The tiara was biting into her head, just above her ears, hard enough to bring on a headache. Alex ached to adjust it, but she knew it just wasn't done and she'd earn a stern rebuke from her father if she did. She'd just have to suffer through until the ceremony was over.

She stifled a yawn.

She'd been taking part in ceremonies like this since she was a child. Back then, it had been fun. She'd loved the dressing up, the pomp and circumstance. If she'd yawned or fidgeted, everyone had thought it was cute.

Then, as a teenager, Alex did it for her grandmother. Because her grandmother genuinely enjoyed these things, because – especially later, when she was ill – they made her smile in a way she rarely did with the pain she suffered through from her cancer.

Not like her father. He clearly persisted with the whole thing only because of the power rush it gave him. He and her brother sat there, glaring at everyone and yet secretly enjoying every minute. Her mother sat frozen, her expression unreadable, and Alex knew she'd gone to that secret place inside and wasn't even present in the room.

Off to one side, Frederick stood impassively, looking out at the crowd. Alex knew he was sending sidelong glances her way. She could feel them, like a wash of oily water over her, each time he did it.

It was the annual Gratitude Day, a special yearly feast day in Evenovia, when each member of the gentry came to express their thanks to the royal family for a year of prosperity – even when the year hadn't been so prosperous, like the one they'd just been through. Each member of the court presented the royal family with a gift as an expression of thanks. In Alex's grandmother's day, the Queen had encouraged token gifts of food or craft items. And her subjects, most of them half in love with their beautiful and magnanimous Queen, had toiled for hours baking cakes, crafting wooden toys, or knitting hats.

Now that her father had taken over the throne, the gifts had changed. Suddenly those formerly treasured handicrafts had become sneered at. Instead, courtiers were bringing gifts of gold and jewelry and even electronic gadgetry. Each more expensive than the last.

But all of a sudden, the pattern was broken. A woman in what Alex recognized as last year's fashion approached the throne and bowed low. "Your Majesty, unfortunately our estates have had a bad year, and we have not had the harvest we expected. As a gift to you I bring a cake, made with produce from our farm, and baked and decorated by my own hand."

The woman gestured and a servant appeared holding a silver platter on which sat a chocolate cake, molded into the shape of a log, a small red bird sitting on top. Powdered sugar had been sifted over it to look like snow.

"A cake," the king sneered. "Fine. Do better next year."

As Alex looked at the cake a strange feeling washed over her body. She felt faint, and then a shudder wracked through her, making her wrap her arms around herself and double over in pain.

"Alexandra?"

She felt her mother's hand on her arm, and slowly Alex blinked and stood straight again, the feeling gone as suddenly as it had appeared. She looked around to find her family – and Frederick – all staring at her with expressions of faint disgust. Only her mother's face showed concern.

"I'm fine," Alex said. "I apologize for the interruption."

The king waved and the procession continued as before.

More courtiers, more expensive gifts. A man with a blood-red velvet cape presented the King with gold skull, the hollows of the eyes fitted with glittering precious stones. A woman with bared breasts handed over a diamond shaped like a phallus. An insanely grinning man handed over a bag bulging with gold coins.

Then, once again, the pattern was broken. A man approached the king, limping heavily. He knelt with difficulty. "Sire, I have not had a good year. After my injury I was unable to work and my farm was lost to the financiers. Now I am penniless. All I have left to give you is my cane."

The man held out his wooden walking stick and, after a pause to convey his displeasure, the King waved and the cane was taken away.

As she watched the cane carried out of the room by a servant, Alex felt the same sensation again. A faintness, as if the world around her was dimming, followed by a sharp, seizing pain, like an electric current going through her. Again, she doubled over, and she could hear the whispering of the court around her as she struggled for breath.

"Princess, are you not fit for your duties?" her father asked, his tone sharp.

Alex struggled to pull herself together, standing straight again and smoothing out her skirt. She took a deep breath and gave her father a short bow. "My apologies Father, I am fine. Please continue."

The whispering subsided and the procession began again as Alex tried to figure out what was going on. She felt fine, apart from those strange seizures. Maybe she needed to see the court doctor. Perhaps the stress of trying to avoid Frederick's wandering hands was finally breaking her.

As Alex turned her attention back to the ceremony, a man walked up the red carpeted aisle, a baby in his arms. "Princess Alexandra?" he called out.

The gathered court gasped – it was a complete break of protocol. Not only had he yelled out at a member of the royal family, he'd addressed the Princess before addressing the King! What arrogance!

Alex felt dizzy and she put a hand on her mother's throne to steady herself.

"Princess Alexandra!" he called again.

Almost against her will, Alex found herself taking a step forward to see the man more clearly.

"What is going on?" her father demanded. "Guards, get this man out of here!"

"No! Let him approach," Alex said, knowing that her public contradiction of her father would earn her a hefty penalty later.

The guards who had moved forward at her father's command hesitated and Alex stepped down from the podium where the royal family was gathered, walking down the red carpet towards the strange man. The court erupted in whispering – surely nothing this exciting had happened on Gratitude Day since someone had brought the Queen a flock of trained doves that, startled by the number of people and bright lights, had rather distressingly beaten themselves to death trying to fly out the closed windows.

"Princess Alexandra, I am here with a message for you," the man said as she approached.

He looked familiar, somehow, but Alex couldn't place him. She took a few more steps until they were close enough to reach out and touch each other.

"Sir, you are very bold to appear like this. It must be an important message."

"It is a matter of life and death," he said gravely. The baby in his arms twisted around and smiled at Alex.

"Your child is beautiful."

"This is my son," he said.

The little boy reached out to Alex, squirming in his father's arms. Without really understanding why, Alex put her hands out and took the baby, settling him on her hip. He snuggled tight to her, instantly comfortable, resting his head on her breast.

"What is this message?" Alex asked.

"It is about a decision you must make."

Alex felt one of those same shudders take her, but this time the pain wasn't so bad, it seemed to come from a distance. She sucked in a breath and then it passed. Somehow, she knew, being close to this man and his son was making the pain go away.

"You are saving me," she said, uncertain what her words meant even as they passed her lips.

The man smiled and Alex's heart grew warm. She couldn't help smiling back, suddenly filled with a happy, peaceful feeling. The child she was holding was so comforting and reassuring, she felt like she never wanted to let him go.

"I can save you. Or I cannot. The decision is yours."

"I don't know," Alex said, uncertain what he meant.

He smiled gently at her confusion. "You can come with me or you can stay here."

"I want to go with you," Alex said instantly. An escape from her royal prison? A release from her promised future of unhappiness with Frederick? Of course she wanted to leave.

"Be sure you know what it is you are leaving behind, Princess," the man said, his smile turning grim.

"I am Princess Alexandra Maria Feliciana Di Giorgio, Princess of Evenovia," she said. "I know what I am leaving behind."

The man didn't say anything, but the look he gave her was sad, almost tearful.

A wave of pain swept over Alex and she gasped, but even her in-drawn breath didn't ease it. Her chest felt hot and tight and agonizing, and she realized she couldn't breathe. Each breath came shallowly, barely giving her enough oxygen to remain standing. She swayed and the baby in her arms cried out in surprise.

She started to struggle for breath, and the man just stood, waiting patiently, as if he expected it.

"You . . . should . . . take the baby . . ." she said between gasps.

"He's safe," the man said. "He's with me."

"But . . . what about . . ." Alex started.

"Your daughter?" the man finished.

Her daughter? Alex swayed again, pain shooting through her, and this time the man stepped forward. He wrapped her in his arms and eased her to the floor, resting her body against himself, shifting the baby so they both shared his weight.

"It's time to decide Alex. You can come with me, or you can stay here," he said gently, his voice soft in her ear.

Alex shook her head. Why would she want to stay here? She looked around at the gathered court, all the courtiers and servants and guards and even her family, staring at her. None of them moved to help, no one called for the doctor, no one questioned her lying in the middle of the throne room in a man's arms, gasping for breath.

"Oh, Kevin," she said, wondering how she knew the man's name. And yet as she said it, a thousand emotions swamped over her, drowning her in their intensity. Love, grief, pain, loss, joy. It was too much, far too much. "I can't . . ." she whispered, barely enough air inside her to form the words.

"You can, if you want to, my love," he said.

A light in the corner of the room grew brighter and brighter, taking over Alex's field of vision until it washed out the throne room and every person in it, even her father. Even Frederick.

Then, a face. Haloed against the light. It was so bright she couldn't make out the features, only the eyes. The blue eyes.

Her fallen angel.

And Alex suddenly remembered the angelic little girl who'd inherited those same blue eyes from her father.

"If you really love him, you'll let him save you," Kevin said quietly.

Alex could feel her body grow weak from lack of air. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe, and yet somehow she couldn't. She suddenly understood the man's – Kevin's – message, and knew the choice she had to make. It had nothing to do with a royal family or an enforced marriage to Frederick – they were all merely illusions. And yet, if none of that was real, then what was this?

For a moment, she closed her eyes and soaked in the familiar, long-lost feeling of being wrapped in her husband's arms, of holding her son close to her. It was so good. Perfect. Almost.

She twisted her head to look up at her husband and gave him a sad smile. "I have to stay, Kevin."

He nodded. "I know."

She bent down and pressed a kiss to the baby's head, inhaling his familiar scent. She felt the tears bunch in a knot in her throat.

"It's going to hurt, my love," Kevin said, his arms tightening around her.

Alex nodded and realized how fast and shallow her breathing had become. "Hold . . . me . . ." she panted.

"I will. I always will."

Alex's chest exploded in pain, an agony so intense she could hear it buzzing in her ears. And then the world went black.

-

-

House looked up when his office door opened, knowing his weariness was etched on his face. If it was another visitor full of sympathy and empty words, he was seriously going to throw something.

"Hi."

The one-word greeting shocked House into silence, not so much at the salutation itself, but at the man giving it.

"Javier?" House managed to say finally. As his voice returned, so did his anger, and he reached for the nearest object and flung it violently at the man. As it turned out it was his over-sized red-and-grey ball, and all it did was hit the wall next to the large man and bounce off ineffectually.

Javier held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Get the fuck out," House spat.

"Marquez didn't send me."

House fell back into his chair, limp with fury, but still aware enough to be careful that the chair didn't roll into the car seat tucked under his desk where a sleeping Tilly lay. He hadn't let the baby out of his sight for three days now. She even accompanied him to the men's room.

"And that's supposed to be a good thing?" House asked.

"I'm sorry, man," Javier said, his voice low, as he approached the desk.

"For what happened? Or for running out?" House hadn't seen the other man since the paramedics had arrived. Javier had got up to answer the door to them and never returned.

"I had to leave. One of the boss's rules."

"Oh sure. I guess he's happy with himself."

"He's pretty broken up."

"Poor bastard," House muttered, not in the least sympathetic.

"Santino was his friend."

"Some friend."

"Exactly." Javier sat down uninvited, but House was too tired and too drained to protest. An uncomfortable silence descended.

"You'll be safe now," Javier said eventually.

"Excuse me for not feeling very reassured by that."

"Well, you should. Marquez won't even monitor you anymore."

"What?" Marquez? Alex's father was having them followed?

"Longest surveillance operation I've ever done. Over a year of trailing you both, monitoring your phone calls. Learned a lot, though," he added thoughtfully.

"It was you following us?" House managed to sputter.

Javier shrugged. "Sometimes me, sometimes other people. Sometimes Santino."

"Wait, you mean Marquez had his own daughter under surveillance?" House asked, wanting to be sure he had it right. And yet he remembered now that Alex's father had somehow known he was a doctor without being told. Bastard must know everything there was to know about him.

"For your protection," Javier said. "He'd heard that some fuck was gonna to try a repeat of what happened last time, 'cause Alex weren't being monitored by the FBI anymore. They stopped a year after, well, after the last time. Marquez only had his real trusted people on the job – except he didn't know that it was Santino who was doing the planning. He didn't know it was Santino who was behind it last time."

"But you did?"

"I suspected. And then Marquez called me in after you talked to him, 'cause he didn't like what you told him about Santino waving to you from the car. I was gonna be with my family for the holidays, but I hadn't gone, I stayed close because I suspected Santino was gonna to make his move on Christmas. I couldn't let Santino know I was watching you too, though, so had to sit out in the snow in your neighbor's yard and wait long enough to make it seem I'd come from the city. Fuck it was cold, man." Javier gave a shudder at the memory. "Santino was pissed that Marquez called me instead of him. Because they're so close he expected that if anything like that happened, Marquez would call him as the point man, not me. So he had to explain what was going on to me – offered to buy me in if I did as he said."

"And you went along with it—"

"Yeah, just until I had a chance to take him out."

"You should have done it sooner," House said, his voice flat, knowing that it was pointless to wish otherwise.

"Yeah, I shouldda."

Silence descended again for a moment.

"What was in the package?" House asked, realizing it was the one last unanswered piece of the puzzle.

"Nothin'."

"What do you mean?"

Javier shrugged. "Nothin'. It was empty. Marquez intercepted it before it was sent. He knew somethin' was goin' on. Just didn't know who was behind it."

"But he still allowed it to be sent to Alex. To our home."

Javier shrugged. "Yeah."

House shook his head in disbelief.

"I've done somefink for you." Javier looked down at his hands. "Don't tell the boss, but I had Alex listed permanently as a 'person of interest' with the FBI. I gotta contact there. It means you'll be monitored. Your mail might get opened, sometimes your phone calls will be listened in to. But no one from Argentina will ever try anything like this ever again. Not even Marquez. It'll be too risky."

"Thanks. I think."

"Just don't go ordering no illegal porn or nothing like that," Javier tried to joke.

House didn't laugh.

"And I'm gonna keep my eye on you guys – nothin' intrusive or nothin', but I'll just watch out for ya."

House didn't know what to say. Thank you seemed both unnecessary and inappropriate.

"Well . . . I gotta go." Javier got to his feet and stood, shuffling awkwardly. "I gotta question for you, though, before I go. Do you think . . . ?"

House stared up blankly.

"I know it sounds stupid, but . . . I liked listening in on your calls. It was real interesting. Sometimes after I listened to you talking I'd go on the internet and look up the shit you were talking about. Man, you get some weird stuff! Anyway, I was thinkin', maybe I might go back to college. I'm too dumb to be a doctor, but maybe I could be a nurse? I like lookin' after people, and I'm okay with blood and stuff . . ." Javier trailed off.

House opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Anyway, if I do, and if I graduate, do you reckon you might help me out with a job? Just put in a good word for me or somefink?"

House stared up at the man in front of him – just a boy, really, a baby hitman with a gangster past who wanted to become a nurse. It was too absurd for words. "Yeah, sure," he said, shrugging. Who knew? It couldn't hurt to keep someone like Javier owing him a favor.

Javier looked relieved. "Thanks, man, appreciate it. Well, see ya. Take care. You and the bubba."

House watched as the guy left, his frame large enough that he had to turn slightly sideways to get out the door. House sat back in the chair and ran his hands over his face, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked down at the car seat tucked next to his feet and to the sleeping infant curled up inside. Her breathing was louder than normal, her nose and chest still congested by her cold, but the noise was reassuring, rhythmic and comforting.

"Shall we go visit Mommy?" House asked the sleeping baby.

Not surprisingly, she didn't answer.