Two spies.

Two.

"That's impossible."

Another tear rolled down Ji-Yu's cheek. "It's not. It's truth. Jun, I… I'm so sorry."

But the words weren't registering. He refused to, after all he'd been through.

There was one. Her name was Skylar Davenport. She had no comrades, no allies amongst her enemies. She worked alone.

But the starkness of both his mother's words and Gemima Chi's face sold the truth more than anything. Even as his traitorous heart began to beat faster, faster, faster as the weight of the news travelled through his body like lead, he repeated the implausibility of it all. It was false. A lie. Unreal.

"But… but it can't be…" he whispered at first, then he found himself yelling. Screaming, almost. "It can't be! How is it possible? She just… I found her! The spy! We know who she is!"

"Our sources have returned that they're still receiving intel from right in the heart of the palace," said Gemima. Cold, cool, but teetering on the edge of a tremor. "Someone's blowing whistles."

"Then it's staff!" Roy said. "Not a Selected. Like Acketeer!"

"The details are too precise. The rebels know what the Selected are doing, day in and day out. They know about the party we've held in honour of your aunt and grandparents. They know it is pink-themed."

How could they know? From the other side of the country?

He ran a hand through his hair, scalp peeling with sweat. "I… this is impossible…"

Would he have to go through it all again? The hidden agenda of his Selection? The pain of betrayal?

A gun to his forehead?

He fell back against the wall as the memories assaulted him from every angle. Shut his eyes, but the nightmares were still there. That barrel, pressed to his skin in waiting. Newton's Wife, taunting him, finger caressing the trigger.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, spiralling him back to earth. Rudy. He'd been quiet during the whole ordeal. "I'm sorry, though it means nothing," he said, but he didn't lose his confidence. "We can get through this."

Ji-Yu wiped her face with the sleeve of her old hanbok. It came away wet. "Yes, we must." She drew in a shaky breath, cheeks blotchy. "God, even if we have to do this whole charade again, we're going to find this damn spy, and kill her the moment we know for sure."

Instead of playing the waiting game, they were hunters, sniffing out their prey.

"How're we even going to find her?"

"Are you still in possession of the Board?" asked Gemima.

"Yes," answered Rudy. "We still have it, though with the intention of repurposing it to help His Highness with his decision of whom he intends to choose at the end of the Selection."

"Scrap that idea," Ji-Yu said. Furious, hard as steel. "No. If we have to stalk the hallways, meet every day and compare notes, then we damn well will. This spy isn't making it another step further."

Even the newfound strength in the room, the willingness to seek justice no matter how difficult, didn't help straighten his spine. He leant his head against the wall, wishing, for once, he could be somewhere else. Someone else.

One of his Elite wanted him dead.

Nine girls, now. Just nine. His task should've been easier than ever.

But now he was more attached to all of them than before. Perhaps, like Roy for Delia, forging stronger feelings than just chemistry and infatuation.

"And Dad?" he spoke, his voice brittle with emotion. "What about Dad? Do we tell him?"

Rudy and Gemima looked at Ji-Yu. In the fragment of time, her face warred with conflict. Telling him, over not. How would he react to such news? Was it worth it?

"No," she said at last. "At least, not yet. This time of year… it's… not good for him. I don't want to stress him further."

Diantha's death, a son not yet recovered, and another undercover rebel. It would destroy him, like it was already decaying Roy from the inside out.

"We'll wait until her death anniversary has passed," continued Ji-Yu. "Hopefully the spy will be eliminated by then. And we can get back to our lives without looking over our shoulders."

His life pre-Selection seemed a distant time and place, far from here and now.

"We need a plan. We need a way to kick-start our search." Ji-Yu searched everyone for answers. "Ideas?"

How many traps and stakeouts would they have to set to find more dead ends again? It was going to be a repeat of last time, with boundless hints and endless suspicion but no real substance until the very last moment.

Roy hadn't suspected Skye. Roy hadn't suspected Skye's mother.

Her mother. It leapt into his brain, an idea swelling from it.

"Mimi's parents' dinner," he said. He quickly explained Mimi's idea to throw a dinner and invite the Elite's families. "If Skye's mom was part of the rebel cause, who's to say rebel doesn't run in the new spy's family?"

Even though the idea was bright and shiny and full of hope, it sunk a realisation low through his gut that settled settling like fungi in wet soil. Not only did he have to worry about making a good impression, he also had to watch out for spy signs, in Selected and parent.

Ji-Yu nodded. "For the first time, I'm grateful for Mimi's spontaneity. We'll organise this… parents' dinner for next week and use it to spot for any clues, any holes in the Selected's stories. Or any signs they're not as wholesome as they seem. Have the guard focused around the evening, though I want patrols posted in every wing, and our offices heavily guarded." She turned to Gemima. "Can you have that arranged?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Good. Rudy," she turned to him, "see to it that Roy has bulletproof armour underneath his clothing during the evening, and that you keep watch over him as well."

Rudy swallowed loudly. "I will shadow as required, though I know our officers will be more observant."

"Officers tend to focus on physical signs of trouble," said Ji-Yu, "but I know you can see distress by even the minutest shift of Roy's expression. Keep an eye out."

Rudy nodded. "I will."

It was a nice thing to say, and it made Roy smile, just a smidge.

"Excellent. And, Jun," Ji-Yu's gaze landed on him. "Stay vigilant. If anything becomes even remotely suspicious, you know the drill."

"I know the drill," he repeated.

"And," she inhaled a long breath, "try to have fun. I know… I know this might end up being pivotal for our next actions, but… this is still your Selection. Still your chance to find happiness."

It seemed so in his reach, too, like he could just take it and make it his, but each time he splayed his hands to grab it, it would slip between his fingers like droplets of sand.

Maybe the kidnapping was too fresh for a little hope right now, but he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and he was walking towards it. Slowly, but towards it nonetheless.

=#=#=#=

=#=#=#=

Bulletproof vests were not comfortable for dinner evenings.

Roy tugged at the armour that clung to his vest, thick and padded and chafing his shoulders. Light enough to fit under his suit but still heavy across his chest, as was the weight of his task this evening. Hopefully no one would spot it underneath his silk shirt and the floral suit Mimi had bought him from Milan in Italy, hanging from his bedposts.

It was one thing to have dinner with the Selected. Another entirely to have dinner with their parents.

The idea of the Selection was for the girls to meet his parents, but now the tables were turning, along with his stomach. What did he talk about? Was he supposed to be cool and chill, or rigid and traditional? Be himself, or be the best version of himself?

One parent would possibly become his own. One parent possibly wanted him dead.

It was a rollercoaster of nerves and adrenaline that kept his focus acute on watching Rudy sweep away the last barbs of lint from suit and trying not to fuss with the armour.

"If you sweat anymore," Rudy said, not even looking at him, "your clothes are going to slide off your body."

"Sorry." Roy dabbed the back of his hand to his head – it came away oily. "Just the whole future in-laws and rebel mom thing combined is keeping me on my toes."

Roy gazed wistfully to his bathroom door. They'd taken off the eliminated Selected girls to leave only the ten Elite, and Sherlock's face had been crossed out, but the little notes remained: Regina's writing habits. Lilly's argument with Eulalia. Luna's ability to speak Korean. Nothing substantial, but suspicious enough to hold Roy's attention.

He'd also noted all of the girls that liked to play walkabout without anyone's knowledge – Camilla, Delia, Elise – though he suspected all of them, at one point, had forgone rules to hunt for the elusive secret passages.

"We have a few hours before the dinner. Please relax. And just think, this'll be the one of the last public engagements you have before your birthday, and then it's Christmas and New Year." He backed from the suit, satisfied it was clear of lint. "We all deserve a break."

"At this point I think I deserve a vacation, a spa treatment and a full-body therapeutic massage."

Rudy laughed. "For once, I'm inclined to agree with you."

"That's a first."

"And it's probably a last."

Roy pulled off the armour and tucked it besides his bed. Sinking down in his armchair, he spread out his arms and shut his eyes. Beyond his exhaustion he could see little images flickering into his head unwarranted. Guns and chairs and cold, dark rooms. It was a fight to push them away.

"You think tonight will yield anything important?"

"I don't know," said Rudy. "It's hard to say. We've already established that the rebels like their elaborate shows of power."

An event like this one was perfect. And they were practically inviting external parties into their home.

"But they'd be foolish to do anything tonight. Surrounded by guards and innocent people. Clarity and Rainerd will be there to report everything to the press. Her Majesty has even had temporary cameras installed into the ballroom."

It hadn't stopped them before. The fashion show, the Bonfire Ball. Why would it now?

A knock peeled open his eyes.

Durante's voice called, "Lady Yuriko Sato for you, sir."

Roy's heart buzzed with sudden excitement. He jumped up from his chair. "Come in!"

Yuriko looked the same as before she'd left. Pin-straight hair, tied into a high knot and glued with hair spray and glitter. Her lithe frame had been confined within a gaudy teal tutu with the corset inlaid with faux jewels. Still, her air of tranquillity eased into the room with her quaint, but genuine, smile.

Roy sped forwards to hug her. "Kiko! I missed you!"

She petted his back and let go. "It's good to see you too, Your High— ahem, Roy," she said. "And you, too, Rudy. I thought I'd come see you before my rehearsal."

"How are you? Are you excited to perform?"

"Absolutely." She clapped her hands together. "My life has been completely different since the Selection. Now my circus is always sold out. It's been a wonder going on tour."

"Glad you could make time for humble old me," Roy said with a wink.

"Of course. After… the news…" Even her tutu seemed to wilt. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

Part of him wanted to blot out the day, but it was always constant, sitting at the back of his mind like a quiet animal, just waiting for the right moment to turn feral. Those images crawled back into his mindscape, and again he shooed them away.

"It's okay. I'm doing okay."

"That's good. I hope my performance today will help lift your spirits, even for a moment. Erm." She glanced at Rudy, then at Durante. "I'm glad your… situation is over with, at least."

He'd almost forgot she knew about the spy, was the only Selected to know before Skye's grand reveal.

"It's okay, they both know," Roy said. "Thanks, but… it's not. There's another one."

Yuriko's gasp was sharp. "Another? How?"

"When you find out, let me know."

Her hands clasped together in contemplation. "I will keep on lookout for anything suspicious. I might not be much help, but… hopefully I won't be considered a threat. Maybe she will confide in me."

There was a spy amongst the Selected, but now Roy had an insider of his own. Spy against spy. Almost ironic, considering.

"Thank you, that'd be great. Just let me know about anything – no matter how minor it seems."

"As minor as dismissing door guards?"

As bitter a reminder it was, Roy couldn't help but laugh. "Yep. As minor as dismissing door guards."

They exchanged another hug before she left to prepare. Roy had only sampled her back-flip at the Midknight dinner – he couldn't wait to see her at ease with herself in the circus act. Doing what she was good at, what she loved.

He wished he could be like that. Even for a moment.

And a few hours of worrying later, and the night finally arrived.

The ballroom had been converted to house several round, clothed tables, each marked by name and adorned with candle-lit centrepieces. The stage at the front had been partitioned with a red curtain, hiding all that happened behind, but the people were already sitting down to make themselves comfortable, or helping themselves to the champagne being passed around by staff. Four tables in all, six if the council and his family counted, with a spare seat for Roy open at every table with a Selected.

He had to move around between each course to interact with every single person. Mimi's idea.

Mimi flitted towards him when he was announced. Her ball gown was a hot pink and textured with polyester fabric roses and snapdragons. Garish, but so extremely Mimi. She looked like this was her party, and everyone else was just a hapless guest lucky to be in her presence.

"Late to your own do? Fashionable! And doesn't that suit I bought look great on you! Must've taken all that time for you to get ready!" she cooed. "These girls are in for a show. All of the parents have already settled, too. I've been talking to Delia's family – they love their room! I think her sister is excited to stay the night!"

Talking to Delia. Right. After that fiasco last week where she confessed her love to him, he'd been avoiding her since. It was too awkward, ballooning in his chest, and now he had to not only talk to her, but her family, too. Did they know she was in love with him?

"That's great," he said unenthusiastically. It was a wealth of colour and buzz, almost overwhelming. "Where do I start?"

"We have a photo studio to the side, but you should probably meet everyone before snapping some juicy pics. You know. Politeness and good manners and all that. Why don't you start… there?"

She pointed to the closest family – or couple, more like. Elise was chattering away with a woman, presumably her mother, and almost erratically gesturing to the environment. Only names were included in the Selected form, so he had no faces to ascribe each name.

Roy inhaled a long breath, but the air only tasted of his sweat. Great. Not even his deodorant could save him. He stepped away from Mimi, who piped "Good luck!" before going off to regale Maeve's lot with some fantastic shopping trip.

"Good evening," Roy said politely.

Elise jumped and turned around. "Oh, gosh! You scared me!"

The woman tensed suddenly when she turned around, before curtseying. "Your Highness. It's good to meet you. Donna Belmont. I'm Elise's mother." She was the spitting image of Elise, ash brown hair and dull blue eyes.

No father. He was obviously not in the picture, for whatever reason.

Elise just guffawed. "Oh, Mom, don't be so nervous. It's just Roy."

"Just Roy agrees," said Roy. "I'm as nervous as you, Lady Belmont."

"Donna, please," she said, with a slight laugh. "I'm not posh enough for lady."

"Yeah. Lady Belmont is her daughter," said Elise wryly. "And I'm wringing it out for all it's worth."

Donna fixed her with a teasing look.

"Enjoying the party?" he said. It was in his bank of small-talk topics.

"It's to die for!" said Elise, though the question was more directed at Donna. "The ballroom is beautiful, and the decorations— it's like a fairy tale! And I can't wait for Yuriko's performance." She clasped her mother's hands. "Do you remember me telling you about Yuriko? She was the acrobat?"

"Yes, I remember. You liked her a lot from your letters."

"Have you seen her back-flip?" asked Roy.

"Back-flip? Noooo?" said Elise. "She always said she'd show us her acrobatics but never got the chance. Katrina said it was pretty cool."

And that was the highest form of compliment one could glean from Katrina Berg. "I've seen her do it. It's awesome. I think she'll be amazing on stage."

"I wish I could do flips and stuff." She sighed dreamily. "Or that I could dance. I would be like the princess in all the adventures."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "You? Dancing? I see you more slaying dragons."

"I mean, I can do both, right?"

Roy just laughed. "Maybe dancing… with dragons?"

"With a hot dragon prince!" Elise exclaimed.

Donna just roared with laughter – infectious, so much so, that Roy's stomach hurt holding it in.

"Don't suppose you know any dragon princes yourself, Your Highness?" asked Donna.

Roy made wiggly fingers. "You have unmasked me. I am a hot dragon prince."

Elise and Donna laughed, and it was good. It made him feel… good. Weightless, nearly. Nothing like something as silly as a hot dragon prince to open the conversation.

It wasn't on his bank of small-talk conversations, but on Elise, anything seemed to work.

He tipped his head. "It's been great meeting you, Donna," he said.

"Thank you," she said, wiping a tear away. "Please come sit at our table when you can."

When he walked away, he distinctly heard Donna say to Elise, "There goes my mascara."

Good way start to the evening. Hopefully everyone else would follow suit.

"Hey, Roy!"

Maeve's voice, distinctive over the din. He turned to face her voice and drew close to her table. Her parents were seated already with Mimi was hovering over them, lips moving animatedly. Maeve waved him over, best dressed in her deep blue one piece – clearly far more extravagant than the outfits of her parents.

She was a Two now. They were still Sevens.

"You just get here?" she asked.

"About five minutes ago," he said. "This is your family?"

The man and the woman shot to stand, nearly toppling Mimi over. The man, her father, with brown skin and a wisp of dark hair, smiled so brightly he pulled all the wrinkles on his face.

"Prince Roy," he greeted, offering his hand. "I'm Fierro Reynolds, Maeve's father. It's great to meet you in person. Maeve and Lady Mimi have told me so much about you."

His grip was solid. "Good things, I hope?"

"I only have good things to tell!" Mimi insisted with a laugh.

"I know, right?" Maeve snorted. "There's hardly a bad bone in you. Well, except maybe the partying, but you've sort of put that behind you—"

"Maeve," the woman chided, skin a pale white. "That's not at all appropriate. Apologise to His Highness and Lady Kim."

Maeve's cheeks went from the natural rosy red to a sickly pale. He'd never seen her… react like that, before.

"Sorry," she mumbled, suddenly quiet.

Mimi just cringed at him. Luckily, no one was looking at her.

"It was a joke. I know," Roy said, trying to diffuse the situation.

The woman's smile puckered. "Of course." He didn't miss the flicker of disapproval – for him or for Maeve, he'd never know. "Cosette, Your Highness. It's an honour to meet—"

"I got it!"

A boy came to halt in front of them, brandishing a paper crown like it was made of real gold. A cut across the main arch made it look rather miserable in comparison to the real thing. His face went whiter than any ghost.

"Daniel," said Fierro. "Meet Her Majesty's sister and the prince."

Roy waved. "Hello."

Then Daniel burst into tears.

Mimi bit her tongue to resist laughing aloud as Cosette pulled him close, muttering, "Oh, for goodness sake, pull yourself together."

Two boys came running up behind. One was identical to Daniel – same red hair, pale skin, with so little resemblance to the Maeve that Roy had first wondered whether they'd stumbled to the wrong family. The other boy looked more like Cosette than Maeve.

"Oh!" Mimi braced her hands against her knees. "And what're your names, young boys?"

The other twin completely ignored her question and said, "You're the queen's sister?"

"That's right!" Mimi said.

He looked at Roy. "And you're the prince?"

He'd made one cry and the other fascinated. What a weird contrast. "Yeah. That's me." It came out lame and anti-climactic.

"Then where are your crowns?"

"I don't have a crown, to my chagrin," said Mimi, nearly draping herself over the table with feigned hurt.

"And mine is in the royal vault, with all my other precious jewels. I only bring it out on special occasions."

He huffed. "Am I not a special occasion?"

"Now, now," Fierro said. "Be respectful to Prince Roy."

"Introduce yourselves to Lady Kim, please," said Cosette.

Neither obliged. The other boy become so enraptured with the floor that he jumped when Maeve patted his shoulder.

"The twins are Daniel and Mies. They're adopted, er, obviously, since they don't look like me or Dad," she filled in for them. "And this is Charlie, my cousin."

"If Maeve wins, does she get a crown?" crowed Mies. "And then will I get one too?"

Mimi sighed. "I didn't get so much as a title when my sister was crowned queen."

"Well, I want a crown," said Mies. "I will have Maeve make me one!"

"Mies," hushed Cosette in a tired voice. She fluttered her hand away. "Go and play with the boys. We're have an adult discussion."

Mies, Daniel and Charlie were eager to obey. Mies snatched the paper crown from Charlie and bolted off, Daniel and Charlie quick to pursue him.

"Apologies for them," said Cosette. "Children. You know how they are."

"I don't have any children, so I wouldn't know," said Mimi. She roped Roy's shoulder and mussed his haircut. "Already have enough trouble with this one."

Fierro laughed, but Cosette pursed her lips. "I… see…"

Even Mimi deflated slightly. But she clapped her hands together and grinned, hiding it well. "It's been lovely to meet you both, Mr and Mrs Reynolds. Must dash though!"

Roy shot her a desperate look. Don't leave me here. But Mimi only winked and gave him a non-subtle nudge as she passed, moving off to dazzle Camilla's family with her words.

"I hope my daughter has been behaving?" said Cosette, dragging Roy back to the present.

The memory of Maeve ripping up the dance floor with her glorious twerking skills filled his brain, and he mushed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Maeve must've jumped to the same thought, because her eyes glittered with that same amusement.

But she didn't say anything. No boom of laughter. Whatever joy she took from the memory dissipated quickly enough that she stoically waited for an answer, eying Cosette, Fierro and Roy in rapid succession.

"Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent," said Roy. "Maeve's one of my most well-behaved Selected."

Not quite true, not quite a lie. Something to sit in the limbo between.

"I dance good," she blurted suddenly.

Cosette whipped to face her. "You dance well," she corrected, before focusing on Roy. "You have danced together?"

"Er." Sweat pooled in Roy's shoes. "Maeve and I have… danced… together, yes."

"He was really good," she said. "I was almost beaten—er, bested."

"Because it was… ranked…"

"And he had to cut—" She halted. "Cut— er—"

"Cut the day short, because I was so exhausted! Aha!"

Shock rippled across Cosette's features, far more than appropriate. "You bested His Highness… in ballroom dancing?"

It was murder stopping himself from laughing. "Yes. Ballroom dancing. That's it."

Fierro raised an eyebrow. "I love you sweetheart, but ballroom dancing? I just can't imagine you doing it." He looked between them. "And you're nearly a whole head taller than His Highness. How did you dip her?"

"Maeve is tenacious," said Roy. Not a lie. "And so am I." A slight lie.

"I'll be on Dancing with the Stars before you know it," she said, grinning.

Cosette didn't seem pleased with that comment. "It's not becoming of a Two to appear on Dancing with the Stars," she said. "But it's good to see you've found common ground. Will you be taking my daughter on a date at any point?"

Maeve gasped. "Mom!"

"Lady Kim also seemed keen for you two to mix."

Of course she would. "I— er, yeah. In time. Soon."

"That's good." Her gaze seared into Maeve. "I hope she can show you some of her ladylike qualities."

Ladylike and Maeve were practically antonyms of one another. Roy nearly dropped his mouth open, seeking Maeve's eyes, but hers were rigidly set upon her mother's, flames consuming her irises in an anger Roy had never seen in her before.

"Right. Erm." He swallowed thickly. "Thank you for meeting me."

Cosette turned rigid at the dismissal. "Oh, yes, of course."

"You'll sit at our table, yes?" Fierro said. "During one of the courses? Lady Mimi said something about it?"

"Yes, that's correct. I'll be joining you again then."

He waved a small goodbye to Maeve, whose spirit was dampened like she'd been snuffed with a wet paper towel. No more anger, only vulnerability.

He left them behind to whatever was brewing, but made it six steps before someone caught his arm. Fierro.

"Ah, apologies, Your Highness," he said. "I just… I thought you should know, Maeve's favourite dish in the whole wide world is jambalaya – the regular kind, but she also loves dishes from the South Coast of Midston. The traditional stuff from old Louisiana."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"No, no, thank you. You've… really transformed our lives." He smiled and tipped his head. "She really enjoys it here, you know, my little Myve, and I think you play a big part of that."

His heart fizzled with affection. Just knowing he was even part of the reason for her happiness… it somehow made the spy business worth it.

The spy business. He swallowed. Hadn't been paying attention to either of the last encounters. Though Cosette was frosty, she didn't strike him as Spy Mom material. Neither Fierro, nor Donna Belmont. Neither had Maeve or Elise for the spy herself.

"I'm glad to hear it," he croaked, throat suddenly parched. "If you'll excuse me."

Fierro let him go, and Roy, for all he was worth, nearly sped in the opposite direction. Should he be keeping notes? Searching for signs? Talking to new people was enough to keep his mind occupied without having to figure out whether they were spy material, too.

"You haven't embarrassed yourself, yet? That must be a record."

In perfect timing to free him from his thoughts, Katrina wormed her way to his side, arms crossed. Bow hairstyle back to normal, with a miniature veil floating from the tie, she towered over him in tall heels and a pink tulle dress.

"I can go parties without embarrassing myself, thank you."

"I'm surprised you're not stumbling and staggering all over the place, given how sweaty you are."

Oh, damn. She noticed. Who else had keen eyes like hers?

"It's like parents' evening, and you're in the hot seat."

"The child is the focus on parents' evening, and I don't have a child," Roy said.

Katrina scoffed. "You are the child, moron. Everything you say and do is being judged by these people. Deciding whether you're suitable for their daughters. Comparing it to your performed princely elegance on the Capital Report."

"I'm surprised you think I have any princely elegance."

"It's there, just hanging by the thinnest of threads."

"… I mean, I'll take that," he said. "What have you been doing this evening?"

Dare he ask. "I've been mingling, of course. I wasn't late, so I've already managed to meet nearly everyone's families or guardians. Except…" She scanned the room. "Them."

Them turned out to be Regina and her parents. They stood mostly to themselves in the corner, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, though Regina kept gesturing to her fellow Selected with muted glee.

Katrina sighed. "Listen, I don't hate Regina, okay? She's weird, that's for sure, but the way her parents are just… standing there, doing nothing to interact with everyone else, occasionally pursing their lips at passers-by like we're ants to their gods… it's weirder."

He smirked. "Ironic, coming from you?"

"I only judge people I know, albeit vaguely." Her shoulders pulled up. "Come on. You have to agree with me, here."

Looking at them more thoroughly, this was a rare time he did. The woman perused the crowds with a disdainful shake of her head, and the father's body rumbled with the occasional grunt of disapproval.

"I have to go talk to them," Roy said.

"Pffft," said Katrina. "Good luck."

"Don't you want to socialise with everyone?"

"Not if everyone includes them." She waved him away and sauntered off. "Have fun, Fitzroy."

Great. Swallowing his pride, he marched over.

Instantly, the Landowskis' demeanours changed. The woman's smile perked up like a weary morning soul downing a shot of coffee, and the man's teeth were so pearly they could blind.

Regina whirled around. Typically, she wore yellow, this time in the form of a skirt, bow around the waist, and a polka-dot shirt on top.

"Hello, Roy. I was just talking about you," she said, then gestured to her parents. "This is my Mom and Dad." He didn't miss how controlled her eccentricity was.

"Please, just call me Willemina," said the woman, curtseying so long it was awkward. "What a pleasure it is to finally meet you in the flesh. You're not so different from the television."

He wasn't sure whether that was a compliment, but if she was referring to his princely elegance, he was definitely going to take it. "Thank you, ma'am."

By her impressed smile, she did like the ma'am addition.

"I'm Regina's father, Dr Jameson Landowski," said the man, offering a hand.

His grip was concrete, and he held on for a smidgen too long. Roy felt an icky sensation crawl up his arm. "Pleasure to meet you, too, sir. What's your field?"

"Psychology, Your Highness. Specifically, I study decision-making processes and behaviours. Do you have an interest in the subject?"

Even the words wanted to put him to sleep. Roy swallowed. "I've… never heard of it before."

That disapproval, lasting too long to be an intrusive thought. "It's fascinating stuff, really. Our minds undergo a series of steps to make a decision, though there are several theories dictating the sorts of steps we take. Personally, I don't believe in the strict cost-benefit analysis—"

"Okay, Dad," said Regina, face flat. "We get it."

His nostrils flared. "Regina, you would do well not to interrupt me. What sort of example does that set to His Highness about your behaviour?"

Roy's stomach sank. Cosette had been icy, but not downright confrontational. Half of him wanted to melt into a puddle and slide away, the other half wanted to turn back time and backtrack slowly in Katrina's wake.

Regina didn't seem surprised at his words. "His Highness just doesn't want to be bombarded by knowledge he's too polite to refuse." She turned to Roy. "Isn't that right?"

Now all of him wanted to turn back time. He did not want to involve himself in this, and a stone formed in his gut. Thank god for prince training – a polite smile overcame his horror. "It sounds interesting, Dr Landowski, sir, but it's not quite my thing."

He puffed, his reedy frame tremoring. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Because politeness, duh. Luckily, Will stepped in.

"I'm sure His Highness is already busy with the country." Her frown was still somehow like a smile. "And that awful spy business. I am deeply troubled that something like that could happen to you. Truly, an abominable thing for the rebels to do."

"Yes. Thank you for your sympathy." However paper-thin.

From her pocket, Wil produced a card – a business card? She handed it to him. Willemina Landowski, Lawyer.

"Should you ever need a professional attorney, please contact me. I'd be more than happy to help you, pro bono."

Roy stared at the card, flabbergasted she had the confidence to hand him one in the first place. This was an event about the Selected, about Regina, not about networking.

"Mom, please, not here," Regina pressed, seeming to have the same thoughts.

But Will just flashed her a look of resignation. "You'll have to learn soon, Regina, that every moment is an opportunity."

Pocketing the card and remembering to throw it out later, Roy mumbled a weak, "Thank you." Was it too short a first conversation to leave? Probably, but Roy didn't care. "If you'll excuse me."

He left before Will could preposition him further, before Jameson could shove more unwanted knowledge down his throat, before either could berate Regina for saying five words or less.

If he chose her as his One, if he married her, those people would become his step-parents. Family. A chill rode up his spine at the thought; anything had to be better. A spy was one thing, but in the end, it was short-term, whereas he intended his marriage to be for life, and that included the in-laws, too.

Could he stand Will and Jameson for more than a few minutes? A no rolled around his head in an instant, but his mind slid then to Regina. What did this mean for her in the competition?

Roy saw Merrick in the crowd, alone, surveying everyone with his unusual quietness. Even more unusual that he was halfway through a glass of sherry, typically Ji-Yu's favourite alcoholic beverage, only sipping it but frequently. Roy came to a stop by his father's side, but Merrick didn't even notice him.

"Earth to Dad?"

He didn't jump, only acknowledged his presence with a short glance his way. "Ah, Roy. Sorry. Are you enjoying the evening?"

Probably still mourning the loss of Diantha Schreave. Roy rolled his shoulders and admitted, "It's had its ups and downs," he said. "Have you met Regina's parents?"

"No, why?" He suddenly twinkled with a spark. "Are they really nice?"

"Opposite, actually. They don't even seem to like Regina."

"Oh. That's… terrible." Merrick deflated. "Sorry. I just… I remembered meeting your grandparents for the first time. I was so nervous, but your mother— she was so reassuring that I had nothing to worry about, but of course I panicked. And then Hwan and Young-Sook turned out to be the nicest people I'd ever met." He smiled faintly. "I just hoped you'd have that, too."

Roy had to laugh. "I can't believe you were worried about meeting Oni and Oji."

"I know," said Merrick. "I saw your grandfather about five minutes ago, trying to balance teaspoons on his nose. And your grandmother was taking pictures of him."

"They're wild." No wonder they'd made Mimi, yet it was a wonder they'd made Ji-Yu. "Was… was Mother nervous about meeting Grandmother Diantha and Grandfather Galloway?"

His amusement fell. "Yes."

Short and curt. No stories attached. Not like Merrick at all. Talking about Diantha now wasn't his wisest move, and he tried to perk up. "I bet she became less nervous as the Selection went on."

Merrick said nothing for a few moments, but eventually contributed, "My parents were very different from your mother's, son."

Oh. "Okay."

"Sorry," he said, petting Roy's shoulder. "I don't mean to spread melancholy. Go, enjoy the party. Meet some of the other families. Hopefully," that faint smile accompanied by a wink, "one of them will welcome you like your Oni and Oji did for me."

Roy idled by his side for a moment, but Merrick was clearly done talking – he finished his sherry, popped the glass down on a passing waiter's tray, and moved off. Roy didn't like this mourning Merrick, but there was nothing he could do. Taking his advice, he ambled to the nearest family that he hadn't met yet.

Avianna's.

No parents – whether they were here tonight or absent entirely, Roy couldn't be sure. Avianna was only seventeen, so they had to have some guardianship around. The girl proclaiming loudly to Avianna was shorter, and it was already hard to be shorter than Avianna.

"— was totally the hotter one. Like, he's a bad boy, a spicy fajita during a romantic date, whereas Prince Barnabas is lumpy porridge on a rainy Monday morning."

Avianna frowned. "Trust me, if you'd met Prince Alex back then, you would not be calling him a spicy fajita. My friend Alisa would object on Barney's behalf." She paused. "Also, just what?"

He came up behind them. "Good evening, ladies."

Both twirled around. The girl – a sister, no doubt, but now he couldn't tell her age – opened her mouth, before shutting it again. Like Avianna, her hair was black and curled into a princess style, with heavy eyeliner and lipstick.

"You're right: he is hot with short hair."

Both Roy and Avianna went bright red. Roy's scalp prickled with self-consciousness. "Er—"

"I'm so sorry about my sister, Roy," said Avianna, shooting the girl brittle daggers. "Penelope doesn't have a brain sometimes."

He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted on behalf of his previously beloved long hair. "That's okay. It's nice to meet you, Lady DeLaurence."

"Lady Hathers, actually." Penelope grinned. "But you can call me by my first name too, if you want."

Avianna went red again. "Stop that, it's embarrassing."

"What? You haven't been on a date with him since the mass elimination! You're not even making much of an effort!" She made a hair-flicking motion, even though her hair was in an updo. "If you're not going to go for it, I might as well."

Struggling to work it out himself, he said, "May I ask how old you are, Penelope?"

She pushed out her chest. "Fourteen."

Fourteen? "Oh." Now he felt sick.

"It's the make-up. And my height," said Avianna. "I don't blame you for thinking she was older."

Penelope huffed. "I'm still mature! And I can still flirt with hot older men!"

This was a whole new different feeling to the Regina's family's version of uncomfortable company. Two people approached them, then – a woman and a man, and Roy hoped to god they'd rein in Avianna's sister.

The woman had a glass of champagne in her hand, and she tipped her head at Roy. "Your Highness. Thank you for taking care of my daughter so well."

"Avianna is a wonderful person, Lady… Hathers?"

"DeLaurence," she corrected. "But, please, Clarissa is just fine. My husband is Hathers. Tristan Hathers."

Some step-family involved, then. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You too," said Tristan. Upstanding in a nice suit and tie, but face veiled with sweat.

"What is your line of work?"

Tristan made a flat face, but Clarissa answered for him. "My husband is a banker. I manage my daughters and their assets, especially now that Avianna has become an Elite."

Wasn't Avianna a maid, a Six, before she was invited to the Selection? Even with a step-father, Avianna would've been elevated to at least Four, Three if banker Tristan made above a certain threshold of salary per annum.

He resisted asking about it. "I see. And are you still in school, Penelope?"

She snorted. "Unfortunately." Her expression became unyielding. "But I have to stay in school if I want to become like Quiin Janieve."

"Who's that?"

All three looked at Avianna, and Avianna sheepishly said, "Famous fashion designer. Women's luxurious fashions. Also, my client before I became a Selected."

"I'm surprised you never told His Highness about her, Avianna," said Clarissa, now regarding Roy. "She's friendly with their entire family, she's been there so long."

Avianna's lips twisted. It wasn't a friendly note of Clarissa's words. "Never got 'round to it."

"I would've invited her to make pieces for the fashion show, if I'd known," said Roy. "But no worries. I'm sure my mother or Katrina would now."

Avianna grinned. "Katrina and I have pored over Janieve's photoshoots. She knows."

Sometimes he wondered if the Katrina he knew was the same Katrina the Selected knew, or some sort of evil twin that broke through the crusts of hell just to plague him.

"I told Avianna to ask her to give me an internship or something, but she refused to ever mention it," Penelope muttered.

"I worked for her. It's not that friendly."

"You should've at least tried, Avianna," said Clarissa. "The worst she could've said was no."

"The worst she could've done was fire me for being unprofessional," Avianna said, with sudden irritation. "That would've meant you'd have to start work again."

Clarissa massaged her temple. "Oh, please, darling. I'm only trying to help."

Avianna just made a face – not anger, nor annoyance, but now just a complete loss for anything to say and feel. Roy would've sidled away at that moment, but instead, Penelope roped her arm through Roy's and said, "Your cousins aren't here anymore, are they?"

"They departed two weeks ago."

"Boo," she said, genuinely disappointed. "But that doesn't matter. Can you show me around the floor?"

There wasn't much to show, but immediately, Avianna perked up. "Oh, no." She roped through Roy's other arm. "I'm coming, too. Have to keep an eye on you."

"You're just mad that I might steal him from you," she said, grinning widely.

Trust me, no way can you possibly steal me, he thought, shuddering to his core.

Avianna held his arm tighter, but still with the gentleness that Penelope lacked. Her perfume wafted into his nose, sending a spritz of coolness down his spine.

"You're just mad I actually got Selected and went on a date with a prince."

"Penelope," said Tristan stiffly. "Please don't accost the prince."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine."

She let go, and Avianna took the moment to gently lead him away from her family. He warred between a mixture of amusement and relief.

"Sorry about them," said Avianna, sincerely contrite. "My step-dad is so awkward. Mom is… Mom. And Penelope has zero filter."

"Trust me, not the worst people I've met." Not the worst I've even met today. Roy couldn't help but smirk. "You think I look hot with short hair?"

She blushed again. "Yeah, fine, okay – you look hot with short hair. But you looked hot with long hair, too. You're just… hot."

Whatever arrogance he'd clustered melted into his stomach, and another blush rose up on his face.

"T-Thanks."

Her time to look smug. "But this goes two ways. You think I'm hot, too."

Despite being half-sisters, Penelope and Avianna weren't so different after all. "And if I disagreed?"

"You'd be lying, because your blush says you agree."

"Touché."

"What are two hot people to do with themselves?"

He laughed at that.

"Hey, er," she started. "Remember what I said on our first date? That we should go again?"

He frowned. "I haven't even been on first dates with all my Elite, yet."

"Well, after that, when you have, I'll ask you again," she said. She spoke confidence, volumes of self-importance, but he detected that wisp of a tremor in her voice. "I'm only reminding you in case you've forgotten."

"Okay," he agreed. "It's… a date."

"Soon," she said.

"Your Highness, Lady Avianna," said a waiter, coming up to them both. "Please be seated. The first course is ready to begin."

When the waiter left, Avianna slid her arm down until her fingers brushed his. "Come sit at my table?"

"I will. I have a rota." Funny how weird that sounded. "I'll be with you for the entrée."

She flushed with excitement. "All right," she said, whispered, nearly. One last flirtatious smile eased onto her lips before Avianna bounced off to oversee Penelope and her family.

It took Roy a moment to realise his heart was hammering, to ease his erratic breaths, to finally head to the first table on his rota for appetisers. When he got there, dread struck in fast in the gut.

On one side, he had Luna, and that was a comfort in the chaos. But on the other side was Regina. And her parents.

And they were eagerly staring right at him.


A/N: hurrdurr I forgot February only had twenty-eight days lmao, henceforth I did not post this last month. Would've posted yesterday but then I realised I had a massive structure problem from this to chapter 50 lol and proceeded to shift everything and edit until perf. I'm pretty psyched for what's in store, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Writing this was sooooo much fun. I knew I asked for family details of the Selected for a reason! Can I just say, why y'all so mean to your girls? Can we not just give them all happy families? Shoutout to Ruby Casablanca for Yuriko Sato, too! I missed her a lot so I brought her back for some spotlight time lol.

Today I finished writing Chapter 50. Can you believe it's been so long? Fifty chapters! Very excited for you to read the next four, since I've been planning this plot point pretty much since tsts' conception... fufufufufufu...

As always buds, thanks for reviewing, favouriting, following, and reading along.

~ GWA

NTT: "Asparagus is one of my favourite vegetables."