Late next morning, my brain is about 90% mush.

It's hard getting up and dressed, Aderyn twirling about the room to prepare me, and pretending like everything didn't happen yesterday. Like Max's entire family history wasn't just laid bare like a feast, except all the food is rotten and it's being shoved down my throat.

It's not even his real name. Max's true birth name was Nathaniel Washington. I bet if I looked that up, there'd be nothing but dirt to find on a trail long gone cold.

"You seem distracted," says Aderyn, as she finishes sweeping down the lace veil of my dress skirt.

"Oh! Erm. It's nothing," I say quickly.

"Mmm. I noticed you weren't here last night. Does your late absence have something to do with a certain other Selected gentleman, who was also noted to be missing?"

Max isn't as slick as he thought. "No one noticed?"

"The captain told me you were out… ahem, together. Everyone else was rather pre-occupied entertaining the foreign guests. You missed the banquet! I heard Prince Tay's eclairs went down a treat."

I grimace. The first thing I have to do this morning is address the Selected boys, and apologise to the Silas and Kajika, whose friends I didn't actually get to meet. In the grand scheme of things it seems almost a silly thing to apologise for, but I know it will matter to them. At least Zelda got to talk to some of them.

"What of the Prime Minister? And Kenley Plantagenet?"

"What of them?"

So nothing happened. I probably would've known by now if something really went down involving the Resurgence, but still. The thought feels like a hug from a stranger – comforting only for a short time until you realise how weird it is. It's still niggling in my head, the idea that the Resurgence wants me to back Kenley. Surely that means she's in their pocket, too.

"Nothing. Let's go down to breakfast."

It's late into the meal, as I note Junior, Charlie and Yvette finishing their dishes with jam-streaked cheeks, and Aunt Decadence ushering over an attendant to take her plate, but Roy is absent from the head table – a supposed migraine, Cami tells me, when I go to sit down next to her. Shadows criss-cross beneath her eyes as she trails her hands down a newspaper, fingers delicate across the print. The Illéan Times. I peer over her to read the headline:

DOZENS INJURED IN NORTH ANGELES REBEL ATTACK LAST NIGHT.

Cami will know the story already – we'd have received word of anything before the press even smelt something funny – but now she's lapping up public opinion of the matter. Both a great way to understand how the people are feeling, but also the perfect place to spiral into an abyss of criticism and self-loathing.

"Don't read that for too long," I tell her.

She takes a deep breath and folds the newspaper in half. "I know. Sometimes I can't help it."

"Roy really has a migraine?"

She nods. "He was up late last night with Ahmed to deal with the issue."

There's not much Roy can do anymore. He no longer has the power, after all, but I know it's not the burden of responsibility that spurs him into action. Lathering my toast in blueberry jam, I glance up at the Elite, who have almost finished. Some of them look terrible – Elliot, in particular, looks like a lawnmower drove over his face, and takes in the sight of us slowly, squinting. Max, too, looks pale, hollow, even as he smiles at me from across the room – our secret hangs invisibly between us. Then there's Kingsley and Yamato and Soren, who look immaculate from the top of their heads to the shiny tips of their shoes. Sheng is, naturally, somewhere between, though he looks uncomfortable in his seat. All of their friends will have left by now, and my family and other foreign guests will be gone by afternoon.

I stand and tinkle a glass for attention. "Good morning family, friends, and esteemed guests. To my Elite, I wanted to congratulate you on a successful Prime Minister's Banquet yesterday. It was a beautiful event that celebrated the achievements of our country and government, and everyone who attended had a splendid time, I know. You should all be very proud of what you have accomplished.

"I… also want to apologise, for leaving so abruptly. I… know I didn't get to meet all of your friends, human or otherwise," I glance at Ben, "but I hope you all enjoyed yourselves regardless. After breakfast, I'd like to talk to Silas and Kajika, please."

Only after I sit down do I realise the current that ripples amongst the Elite has them thinking an elimination is impending, rather than a more formal apology. But there's nothing to be done, so I eat in silence, Cami too pre-occupied with her own thoughts to be much conversation with me or Barney and Alisa next to her, and then I meet Silas and Kajika outside.

They couldn't be more opposite. Contrary to his usual style, Silas is wound tightly, like a jack-in-the-box, his curly hair even more dishevelled than normal and his shirt undone and untucked. Meanwhile Kajika is a cool, easy presence. He barely seems troubled at all by the summoning.

"I wanted to say sorry personally," I begin. "I never got the chance to meet your friends."

"That's okay," Kajika says at once. "My friends understood you were a busy person."

Silas lets out a dark chuckle. "Understood? Michael wanted to go to Her Highness' quarters even when the banquet was over."

"I reaffirmed that it was a bad idea," Kajika says, eyebrows sloping. "So did Miss Zelda."

Oh, did she? I recall briefly seeing her mingling between both Silas and Kajika's party of friends. I didn't know how long she would've wanted to stick around, since fancy balls and dances aren't her thing (food is though, so I guess she had some reason to linger). I study Kajika a moment, for any hint, any sign, that our conversation on the pool has come to fruition, but frustratingly his face portrays nothing but a kind smile.

"She didn't flip out, or anything?"

"Oh, no," says Silas, "she only threatened to beat us up if we crossed you wrong."

"Normal Zelda, then?"

"Yep," say Kajika and Silas at once. They both chuckle.

"Well," I pipe, glad they're not too mad. "Thanks for understanding."

"Your Highness," Silas interrupts. "Can we talk? Alone?"

I let Kajika go and Silas leads me towards the windows overlooking the front courtyard. In the distance, the lights of Los Angeles come to life, and the sea glitters beneath the sun's kiss. Silas' tension and nerves come to full light too, as the rays trace along the stressed edges of his gaunt face.

"Is everything okay?" I ask at once.

"Everything's fine," he says. "I just… well, I'm going to say it. I did miss you a lot yesterday. I really wanted you to meet my friends."

Oh heck. My cheeks flame as he regards me, expressionless.

"I know you probably had other things on your mind, but that's just it, Your Highness. You have other things on your mind. When you can't give us your time of day, then it makes us feel side-lined. Less important, you know?"

This feels like a scolding, judging by the embarrassment that rears up through my chest, but I know every word is right.

Silas blows away a curl, gaze astray. "I don't want to make you feel bad, but… I figure you want me to be honest."

"I do," I mumble. This is hard to swallow. "Were your friends angry?"

"Pissed, but not, like, I'll go to your quarters and see you there, level of angry."

"Okay."

I stare down at my feet.

Silas sighs. "Highness."

I look up at him. His expression is… unreadable. Eyes downcast.

"I want to get to know you better," he admits quietly. "Can't do that if you're not here, can I?"

I nod.

"Okay, cool. Erm." He clears his throat, raises his chin. Grins. "Guess I'll see you around?"

I nod again. Hands tucked into pockets, Silas slopes away wordlessly, leaving me in a state of odd contentment. Is it just Silas who feels that way, or are all of the Elite feeling left out by me? I sit on the windowsill a moment, pondering the thought, because if Silas is the only one honest enough to tell me that…

I should spend more time with them.

Easier said than done. Everything seems to be crashing down at once, the Selection, the Resurgence, the hockey tournament… can't they all just take it easy for, like, one second? I let out a frustrated squeak to the universe, then stand up and pat my cheeks.

There is something I can do now, but it's not… like, fun. Nor good. Nor will it make me feel better. But it will help move things along. Dread pumps into my legs as they take me robotically to the Selected Wing, as it fuels my hand into a fist over the door. The knock doesn't echo because of my curtness, unwillingness to let it drag.

Elliot opens the door. Still looks like he's banged his head against the wall a few times, his cheeks are blotchy and uneven. At first he smiles, but then he sees my face.

"Ah." He opens the door wider and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I figured I'd be next to go after yesterday."

My hands come together. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Surprisingly I'm fine with it. My friends were being stupid, and I know I'm not exactly the smartest person here. I had a really awkward conversation with the Queen of France about her line of succession yesterday that kind of killed me inside."

I laugh at the thought. "I don't think that should stop you from achieving anything you want, though. I don't know anyone who plays hockey better than you. That's where your strengths lie."

"I know." He grins. "Plus I get to say I kissed you. Twice."

"And you can tell your friends you weren't lying!"

He chuckles. "They had the worst hangovers when they left yesterday. I think karma already got them."

"You're the only Selected with that honour." Minus, you know… Sheng. I reach for his hands, and he gives them to me. "It's been really wonderful getting to know you, and I'm so thankful I met you, so you are hereby gracefully dismissed from my Selection."

"I'll start packing now."

I leave Elliot to pack, my shoulders lighter. Okay, I don't feel great – in fact, I feel like I gleefully popped every vein in his body – but relief swells where dread once was, so I can't be doing too badly, and I'm halfway to the wing exit when I hear hurried footsteps behind me.

"Gail!"

Ben comes to a stop by me, barely breaking a sweat.

"Erm," he says, suddenly flushed. "Hey."

"Hello. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just… well, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Yesterday. You seemed… tense."

The whole Max charade forced me to walk out on Ben and his cute, doggy-woggies. "I was— nervous! Yes, very nervous! But actually, it turned out okay." Well, as okay as finding out one of my Elite is a rebel getaway driver, that is.

"Are you doing anything?"

"I was about to go play some hockey."

"Can I join you?"

"Oooo!" I haven't had the chance to play with Ben yet, even though I know he's a big fan and player himself. "Yes! I think that'll be fun!"

"All right." He grins – dimples. "I'll get changed and be down there."

By the time I'm halfway putting on my hockey skates, Ben saunters through the double-doors in a navy tracksuit. I don't plan on doing anything too rigorous, but I do need to up my ante for the Hesparian Hares game, so Ben will have to be my guinea pig punching bag for as long as he can stomach it. When he laces up his skates and takes to the rink, his strokes across the ice are natural, self-assured – he's been here before and he knows his way around. We warm up together, taking laps around the rink and racing each other.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with your dogs yesterday," I say, genuinely sad to have missed them. "They were sooooooo cute!"

"Thank you, and that's okay. Once I managed to get them into the hall they were pretty popular with everyone. Especially Kenley Plantagenet. She loves dogs apparently."

I resist the urge to squint.

"Then Jelly pooped by the cello player, so I had to make a tactical retreat."

"You ran?"

"Tactical retreat," he repeats. "I cleaned up after him of course. The pianist thought it was hilarious."

Warm up complete, we grab our hockey sticks and send the puck back and forth as we move in a circle. Sweat veils my forehead – Ben's not a professional hockey player by any stretch, but it only means his shots are unpredictable, sending me flying left and right to catch the puck in the toe. It takes me a while to realise, by the gigantic amused grin and the waggling eyebrows, that he's doing it deliberately to make me work. Meanie.

"You and Zelda okay then?"

The thought catches me off-guard – the puck goes wide. "You knew we were fighting?"

"Everyone knew you were fighting," he says.

Good thing he doesn't know the reason why. "Yes, we're okay now. Why? Was she acting weird at the banquet?"

"Opposite, actually. She looked more herself. She kept squidging my dogs' cheeks. And punching Kajika in the arm, poor guy."

"I don't think he minds," I tell him, at the same time Ben says, "Though I imagine he wouldn't stop her."

"No," I say, treading carefully. If I know anything about Ben, it's that he's got a good pair of eyes on him, able to read between the lines of any situation. How much does he know about Kajika and his feelings?

"Hmm," is all he contributes, as he retrieves the puck and passes it back to me.

I pass it back to him. "Hmm?"

He stops a moment, weighing the stick down. "I don't mean to gossip, but it's obvious, at least to me, that Kajika's caught the butterflies."

So he knows. A lot.

"Yeah," I say, drooping. "I know."

"Then why not eliminate him? He's not supposed to like anyone but you."

I had the opportunity. Earlier, with Silas there. But even forgetting his feelings for a moment, Zelda and Kajika get along really well, and she needs a little shard of happiness right now. It seems almost cruel to rip that away. She probably wouldn't say how much she missed him if he left, but she would feel it. Keenly, like a bee sting.

"Do you think I should?"

"Ultimately it's up to you," he prefaces, "and I don't think we'll get an Ansel and Jeremiah situation again, but… you never know."

I want to laugh. It's not as clear cut, but Zelda's already done the illicit-relationship thing with Parker. She's definitely not going to test my patience again. So I resolve to keep Kajika, just a little longer, and maybe see if Zelda has any returned feelings for him, or if it's just Kajika's vain hopes.

We pass the puck a few more times before a water break. Sweat collects in my back (ew), my feet (ewww), and my armpits (ewwwww), but Ben is just as sweaty and gross so I don't feel as bad. I let him sky my water bottle because he doesn't have one of his own, and watch him as he does – his side profile is quite charming. Dimples.

"Thanks." He offers the bottle back to me. "You're really good, Gail. You could play professionally."

I place the bottle on the ice. "Oh, stop it you," I hush him as he laughs, but secretly I am the one laughing! Me!

"Actually, I wonder," he leans against the wall, facing me, his tracksuit taut against his body, "what do you think you'd be doing if you were born to another family?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Is this like the worm thing?"

"No worms," he chuckles. "If you weren't a princess, I mean."

"If I weren't a princess?" I can barely fathom it. "I love being a princess."

"But say you weren't. If you were born… you know… ordinary."

Huh. I've never thought about it before. My eyes immediately go out to the rink. "I guess I would be playing hockey, which I really love doing. I don't think I could do it super-professionally – like, you know… National Hockey League or anything, but I'd like to play it for fun!" Because that's essentially what I'm doing now. I add, "Then get a boring office job on the side!"

"That's cool," he says, and the way he says it makes me think it really is. "I can't see you doing office work though. Maybe owning an interior design business were everything is pink."

"It would be called Gail's Pink Rink!" I say, giggling. "What about you? If you were born Prince Ben?"

"Hmm…"

He contemplates for a long, drawn out moment. I can hear the clock ticking in my head for as long as he does.

"I guess… I guess it would be nice to have a family. A whole one." His head bows, but he doesn't seem sad. Only… hopeful. "My dad left when I was young."

Well, this conversation took a turn. "Oh no! I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. I don't care for him; it's not him I miss. It's what he represents," he says. "I know it's silly, to wish for something like that, but my mom and I struggled for a while. I know pasting crowns and gowns over the top wouldn't exactly fix everything, but… I guess it would've made it easier."

I slip my arm underneath his, and gratefully he squeezes it against his side.

"For what it's worth," I grin, "I'm sure your mother is very proud of you."

"She is. She keeps sending me pictures of all the leche flan she buys with all the Selection money."

I laugh. He laughs. It vibrates through our bodies like thunder before the rain. He twists suddenly so we're facing each other, and he towers over me, grinning.

"You have nice dimples."

"Thanks. You have nice lips."

"Thanks." I inhale a long breath. "Want to— want to kiss them?"

He laughs but wraps his arms around my waist. "Absolutely."

Kissing Ben is so nice. It's like coming home into a living room, lit by candlelight, where the fire roars and the marshmallows toast in the hearth. Like a warm hug after a bad day, or a handful of blueberries after a heavy meal. He's gentle but firm, commanding but sweet. I lean into him, rest my hands on his chest, totally ignorant of the fact that I probably smell awful.

Then the doors clatter, and I wrench away from Ben. The sweet, salted taste of his lips lingers like a fine perfume, and I can't quite dispel the feeling of wholesome goodness in my stomach, even as I turn to face the intruder. Zelda, naturally. She looks like a storm, face battered and fried with a giant helping of frustration.

"Gail! Fina— oh." She stops short by the rink's low wall, tracing over the way our bodies are a little, ahem, close together. "Shit, my bad. You were having a moment."

"Just a little one, yeah." Ben winks at me, then steps back, lengthening the gap between us once more. "There's Gail, free for you to talk to."

"I mean—" Zelda winces. "I can just… go… and you two can go back to doing your hunky-dory hickory-dickory-dock whatever—"

"Zelda," I cut across. "What do you want?"

She sighs, that frustration lacing back into her breath. "My dads want to know if you…" She physically winces. "If you want to come have dinner with us at our house in Crescenta. They invited Uncle Roy and Aunt Cami, too. You don't have to go."

A dinner? With the Bezuidenhout-Leeuwenhoeks?

"That sounds fun!"

"Ugh, no!" Zelda groans. "That means I have to go. Because they'll break out some stupid baby photos and I need to be there to make sure they don't show the bathing ones!"

Ben and I skate to the rink door and tumble onto firmer ground. I plonk down on the benches to unravel the laces of my hockey boots. "I haven't been to your house for ages, though! Plus the captain makes really good honey parsnips!"

"And I bet your baby photos are adowable," says Ben teasingly. "Big uwu."

She glares at him. "I swear to god, Canary boy, I won't hesitate to kick your ass."

Ben just gives me a she's so small she probably wouldn't even ruffle my hair kind of look that sends me into a fit of giggles, but wisely he decides instead to say, "I'm sure you'll have a great time together."

"Jo wants one or two of the Selected to come, too."

"Then I, graciously," says Ben, "volunteer as tribute."

"Graciously," repeats Zelda mockingly. Then, to me, with a pleading tone, "Please say no?"

"Can I say no?"

"Well… no."

"Okay, so, yes then!"

"At least pretend like you don't like it." Zelda rolls her head skywards. "Fine. I'm gonna' ask Kajika to come too, then."

Both Ben and I pause emphatically. He shares a raised eyebrow with me – stupid, curved eyebrows – and I clear my throat. "Oh? Why Kajika?"

"At least he's not gonna' be a total dumbass about baby photos. Any objections?"

"None at all."

"Cool. I'll go ask him then. Be ready to go at five."

Zelda leaves us alone, and somehow I get the – very strong – impression that she has no idea about Kajika's feelings. Or maybe she does, and has decided to pretend they're not there at all.

"Better go get ready then," says Ben. He glances down at his tracksuit, mottled with sweat patches. "… Maybe a shower is in order."

"Definitely," I laugh.

We part ways to clean ourselves up before the dinner tonight. The Crescenta cottage will be a casual affair, so Aderyn chooses me a dress that is cute, polite, but not formal in any way. It's the wrong season for sunflower patterns but I cannot resist the way this dress falls down my thighs, light and airy. Paired with a white cardigan and boots, I look the pinnacle of cute for tonight.

I meet the party waiting by the back exit. For the first time in forever, Roy, Cami, and Rudy are all in casual wear. Cami is in a green cableknit dress. Rudy is in a plaid shirt. Roy is in a giant sweater with some band logo, holding a cane with an obnoxious flame pattern running down the shaft. Little June has her hand tucked in Rudy's, but there are paint marks on her cheek that Rudy desperately tries to thumb off with saliva and vigour. June giggles as he grows more frustrated.

I approach as June speaks.

"Auntie Cami?"

Cami kneels to her level. "Yes, June?"

"Why would you want to marry Uncle Roy when you could've had Papa or Daddy?"

Roy looks like he's been stabbed in the chest. Cami covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

"J-June!" cries Rudy, equally horror-stricken.

June points at Rudy. "Look at Daddy! He is amazing!"

"Very amazing, I do agree," Cami says lightly.

"I have some great qualities, too!" insists Roy. He spots me, waves me over. "Yes, Gail, tell June how amazing I am!"

"He does have nice… erm, hair," I offer.

"Hair!" June parrots.

Roy glares at me as both Cami and Rudy giggle uncontrollably.

"He is a very nice man, though, June," Cami says, as Roy smarts at the (faint) praise. "And very funny, wouldn't you say?"

"To laugh at," says June.

Cami lets out a huge roar of laughter as Rudy bursts out full-on guffawing.

"Ah, that's my girl," he says fondly.

Roy sticks out his tongue at the three of them. "We're just waiting for Sir Santiago and Bahe now. And Zelda."

"Where's the captain?"

"Already there. He left early to start cooking."

Zelda, Ben, and Kajika come down the hallway together not a moment later. Zelda is in her usual ripped jeans and black hoodie, a gloomy aura hanging over her like a raincloud, whereas the two gents are dressed to the nines in suits and trousers. I'm not even sure they have any other, more casual, clothes on their person, so Rudy encourages them to ditch the jackets and ties, and we all pile into the cars to head to Crescenta.

The Bezuidenhout-Leeuwenhoek home isn't so much a cottage – the area is far too modernised for that – but it does project a quaint, country-like appearance with its box flowers hanging from the circular windows, the warm, cosy colouring of the roof tiles and beige front door, the tiny front lawn littered untidily with potted plants, overgrown ferns and a few ugly gnomes, and ivy that threads through a trellis attached to the front wall. It's only one floor, blending with the other bungalows on the street, but it oozes hominess, a pair of fleece socks after a hard day on your feet, in a way that the palace never will.

The security detail fans out as the rest of us head inside. I step out of my shoes. The hallway wall is decorated with hundreds of family photos – mostly of June, from her first steps to her first bath to a selfie of their numerous worldwide trips. Zelda occupies several too, at her first self-defence classes, winning a school race, scoring her first goal at the rink. The day she and June first came home with Rudy and Durante, their eyes wondrous and innocent. With the kitchen door propped open – the door frame has notches with height markings – the smell hits me almost as soon as I take in the surroundings. Rich gravy, stuffed chicken, roasted potatoes in fat… honey parsnips!

From the small kitchen, Durante turns around and grins. "Good timing! Nearly done with everything."

He's wearing an apron that would be bare white if not for Zelda and June's sticky, rainbow handprints, and gestures to the laid table in front of him. Small and round. It'll be a struggle to fit us all in, especially with June's high chair.

Roy and Cami immediately take their seats, facing the door. "Oh, good, I'm famished," says Roy, as he rests his cane against the chair and sinks into it with relief. "What a long day it's been."

Rudy helps June settle in the high chair before going to help Durante. Zelda plonks down opposite her. I direct Kajika next to Zelda – heh – and then Ben and I next to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, Mr Rudy, Captain Durante," says Kajika genially.

"My pleasure," says Durante as he stirs the sauce. "I just wanted to get to know you boys better."

"Interrogate, more like," Zelda mutters.

"I heard that."

"Heard what?"

Durante turns to give Zelda the stink-eye, but Zelda is too busy trying to make an origami swan out of her napkin.

Soon dinner is served. A giant roast chicken takes centre stage, with buttered peas, roasted potatoes, stuffing balls, steamed carrots, honey parsnips, asparagus, bubbling cheese sauce, and a full boat of gravy. It's mouth-wateringly enticing. Steam erupts from every dish, juices drip from every crevice.

"Wow," says Ben. "Palace food could never. No offence."

Roy ladles his plate with about twice the amount anyone should, and declares to Cami loudly that he can finish it, easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. Rudy places a bet with Durante about whether he actually will (ten dollars, they shake on it). June flicks a pea at Zelda when no one is watching. Kajika and Ben whisper to each other in polite conversation – they're still in front of the king and queen, after all. It's like a nice, family atmosphere, if a family were as nuclear as this one.

I drift in and out of the conversation as I eat, but when Roy winces suddenly my attention is snagged.

"Back aching again?" asks Cami sympathetically.

"Yeah." He rolls his shoulders. "Yeah. Maybe I should invest in a standing desk. Think that would help?"

"It would help if you weren't looking down all day, Your Majesty," says Durante.

"Blame the Resurgence. It would be nice not to have a look down at their damage reports all the time."

"Rebel attacks? More of them?" I say, my voice immediately on edge. "Have they been frequent?"

"Frequent, but small—"

"No," Cami says at once. "No. We came here to get away from all that. Can we please have a nice dinner discussion instead?"

Roy acquiesces at once, but I sit back, consider arguing, and eventually go quiet. I mean… I knew the rebels were hurting, biting back where they could, but to this amount? They may be small but they're indicative of a larger problem, a larger problem I'm creating. My thoughts leap to Max, and his involvement, and my heart palpitates… but no. Nothing's come of that development yet. Max is okay for now.

"Well, in that case," Rudy clears his throat, "I have a fun announcement to make. I've organised your next excursion, Your Highness."

Ah. Speaking of another problem I created.

"I don't know how well you keep up with our local hockey teams, but the Angeles All-Star's second women's team is doing extremely well in a province-wide tournament. We've been invited to watch their next match, against the Hesparian Hares, at the local rink in a few days."

There is such a variety of reactions it's comic. Roy continues to eat, unaffected. Cami smiles pleasantly. Ben goes "ooo!" in excitement and Kajika's neutral face remains placidly neutral. June crunches a carrot. Both Durante and Zelda grimace, knowing that we have no concrete plan yet. Yet they all fixate on me, waiting for my reaction.

And I have been practicing.

"Oh my GOSH! I am SO excited! The Angeles All-Farts!"

"Stars," says Rudy.

"Stars! I am… beyond happy! My happiness is as high as the ceiling right now! Very… happy! SO HAPPY!"

Zelda facepalms.

"I'm glad you're excited, Your Highness," says Rudy. "Roy's already given his permission for you to go. He'll be in attendance as well."

"Must beat doing paperwork all day, right?" Roy says wryly.

I bristle at the tone.

"Then there will be a meet-and-greet afterwards with the teams. Photo ops, too. I think they should like to get one with you and the whole team."

My grin wobbles. I am so doomed. "Yay!"

"And Bellona Strike is their manager." Rudy puffs out his chest. "You'll get to meet her. I know you and Zelda are huge fans."

"We were," Zelda corrects, picking her nails. "Not so much anymore."

Rudy grin drops, and something shadows his features for a moment, before it goes, replaced with a hard exterior.

"I see. Why?"

"She's a douchebag."

Rudy splutters. "Zelda!"

"Giant ignoramus, then," Zelda corrects.

"Douchebag!" June pipes.

"Zelda, your language, please," Rudy snaps, as Durante hushes June. "How do you know she's a bad person?"

"Because I just do, Rudy."

"Did she do something bad on social media?"

"No." She looks meaningfully at me. Help me, diffuse this, but they're bartering too quickly for me to keep up. "No, she's just not a nice person."

"Have you ever met her? How can you know?"

"I just know."

"That's a terrible excuse."

"Would you just drop it?" she snaps. "I'll go and meet her if you want."

"Then I hope it's with a better attitude than you have right now."

"Wow!" Zelda cackles mockingly. Uh oh. "Wow, so, I tell you I don't like her, and suddenly I have attitude?"

The table is so silent I can hear June's stomach gurgling unpleasantly. Rudy's face darkens.

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Stop telling me to watch my tone when you should get your nose out of my business."

"I have had enough!" Rudy yells. "You are grounded. For a week! You're not allowed to go to the match at all!"

If the blow hurts Zelda, she masks it beneath her bared teeth. "Good! If you bothered to listen to anything I just said, you'd know I don't even like her!"

Rudy growls. "Zelda Bezuidenhout—"

"Oh please!" Zelda yells. "Yelling that name like it's my actual one!"

I withhold a gasp. Cami drops her fork.

Rudy hesitates. "It is your name—"

She stands. "No, it's not, because that would mean I'm related to you!"

Rudy jerks back. "Zelda—"

"I'm just some kid you pitied and picked up of the street. You're not my father, no matter how much you pretend to be!"

Without waiting, she heads to the front door and slams it behind her.

Absolute silence blankets the room. Nothing and no one moves. Not even June, who has gone quiet, her face stricken. She sniffles once, shattering the pause, and Durante hurries goes to pick her up in his arms to comfort.

Rudy, too, is lost for words. He's trying to hide it beneath a veneer – a thin veil of apathy – but his eyes betray him, betray the bloated hurt that coils around him like overfed vines.

He swallows. His Adam's apple bobs. "I… I should go talk to her."

"No." At once I realise it's me who's spoken. The table watches as I rise. "No. I'll… I'll go."

"It should be me."

"I think Her Highness is right," says Durante, as June buries her head into his neck, gurgling. "Please, go talk to her."

Chastened, Rudy sinks low in his chair, and I head for the door.

Zelda can't go far. The houses on this street are far apart – a thick chunk of rocky land between each of them, sometimes pockmarked with pools and tennis courts – but with the king's presence and Zelda's importance to the royal family, a handful of the guards shadow her as she stomps down the driveway to the low-rise wall and plonks herself down, tearing out the moss that gathers on the surface.

Hyper aware of how the tide of wind crawls uneasily against my cheeks, how loud my boots crunch against dirt and gravel, I approach her like how I'd approach an angry snake. Knowing full well I'll probably get bitten.

"Go away," she calls, when I'm a few feet away.

"It's me."

She hesitates, glances around as if to confirm my voice is my own, and turns back, facing the empty, darkened road. "Fine." And she shuffles over to make room. The moss is dirtied from neglect and wet from a recent rain, but I ease onto it anyway, knowing that her feelings are more important than the state of my dress.

It's hard to know what to say. Where do I begin? Apologising?

"Don't," she says suddenly.

"Don't what?"

"You're going to say you're sorry, or some stupid shit like that, when it's neither your fault nor is it something you can be sorry about happening." She digs her fingernails into the moss. "I just— he doesn't understand me. He never has. He's so concerned that I act the proper palace lady, or whatever, that he doesn't care a dime about me and what I want."

I can definitely see that. Rudy and Durante have burdened the responsibility of being the face of the monarchy almost as much as Roy and Cami have, and they've easily fed that burden onto their daughters.

"And I try to get through to him, but he's so— so damn narrow-minded. Like, he can't be sympathetic for me at all, that I don't like Bellona Strike? Oh, I'm sorry, Zelda. I didn't know, you know? If he knew the real reason I didn't like her he'd be demanding we go just so he can lecture her."

The mental image causes me to smile. "I think he cares… he just doesn't know how to express it."

"Oh yeah. He has real problems with June."

We lull into silence again, perforated each time Zelda tears up the moss and tosses it onto the road. In the far distance, Los Angeles sings in the night, but it is a sad tune, a nostalgic lament, like a mug of coffee gone cold.

"I…" Zelda starts again. "Ugh… I don't even know how to describe it, Gail. He's such a pain in the ass."

I risk it. "Don't you think you can be a bit of a, ahem, pain in the butt, too?"

"I—" I can see the argument waiting on the tip of her tongue, but it never comes forwards. "Yeah."

"You always… assume the worst when it comes to Mr Rudy."

"In fairness, I have good reason." Her thumb catches in the moss, pauses. "But… I just want him to listen, for once. Is that too much to ask for? My real dad—" She hesitates suddenly. "He got me instantly. My real mom, too. I… I miss them. I miss them every day."

I take her hand, thumb the back. "I know."

"Every damn day I wonder if maybe there was something I could do. I could've— should've convinced them not to go driving, or something. It's irrational, I know," she says at my doused expression, "but I think it nonetheless."

"You know Rudy would never want to replace your parents, right?"

"I know."

"You know he's only trying to be another dad, as opposed to a replacement dad, right?"

Zelda is silent a moment.

"Yeah, I know. And I know I'm being shitty since your dad… you know."

"Got murdered?"

"All right, all right." She shakes her head, laughs. "Damn you and your… wisdom."

"I have lots of wisdom to offer. You just never ask me."

"Oh, yeah, it was definitely wisdom that told you that the sandcastle you made on the beach when we were thirteen would survive being transported back to the palace."

My cheeks puff. "That sandcastle took me hours! I was attached!"

Zelda bursts out laughing. I grin – the memory is so silly, embarrassing even, but the sentiments I will cherish forever.

Crunch. Both Zelda and I turn around. Mr Rudy waits a modest distance away, watching with a wary, crestfallen expression, his hands intertwined, fingers restless. He wants to talk to her, too, in the way that I do – in a way he'll understand.

Zelda folds into herself again, watches the road. "What do you want?"

"To talk," he calls. "Please."

I smile at Zelda. "Is that what you want?"

A pause, a beat, stretching almost infinitely between the three of us, but she eventually nods. "Yeah. Let him come."

"Want me to stay?"

"Nah. Your dinner's probably cold by now. And I need someone to stop Joseph from breaking out the damn baby photos."

I give her a sidelong hug anyway. She squeezes back.

"Thanks, Gail."

"I'll always be your best friend, Zel."

I give Rudy a reassuring smile as I make my way back up the path. A glance over my shoulder confirms that Rudy has sat on the lip of the mossy stone wall besides her – also withholding his disgust – and the two talk quietly, animatedly. Politely.

Inside, the dining table is doing its best to come back to its spirits. Durante is still bouncing June in his arms. Cami is pouring everyone more wine. I spot Roy, however, levelling his fork at Ben and Kajika, of which both of whom look like they're about to dissolve into dust.

"— and your philanthropy projects?"

"Yes, sir," Ben says, somehow managing to maintain a cool voice despite his face being sapped of colour. "I've already planned mine and contacted the necessary people. I'm now just writing it out."

"I see. And you?" Roy asks Kajika.

"I have thought about it," says Kajika.

"What? Just thought? The live broadcast is coming up soon! You need to be prepared! You need to be ready! You need to have everything done! You need—"

"You need a thesaurus, dear," says Cami, lowering his fork arm with exasperation and topping up his wine. Generously. "I'm sure Kajika knows what he's doing."

"Do you?" Roy says, leering at him.

Kajika nods.

"Ah, Gail," Cami ushers me over, hurrying for a subject change. "Everything okay?"

I take my seat. "Yeah, I think everything will be okay."

She seems relieved – everyone does. "I'm glad she is better," says Kajika.

"As am I," Durante chimes. Even June seems lighter now that he's sang to her. He reaches for one of the cupboard doors and pulls out a thick folder, grinning. "How about, for now, we take a look at the girls' baby photos?"

Everyone choruses so delightedly that I can't even attempt to stop them, and so the baby photos are shared out, including all of Zelda's bathing adventures from when she was a tiny human. There are ones where she is particularly clingy of a pink rubber duck, ones where she splashes the walls, and ones where she is being tickled into a fit of giggles, the hands of her mother and father peering in from around the frame.

It seems almost ages before Rudy and Zelda return inside. I'm surprised to see Rudy's jacket over Zelda's shoulders – it must've been cold out there, and her cheeks are pink. The rest of us have finished dinner now.

"I—" Zelda starts, as the rest of us hush. "I'm sorry for yelling. And being a do— er, giant ignoramus."

Rudy smiles down at her. She smiles up at him. I know bad blood can't drain in a couple of shared moments, but it seems, for now, they've made a solid start.

"Your dinners have gone cold," says Durante. "Want me to microwave them?"

Both Rudy and Zelda wave him off – the gesture mirrors each other. I grin. Maybe they've picked up more from each other than they've thought.

"No, no. Let's just have dessert," says Rudy.

So to a great cry of delight, Durante breaks out the apple pie and ice cream. Zelda finds herself back in her chair, prodding Ben about the Canaries, snickering into Kajika's shoulder at the bad jokes, despairing at the sight of her baby photos in Roy and Cami's hands as they coo and tease.

I smile and laugh along. Maybe I have all these things crashing down upon me right now, but if there's one thing the rebels can't take away, one thing I have over the Resurgence, it's that I'll always have the memories of moments like these to cherish.

We return to the palace at about eleven. Everyone is tired – especially Roy and Cami, who let themselves go a little too much with the wine – but I escort Ben and Kajika back to their quarters before wending my way down the hallways for my own.

Just as I'm about to round the corner towards the royal quarters, I hear a tell-tale giggle. High-pitched, girly, yet as rusty as a bird who rarely sings. Sounds like Lilly. Curious, I peer up the flight of stairs and tiptoe up to where I hear the tiniest pitter-patter of movement. Fingers fluttering, clothes rustling, breath inhaling and exhaling in short, sharp bursts.

Upstairs, the hallway is lit by a warm, orange glow, exuding from the sconces on the wall. Usually the palace use spotlights installed into the ceilings, so it's unusual to see the little flames dancing translucent shadows like restless ghosts. It's not any particular occasion, and it's not like Lilly is someone we would go all out for.

As the floor plateaus, I step around the wall. Lilly and JJ are standing, side on in my view, staring into the garden through the windows. Both are dressed impeccably well; JJ adorns a suit, not unlike him, and Lilly as usual wears a bright, floral gown, this one sweeping just below her knees. Their hands move fleetingly, but when they do, it's a burst of conversation, eager, upbeat.

Lilly and JJ, huh? My mouth parts in a large, sly grin. I think back to their brief moment at the playdate with Tay, June and Easton, and even now, Lilly seems fixated on JJ, bathed in moonlight on one side and firelight on the other. Her lips are cherry red, pursed with intrigue, joy. She catches me watching and her smile lulls in surprise, but JJ's attention is elsewhere. He lifts a champagne flute from the window sill and draws a long sip.

She makes a gentle shooing gesture at me.

Oh? Why? I nod and creep back around the stairwell wall. A second later I dare to peer around. Is she going to tell JJ her feelings?

Lilly clears her throat, a sound that, in the silence, reverberates along the hallway. JJ faces her then. His body blocks some of the signs but I can parse them in context.

"I enjoy being here with you."

Heheh! This is it! JJ puts his glass down. His body still faces the window.

"I enjoy being here with you, too."

"I really mean it, JJ." Her slender fingers sign quickly, almost too quickly, for me to keep up. "I have never met a man so compassionate, funny, and sweet."

JJ hesitates. I wish desperately I could see his face. Why is he pausing?

Lilly continues. "I love spending time with you, and Easton. I feel most myself when you're near."

"Lilly…" JJ says, voice straggled.

In the lambent glow Lilly's cheeks burn even brighter. "I would never wish to replace your wife, I know, but I thought… perhaps…" Her signs fluster, stutter. "Perhaps we could get dinner together?"

I inhale a long breath, very aware that I am holding it.

The cuteness never comes. JJ takes the flute glass, downs the whole thing, then places it back on the sill. His eyes are focused on the ground, the floor, anything but her, and I feel of pang of shock when she reaches for his hands, and he recoils and takes a step back.

I can't see what he signs, but he speaks nonetheless.

"I can't… I'm sorry."

He turns around and immediately spots me. His expression is so… lost. So uneasy. Confused and astray, like a leaf on the wind that will never touch the ground. My fingers go rigid around the wall, thinking he might berate me, yell at me, admonish me like the last time I oversaw a conversation between them, but he simply brushes passed me and hurries down the hallway.

I turn back. Tears bead in Lilly's eyelashes like dewy pearls, but before I can go to her in comfort, she turns and runs the other way, her sobs ricocheting against the walls.

A/N: Hello everyone! Ahhh so much has happened! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. :D

Happy Valentine's Day! If you're celebrating with partners or friends, or not celebrating at all, I hope this adds a little bit of fictional love into your life (not like JJ and Lilly, LMAO). Rebel attacks, Silas' scolding, the date with Ben, Zelda and Rudy, and now JJ has rejected Lilly...? Gail has a lot on her plate, and unlike Roy, she's quite sure she can't chew through it all...

A big thank you to Abizeau for our latest casualty of the Selection, Elliot Sawyer! I loved his loveable, broski attitude, and it was fun to write his and Gail's interactions. Alas, the pool has to thin. (Though you'll be glad to know he does not greet his exile in vengeance for the death of his moose.)

Thanks for reading! Excited to see your reactions, as always.

And because people didn't want the tagline thing from tsats to return...

THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE. 52.

~ GWA

NTT: "He's such a DILF."