Heart pounding, I grabbed his face and held it close to mine, so we were practically nose to nose. The proximity allowed me to see the proper blue of his eyes. Made more startling because of how wide they were with undiluted terror. We were both panting, short of breath, sharing the hot air between our mouths.

"Stay here." I whispered. "Stay down. Do not fucking move."

With the warning delivered, I slithered out from behind the couch. Lunged for the fireplace. Groped around the base for the long metal poker; the best weapon this room offered. The water I'd splashed over the logs still covered the floor. I rolled away from the mess so that my feet wouldn't make any sound against the wooden boards.

Weapon in hand, I darted across the room to take up a stance beside the door. If the stars had mercy, whoever was stomping down the corridor would keep on stomping. If the stars were feeling extra kind, it would be a Guard, come to collect me.

In any case, I wasn't going to stand around unprepared. The door would swing open wide and cover me, so whoever stepped into the room would find it empty. If they wore a Guards uniform, I'd reveal myself and the three of us would hurry to the safety bunkers. If it was a rebel...

The boots got louder. Whoever it was wasn't approaching with stealth.

Just go past. Just go past. Just go-

The boots stopped right outside my door.

The handle twisted. Locked. The door rattled in it's frame when the person gave it a shove, then a kick. My breathing grew heavy. Adrenaline settled into my limbs, warming my blood, I could taste metal in the back of my mouth-

The bang of a gunshot made my ears ring. The lock on my door exploded, sparks flying, nearly singeing my bare legs.

It was all I could do to choke down a squeak of fear. But I didn't move.

Didn't even breathe as the door swung open.

A low light filtered in from the corridor, and the shadow that fell into the light was shaped like a man. The dull thud of his boots against the wood of the floor as he stepped into the room. Not far, enough to glance around.

"Hey." His voice, deep, gruff, made me jump. Static crackled through the air, then a small click, and then, "Sure you got it right? Second floor? Southern corridor?"

More static, a click- "Course I'm sure."

"All these rooms're fucking empty, you got me chasing shadows."

A radio. He was talking over a radio. I'd never used one, but Gruks back home in Fames carried them on their belts.

"You checked 'em proper?"

"Course I have, you damn moron."

"Well, there's not been one sightin' of her! So check 'em again!"

A click, louder than the previous ones, as the rebel in my doorway turned his radio off completely.

Her? Were they looking for someone specific? Who could be important enough that the rebels would send one of their own looking in enemy territory?

The rebel stepped further into the room. Not far enough that I could see him around the edge of the door. Maybe he wouldn't check properly. But I knew, without a doubt, if he moved to check in my bedroom, he would spot Asher behind the couch.

I heard the man sigh in annoyance, grumble under his breath, and then he started into the room.

My stomach lurched.

Edging around the door, I caught sight of the rebel. He was heading for my bedroom. Slowly, glancing around the place, aiming for the open door. If he got there and glanced sideways, he'd see Asher.

Fucking damn everything in this whole universe.

Silent, I slipped from the cover of the door and approached from behind. Keeping my weight low, my feet quick, I was behind him in seconds.

He must have sensed my presence, or heard my shallow breaths, because he froze. Started to wrench around, the beginnings of a shout erupting, hand reaching for his thigh-

I brought the poker down, hard, fast, right into the side of his skull.

The shout evaporated like smoke. His eyes rolled back in his head and down he went.

I caught him on the way down, grunting under his weight, and lowered him to the floor. I'd opened up a wound at his temple, but it wasn't deep enough to kill him. He'd have one banging headache though.

Now that I wasn't completely overwhelmed by my own fear, I could see that he had a head full of shocking red hair.

"Stars above, Eris." Asher emerged from behind the couch. His eyes wide as he found me crouched over the rebel, hands riffling through his clothes.

"How good is your aim?" I unclipped the sturdy handgun from the holder at his thigh.

"Adequate."

"Better than mine, then. You take it." I passed it over, and he took it like he was comfortable with the feel of it in his hands, which was a small blessing. "It's not my weapon of choice, anyway."

"What is?" He grimaced like he didn't want to know.

In response, I jerked the pair of long, sharp daggers from the belt of the rebel. Asher's mouth dropped open. I flashed him a grin as I stood.

"Time to go."

Thank you for reading! Xo