A/N: Hello everyone! Well. 57 was a wild ride wasn't it? Gail's secret is now out there. Will she survive a perilous encounter with the Second and her rebels? Read on...

A big thanks to Headless Gummy Bear for Silas! Ah, my snarky cynical adopted son. He was definitely in contention to win, but I figured he would be less than thrilled at the whole Selection-from-spite turn of events. He was one of my favourites to write just for his sheer dry wit and humour, and he will be missed.

I also want to not thank GreenWithAwesome for Sheng. What a terrible character; I'm so glad he's eliminated.

Jokes aside, Sheng was extraordinarily fun to write as well. In tsats I had Riley Aldaine, an old flame of Roy's, to explore the potential sparks that come from relationships past, and I wanted to dive into that at a deeper level with Gail and Sheng, especially since they were so fresh from the break-up. Sheng's been rather unpopular as a character over the fic, but to me he symbolises how relationships require true commitment of the head as well as the heart. He had a lot of personal baggage of his own that ultimately Gail wasn't prepared to shoulder with him. Has the Selection changed him? That's up to you...

Back onto this chapter. 57 is like the baby that you need to wrangle to get it to sleep. You love it but by god are you frustrated. I had to edit and rewrite and cut this like four times. Hopefully this works. Please don't kill me if it doesn't, future Green.

As always, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!

Enjoy!

"So that's why you needed a fake passport."

The Second towers over me, gait sturdy on the wet ice, even as I come a wobbly stand. The deep, thunderous crackle beneath my feet is the only sound I can hear amongst the taut silence, despite the wailing and screaming coming from the crowds behind the Plexiglas walls. My leg throbs from the open wound of the Second's knife, and my skate tremors as I put weight on it.

I have to escape.

"That was a mystery to us," the Second continues, drawing the blade close to her face, as if sniffing the blood on the tip. My blood. "Something we didn't get. But now it makes sense. I can't believe it. We had Princess Gail in our clutches at the races and we let her get away. Not today."

My options are limited. There are rebels everywhere, laying their knees on the backs of the Angeles All-Stars. Beverly, Jocelyn and Wendy whimper with fear Janet's watching me with a gawping mouth, even with a rebel on top of her, and Felice is struggling, fighting and spitting against the weight of three heavily-armed bodies. They have to pin down her arms and legs to get her to stop.

"Let them go, and I'll come willingly."

"Hmm." The Second insults me by pretending to consider. "No, I think we'll keep them, as insurance."

I glance behind me, at the big screen. My face, inflated tenfold by the camera-wielding rebel to my right, is lacquered with sweat, runny make-up, and even droplets of blood. My hair clings to my face, my back patched with damp. I still have my contacts in, so even though my eyes are eerie, wrong, they illuminate my panic with a sickly olive sheen.

"So, will you come willingly now?" The Second draws my attention back. "Or should I give you some motivation?"

Out of my periphery vision, I see a blade glint, but I refuse to focus on it.

"What will you do with me?"

"Kill you, of course. You were always my least favourite of your family. So insipid, so naïve. It was insulting." Her whole body shakes with some twisted pleasure. "I look forward to carving you up first. Then I'll take the rest of your family."

I've never much thought about death. It seems like such a faraway concept, something that wouldn't happen to me for many years, many decades. Only unlucky people die when they're young. I must be the unluckiest of all, if this is how I'll leave the world. My throat is tight with anticipation, but I swallow a lump, force it down, and shakily make my way towards her.

"No!" shrieks Felice. "You can't let them do this to you, Gail!"

My real name on her lips is a jarring sound, but it doesn't stop me.

"Don't do it, Gail!" Beverly cries.

"You have to fight!" Janet yells.

Soon the All-Stars are screaming affirmations, filling my empty body with gratitude and my eyes with more tears. The rebels bang their heads against the ice or kick them in the jaws, shutting them up, but it's enough to know that, even though I deceived them for so long, they still have my back. They are still my sisters.

It's either me or them, and I choose them, every time.

The Second ushers me close to her. She pulls down her mask, revealing a cracked pair of lips on a forgettable face, long jowls and pale skin. I don't know who she is. Someone with a vendetta. Someone whom I failed in life. She places the warmed knife to my cheek and tips the edge to catch one of my tears. It mingles with my blood.

"See you in hell," she whispers, "Princess—"

The full-body tackle comes from nowhere. I stumble backwards as the Second and the attacker sprawl onto the ground. A leg goes out, smacking the Second in the face, and she cries out as blood spurts from her crooked nose. More people pour out from the Plexiglas, mowing down the Rebel Resurgence before they even have time to draw their own weapons in defence.

The attacker draws up and delivers another kick to the Second's stomach. Then they turn to me, and yank down their hood. A full head of black, corkscrew hair comes free.

"We have to get you out of here," says Mariam Noboru. "Now."

I'm too shocked to struggle when she grabs my arm and pulls us to the rink door. I all but stumble into the benches. Mariam tosses my bag at me and a flak jacket.

"Hurry up!"

It's so weird seeing her speak when all I had before was a detached voice. Her lulling, monotonous tone jumps with some form of urgency as I lob the skates off my feet and put on my runners, and then strap the jacket around my chest. It's too big, too bulky, but it will do its job. At the same time, she takes out some bandage to tie haphazardly around my injured leg.

"That will have to do. Can you run?"

"I-I think so. But—"

Again she grabs me before I can finish, and we race down the halls of Glendale Ice Rink. People run the opposite way – rebels, I realise, but not the ones on the Second's side. These rebels side with Mariam. The true Resurgence. Only a strip of white cloth on their legs makes them discernible from the Second's faceless mass of followers, their boots a drumbeat on the ground.

"Wait, but— the team!" I cry, as we burst through the doors. Night haunts the area, so identifying the location of distant gunfire is impossible. My muscles tense with fear. "A-And Zelda, my best friend—!"

"I've got agents getting them to safety. Let's go!"

She drags me to a motorcycle left on the side, and kicks on the ignition. No helmet, no safety vest, no nothing. I get on the back, and Mariam hops on the front.

"Hold onto me, and keep your head down!"

I do as she asks, but I am almost paralysed with fear when the motorcycle takes off. I barely breathe when not one, but two gunshots go off, and a bullet pings across the road, but neither of us are hit. The city din is chaotic and stressful as we hurtle down the blocks until we enter the freeway. I can't even feel any relief that there's no more gunfire.

We pelt down the freeway, going faster than the speed limit. Cars honk and people flash rude signs as we shoot passed them. My hair flings out like ribbons behind me, and I keep my head ducked to avoid tasting the curly locks of Mariam's, too.

"Where are we going?" I shout.

"Away from here!" she yells back, voice almost hidden by the airstream. "Why did you go back to the rink?"

"What?"

"I knew it was you when I met you in the parking lot, Your Highness," she says, tensing beneath my arms. "I knew you would report me to the authorities when you got back. But why the hell would you go back to the rink knowing the Second had blackmail on you?"

How does she know about that? "Because—" But it seems silly now, when I think about it. "Because I wanted to."

Her derisive snort is lost to the noise of the freeway, but I feel its punctuation in her chest nonetheless.

"My brother didn't capture you?"

"Of course not. I'd prepared for being discovered the moment I was made the Voice. I put my family into hiding and then I took off."

"I-Is Rose okay?"

She tenses again. "I…I hope so."

That's not very reassuring, but there are bigger issues. "What happens now?"

"We get you to a safe house to recoup." She curses at an incoming crossroad, but braces, doesn't bother to warn me as she soars passed the stoplights, between perpendicular traffic, and gets us to the other side with only a few honks of the horn. "The Second's teamed up with the Washingtons, chaos makers who don't care about whether their exploits end in death. They're out for blood. Your blood. The Second was more than happy to come to a deal with them."

"I thought the Resurgence was supposed to be about peaceful protest!" I roar. "I thought you had everything under control!"

But it's with a haunted tone that she says, "So did I."

My heart jackhammers against my ribs, but I don't have time to process. Something silver ricochets off the tarmac. I dare a glance behind. There are five bikes in hot pursuit, weapons clutched in their gloves hands. All aimed at me.

"Mariam!" I screech, as the closest nocks the gun again.

Mariam leans forwards. "Now!"

Our bike swerves evasively as another materialises from behind a van. The biker nudges the wheel of the bad guy, and they spiral out of control. One down. Then they take a pistol to the second assailant's tyre. Steam rushes out, and soon the bad guy is crashing to the ground. I see the wild flash of a grin, and a sharp cut of dark brown hair on dark brown skin.

"N-Naomi?!"

Naomi can't hear me. She's almost unrecognisable in the body armour she's wearing, paired with black combats. She wields her vehicle with ease, darting between the traffic to dispose of the third like she's picking out blades of grass. Naomi bows her head, refocuses on the road. Only then do I notice a flutter of black hair over her shoulder. Zelda.

The relief I feel is so powerful I almost let go of Mariam.

Naomi's pistol goes for the fourth bad guy, but he peels back, hiding behind a truck. That's when another familiar bike leaps out from the unwieldy forest of apartment buildings to the side and crashes down onto the road, wobbling but upright. Max raises his gun and has disabled the fourth and fifth rebels before they can fire another volley of shots. My heart soars when I see him – almost physically into my throat, because beneath the helmet, he looks okay. He's alive. And he hasn't been caught by the Washingtons.

Max holsters the gun and adjusts his position again, arms like steel as they grip onto the handles.

"W-When—?" I stammer, but Mariam grunts.

"There will be more when we make the turn-off." Now I realise she's talking into some device attached to the motorcycle's console. It must link her to Naomi and Max. "Get ready."

I brace myself for more gunfire, wishing I could make myself as small as possible. A shape comes up next to me; I dare a glance up, through Mariam's tresses, to see Zelda grinning back at me on the back of Naomi's ride. We become level with each other.

"You okay?" she yells.

"I've been better!" I yell back. My leg still hurts like heck. "You?"

"Scared as shit! But I also got to punch a rebel in the face, so it's not all that bad!"

Naomi pulls away at an incoming wall of cars, but Zelda's nervous laugh echoes across the air. The five of us power through to the other side, coming to a criss-cross of an intersection. Mariam banks left for the ramp, taking us closer to the mountains. Naomi and Max follow.

"Bogeys, four—" Mariam hisses. "Damn it!"

I peek around her torso. It is four bad guys, way ahead, but they've created a miniature road block of built-up cars. Civilians are inside, beeping and yelling out of windows. We won't slow in time.

"Brace yourself, Highness!"

We lose car cover before she finishes saying my title. The rebels open fire; Mariam spins us around and tips the bike rightwards, so that the motorcycle itself provides some basic form of cover. Tarmac juggles me until I hit the back of the bike, starbursts in my eyes.

Mariam pushes the bike with her back to keep it somewhat upright. Bullets glint against the road next to us. "You unharmed?"

Miraculously. "Y-Yes."

She draws her pistol and fires off from over the motorcycle. Then she drops back down. I can hear Max zoom along and dispatch the rebels, and Naomi taking cover with one of their own vehicles, hiding Zelda from the fray.

"Bastards have tracer bullets," she mutters. "If they blow the bike's fuel tank—"

The bike jolts. Gasoline oozes from a pipe that definitely does not look like it should be oozing gasoline, creating a sinister rainbow on the tarmac. I grab Mariam and break into a hobble-run just before another wayward bullet pings against the motorcycle. The force of the explosion knocks me over again, scathing my hands and cheeks. My ears ring, my vision doubles. A hand grabs me – Max. I can't hear what he's saying, but he's taken off his helmet and roughly shoved it onto my head before pulls me to the back of his bike, and I shakily jump on.

When we're on the move again, my hearing returns.

"Gail," he calls. "Please tell me you're all right?"

I almost start crying at the sound of his voice. I huddle close to him, enveloped by his familiarity. His scent, a deep musk coated by diesel. The feel of him, warmth that radiates like a furnace, a heartbeat strong and staccato. The safety of him, the comfort of him, fills me with a sense of hope, despite the fact that given everything that's going on, it's pretty likely that I'm going to die.

"M-Mariam?" I stammer.

I glance backwards. Naomi and Zelda are on our tail. The rebels' blockade has been destroyed. Mariam— she can't be—

But a car emerges around the destruction, short and squat and obviously stolen. Mariam is behind the wheel, fast catching up to us.

"Hold tight, Gail," Max calls. "We're going to go fast."

Carefully, I squeeze him to let him know I heard, resisting the urge to cry again, and knot my hands around his chest. The muscles beneath the suit tense, but relax almost as instantly. Mariam catches up as we plunge seamlessly northwards on Route 210, approaching the hillier side of Los Angeles. I hold tight to Max, afraid that he might disappear like he did before if I let go.

After what must be about ten minutes, but feels like forever, Max eases the bike off the freeway and into side roads. The terrain is drier here, the grass wheat-gold on the protruding hills, and the cracked tarmac sluices up and down a gentle incline of the mountain's curve. Brambles and dead plants lace the roadside until Max finally cuts the engine deep within an addition, the single-storey houses separated by wide, open driveways. It reminds me of Zelda's place, but with none of the whimsical decoration on the outside. Dark figures stand watch at the windows, but there's only one car parked outside – it's… oddly familiar.

Max doesn't let up until he's jammed the key into the front door and let us in. Naomi, Zelda, Mariam and I follow. Immediately we come into a modest hallway, unembellished with anything that would make this a home instead of a house. A whip of blonde hair peers around the doorway from a living room.

That does it. Thick, hot tears run down my face. "A-Aderyn?"

"Gail!"

She comes forward to hug me, and I fall into her. I haven't seen her since the morning she was dismissed. Only a week ago, but a week too long. I never even got to say goodbye before I was arrested in my room, and I cry for the sorrow I've caused her.

"It's all right, you're safe, you're okay—" She gasps. "You're not okay! You're all scraped! And your leg!"

"Oh." I stand back, wipe my face with my purple sleeve, now spotted with blood red and dirt brown. "Y-Yes. I was s-stabbed."

"I need to look at it quickly, in case it's infected." She ushers me to the living room. "Come sit."

But when I pass the threshold, we're not alone.

Rose is on her feet. I forgot how tall she was at full height, with her lean, but powerful build and her afro of hair. On good days she decorates it with flowers, matching floral dungarees and quirky sneakers, but she's wearing none of that today. Her hair seems flat, her clothes are drab, and there are bags under her eyes, as deep as a baby's bib.

Naomi, Zelda and Mariam come into the room and promptly halt. Zelda looks like she's seen a ghost.

"Rose!" Mariam exclaims. "What—?" Then she glares at Aderyn. "I thought I told you—"

"I had to," Aderyn says firmly. "After… after the broadcast… I felt she was owed an explanation—"

"It's okay, Addie," says Rose, holding out her hand. "Mariam and Susanetta and Linkle can explain themselves to me. Or should I say the princess and her best friend?"

Max coughs discreetly and backs out the room. Naomi winces – ever the readable book – and follows him out. Despite the heated atmosphere, Aderyn forces me into the plaid armchair and unties the bandage, then rolls back the pant leg. The clotting blood is an ugly sight, but Aderyn nods like whatever is wrong is fixable, and sets about wetting cotton pads with iodine. I force myself to look Rose in the eyes and all the betrayal I see in them.

Zelda awkwardly wavers by the door, but Mariam comes forwards again. "You shouldn't be here."

"Well, I am," Rose retorts. "And I want answers. Right now."

"Rose—"

"No. You put Mom and Dad and I in some secret house that we've never seen before, never even knew you owned, and then you take off and disappear for days without contact, and that might of worked when we thought you were working, but I knew something was up, so I went back and I saw our home was raided!" Tears bead in her eyelashes. "So then I text Addie because of course I would because I'm scared, and she lets me stay at her place for a few days because I can't stand do nothing and know nothing, and then I see that— that awful livestream and suddenly one of my best friends is the princess and then Addie takes me here to keep us safe—"

"I couldn't tell you what I was doing," Mariam murmurs.

"That you were a rebel!" she shrieks. "That you were— you were wanted for terrorising people!"

Mariam closes her mouth, chastened.

"A-And you two," then her focus is on me and Zelda, and I feel all the blood drain from my body, "you lied to me. From the very first day we met."

Zelda exchanges a worried glance at me. "We had to—"

"You made me think we had a genuine friendship! You made me think I could tell you anything and everything! But you were just laughing at me the whole time, right? Stupid Rose Lamb who doesn't even know she's in the presence— in the presence of royalty!" She takes a long, tremoring breath. "A-And I don't know if anything we shared was real—"

"It was real." I stand so suddenly I almost knock over Aderyn. Pain be darned, I hobble over to her and take her hands. "I… I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for pretending to be someone I'm not. And… and I'm sorry for putting you and your family in danger. The truth is I didn't want to be Princess Gail when I was at the rink, when I was with the other girls and you. I just wanted to be Gail. And I couldn't have that, so I had to create this whole persona, a-and this whole backstory—" My throat burns from trying to swallow a lump. "But if there was one thing I felt sure of, it was that you were so wonderful and amazing and funny and sweet, and that I wouldn't ever want to give up our friendship for the whole world."

Zelda joins us. "Damn right. We were never laughing at you, I promise. We loved hanging out with you, just being normal, enjoying your stories and laughter and friendship." Her jaw clenches and she quietly swipes her sleeve over her eyes. "Lying to you about our identities was the shittiest thing we had to do, but everything else was real. Really real. We love you so much, Rose."

I nod. "Yes. We love you lots."

Rose sniffles, and then she falls into a tight hug with us. "I love you both lots too."

We hold each other for moments, savouring the comfort of the touch, before Zelda starts giggling then, and suddenly we're all giggling, a squishy huddle of teary-eyed, giggling girls. Rose stands back and sniffles.

"I'm still mad, but… but I guess I get where you're coming from. No more secrets?"

"No more secrets," I say.

"And no more lies?"

"No more lies," Zelda says.

"Okay… okay. Good." Rose nods. "S-So, erm, what… what do I call you instead, if not Linkle and Susanetta?"

Zelda grins. "You can call me Zelda Vivas Bezuidenhout-Leeuwenhoek."

"O-Oh, that's a long surname. Bezoodenhat-Leewenhook?"

"I'll teach you."

"And—" Rose gulps, looking at me. "S-Should I curtsy—?"

"Definitely not," I laugh. "I'm Gail. Nice to meet you."

"H-Hi Gail." Her eyes glisten with tears, but also with awe. "I-I'm Rose."

We shake hands. It's very proper, but it feels good, that I can smile at her as Gail, and not as the faker Susanetta. Like a new beginning.

"If you don't mind, Rose," Aderyn says dryly, "I'd like to steal Gail back because her leg is bleeding."

Sheepish, I sit back down, barely cognisant of the trickle of blood running down my leg. "Friendship is more important than a wound."

"Erm," Zelda points between Aderyn and Rose, "you two… you're okay, right?"

Rose grins. "We're okay. We already had this conversation."

"I told her the adopted-family thing was fake, but I didn't think it was my place to talk about who you two were exactly," Aderyn clarifies as she staves the bleeding. "But then you had to get livestreamed, so…"

"And… and me?"

I almost forgot Mariam was here. She stands by the window, watching our exchange with her head bowed. Rose's grin fades, and she clasps her hands together.

"You and I have a lot to talk about."

Mariam takes a deep breath. "Yes, I… that's fair."

They go to talk in private, and I ache to know what's being said, but I know it's not for my ears. I still have so many questions for Mariam myself, after all. Aderyn cleans up my leg and applies fresh bandages, and then offers me a change of clothes from the emergency stash. Her knowing all my measurements by heart, she was able to easily procure a sweater (pink), pants (dark pink) and sneakers (dusk pink) for me to wear, and I refresh in the master bedroom upstairs. My green contacts finally go in the trash – I have no use for them anymore. From the kitchen, Aderyn and Naomi shout with food, and I head into the hallway only to run into Max.

He's changed too. Flexible but sturdy cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt, doing very little to hide his muscle. Another wave of emotion hits me hard – I thought all my tears were spent, but seeing him here, standing in front of me, whole and well, liquefies my vision.

He wraps me up in his arms in seconds, allowing me to sob, cry, ball my hands into fists and hit him on the chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into my hair.

"Y-You ran, and I was so worried, and I thought your brother or grandfather had got you, a-and I was sure you were dead—"

"I'm sorry," he says again, quieter this time. "I couldn't stay after knowing the rebel contact… JJ… was compromised, and then I couldn't risk contacting you to tell you I was okay."

"So how… you and Mariam working together? And Naomi?"

"We met at the rink, a few hours before the game. All three of us, coming for you. Naomi and Aderyn had kept in contact too so Mariam told us to converge here, at this safe house." His breathing is laboured. "Are you hurt?"

"Besides my leg, I'm fine."

"Are you, Gail?" he asks softly. "Are you fine?"

I shut my eyes. He squeezes me again, envelops me so wholly that for a moment, I forget what's happening. All I can feel is him.

"No," I whimper into his shirt. "No, I'm not fine."

"You went through a lot. Do you… want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. Now doesn't seem right for talking. "Can we just… stand here, for a second?"

He obliges, holding me, letting me expel the last of my tears until I have nothing left to cry for. Everything has caught up to me, and suddenly I'm overwhelmed with the urge to sleep. Baking with Tay and Silas, then yelling at Sheng seems like a thousand years ago. My Selection, a distant dream, a memory long past.

The faces of my loved ones blot out the thought. Tay, Omma. Ben, Kingsley, Sheng, Soren, Max. Cami and Zelda. Roy. My throat prickles with another sob. We parted on such bad terms. I hope I haven't missed my opportunity to make amends.

Roy and I may argue, but I love him very much, and I always will.

"Are you hungry?" Max whispers, breaking the thought.

I lift my chin to look at his face, but find only softness. None of the hard, battle-worn energy he wore like a mask earlier. Startlingly his dark hair has been shorn off on one side, where now runs a short but shallow scar. It's still red and fresh, barely sealed.

"A little." Now I'm distracted. I reach up to the scar, touch it by instinct. "What— what happened?"

"Bullet nearly got me earlier," he mumbles, shivering.

It's just a relief to see his face. See the cute little smile that eases his lips.

"I'm glad it didn't," I whisper.

He swallows thickly. His eyes are low.

"Gail—"

"Why did you come back?" I ask, before he can say anything else. "You're wanted by the law and the rebels. If you'd left after breakfast you could've been halfway to South America by now. You could've laid low. Why… why stay?"

He raises his hand, thumbs my cheek gently – so tenderly, it's like feathers on my skin.

"I couldn't leave you," he chokes out. "I won't risk your life."

I can't help but laugh through my tears. "It's a little late for that."

"I know. And I will make amends." He inhales deeply. "Decree it, Gail."

His assertiveness causes my good leg to shudder. "W-What?"

"You promised me you would do anything to stay safe. So I promise you that I will do everything I can to protect you, that I will always have your back, and that I will always be there whenever you need me." His lips touch my hair. "Decree it, Gail, and I will make it true."

I raise my head again, reaching around his neck, and tug him into a kiss. He startles at first, stunned into stillness, but the second is gone, and he's quick to pull me in, pull me closer until our bodies are flush, until our lips are together. He kisses eagerly, feverishly, like I am the air that he needs, and when he breaks us apart, his breath is hot and heady.

"Then I make it true," I whisper, beaming. "And I know you can't dispute a royal decree."

Max hesitates. Then he's smiling too, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Everyone watches Max and me with knowing eyes when we finally enter the kitchen, after a, ahem, prolonged session of hugging and kissing. Our hands part, but I hope he senses the promise of later between us, and we go to sit down at the table and eat the pasta Aderyn and Naomi have prepared. It's so plain – literally oil with garlic and a hint of chili, but I devour the plate whole and go for seconds. Maybe I was hungrier than I thought.

Mariam stands at the head of the table, assessing us. Rose and Zelda are opposite, also eating their weight in food. Some other rebels with the white cloth tied around their legs meander through the kitchen and hallway, giving us space to talk, and Aderyn and Naomi linger at the kitchen counter, Aderyn nervously wringing a tea towel with might.

"We can't stay here for long," Mariam says, opening the conversation I've been dreading since before I even got here. "With the Resurgence compromised, there's no telling how much the Second knows about my lesser-known operations. This safe house is one of them. I don't doubt for a moment that she won't be searching everywhere for us. We've left an online trail to send her forces elsewhere, but it won't be long before she discovers it's a ruse."

On a normal day I would wait until I've finished chewing before speaking. It's what I've been taught is polite. However, right now, I don't care what's proper. I bare the chewy mush in my mouth for all to see as I say, "What exactly happened to cause this break?"

Mariam's gaze hooks on me. Now that we're not running for our lives, I can trace the deep worry lines that contour her face, and the eyes that are as depthless as the ocean. She may have saved me this one time, but she's still the Voice, still the woman who incited thefts and law-breaking for her ideals, and I must not forget that, even if she is related to Rose.

"It's been building up for some time, I suspect. When I took over the moniker of leader for the Rebel Resurgence, I was fully aware I would have to work to rehabilitate those with more extremist views. Those who wanted a return of the Southern Rebels. I wanted to capitalise on that drive, that passion, while shifting the focus onto more peaceful methods of change. That's why," she murmurs, "I wanted to recruit you."

No one in the room is shocked. She must've told them all beforehand. I steel at the words.

"I never wanted to join the Resurgence."

"You may not know it, Your Highness, but your hesitation was just one factor that caused the split." I go to argue, but she holds up her hand. "I don't blame you for your decision, and as I said, there were many other factors, the Second being most of them, that affected us, but I won't sugar-coat the situation and tell you that your support wouldn't have prevented this in the long run."

That's so not fair, I want to retort, but I don't. This is bigger than me now.

"So the Second did this?" I remember when we met at the Hollywood sign, where she was flicking that knife and snapping back to Mariam over video call. "She's always wanted your spot?"

"It's more than that," Mariam murmurs. "The Second is cutthroat, ruthless, but efficient, and that's what made her a reliable second-in-command. She is also, however, impatient, and that combined with her cold brutality made her eventually resentful of my firm but polite leadership. In the end, we are opposites. She has always wanted power, and I always wanted peace."

"It was never about peace, Mariam!" My throat tightens. "Even before the Second defected, it was all smoke and mirrors with you. Disturbing pride parades and raiding supply routes and thieving innocents and making the whole of Illéa panic… that was the best way to achieve peace?"

But Mariam laughs coldly. "You still have so much to learn, Gail Schreave. When has change ever come from small, quiet requests? In our nation's entire history, change has only ever come from large shifts in thinking, loud protests, persistency and undying determination. Change is bold, and often bloody, but it is a necessary fight." She regards me coolly. "Maybe the Proposed Changes to Illéan Infrastructure was a monumental task to achieve in such a short timeline, but there are the unlucky many who cannot afford to wait."

I swallow my pasta hard.

"I do concede, however," Mariam says, softening as she glances at a stricken Rose opposite me, "that perhaps I was naïve. The Second's betrayal and the Resurgence's split has no doubt been in the works for a long time, and I refused to see it, even when she disobeyed my direct orders." Her hands clench over her thighs. "She has twisted my vision for this country into something dark, all to chase some form of power, and taken her likeminded people with her. She must be stopped."

So here we are, at the crux of the matter. Just two women, both naïvely blundering our way to salvation.

"So what now?" Max cuts across cleanly. "We have to move Gail if the Second and her people will find us here."

"It will take them a few days to crack through my files. That gives us time to consider options for our next steps." Her shoulders rise. "The Washingtons present another problem. They'll have fed weaponry and firepower to every member of the Second's Resurgence, making them even more dangerous than before. They are incited right now, angry, and if we have any hope of stopping a potential bloodbath and ensuing unrest, we have to strike smart and with precision. The Second, Alaric Washington and Caspian Washington must die."

I take a breath and look at Max. He stares at the table, his expression unravelled.

"Alaric, okay," he agrees shakily, "but Caspian—"

"Is next in line to take over the Washington underworld," Mariam says.

"He's seventeen," Max blurts. "He's been brainwashed but he's young. He can escape. I did."

"He's old enough to know what he's doing."

"He's also young enough to think what he's doing is right."

"I am not in the means of a rescue mission," Mariam says, with a touch of finality. "Our job is to get the princess to safety. If he interferes, he dies."

Max's hands clench beneath the table, and I slide my hand on top. He eases, just slightly.

"Fine," he grits out.

"What if we draw them out?" I suggest. "All three of them. If we do that, at least we can temper the civil unrest." I'm not stupid enough to believe it'll curb it immediately.

"How do you propose to do that?" Mariam asks. "I doubt they can be herded like cattle. I've never seen Alaric Washington in person; he probably gets others to do the dirty work."

"Use me as bait."

The words are out, yet somehow I immediately don't want to take them back. Everyone looks at me like I've grown a second head. I swallow the bile rising in my throat and look Mariam squarely in the eye.

"They'll come for me, won't they? They'll come for their ultimate target."

"No. The Second will. The other two won't," Max says. "But if I'm also there—"

I swivel to face him. "Hold on—"

"You'll never coax out Alaric and Caspian otherwise." Max takes a deep breath. "I'm the only person in the world that got away from them – from him. Alaric will want to finish things personally. We can bait them together."

"Absolutely not," Mariam vetoes at once, authority ringing in her tone. "You I don't care for," she directs at Max, "but you, Your Highness, are not as expendable."

"How do you plan to get them otherwise?" I counter.

"We'll figure out a way that does not put your life on the line. Your only role is to get to safety."

"What about Kenley Plantagenet?" I ask. "If you have ties to her, can't she call in reinforcements or something?"

But Mariam raises an eyebrow. "I wanted you to publically support her. That does not mean she was a rebel agent."

She— she's not? "I thought…" But I guess I have no evidence besides her yelling at her assistant.

"In hindsight, organising that was more a tactic the Second used to distract me," she confesses. "I never wanted to involve the politicians, especially not when they were also to blame for the mess this country is in."

"Erm," Zelda suddenly speaks. "Look, I know I'm not Rebel McLeader here, and I can't take out fifty dudes while hand-standing on a motorcycle, but there's only one place in the country that's safe for Gail right now."

"Which is?" Mariam asks.

"The palace," Zelda says. "Obviously."

Home. I wonder what's happening now. I wonder how much they're panicking.

Mariam shakes her head. "It's too risky. Now that Her Highness has been exposed, the palace is the first place the Second's Resurgence will be heading."

"You think they'll attack?" asks Naomi.

"No. They're not stupid. Angeles Palace is a fortress. That's why we've always resorted to quiet infiltration for data." She rises up. "But they will be crawling around the grounds, I have no doubt about it. They know Her Highness will try to return. They'll kill anyone they want."

"There's the route through my old room," Max says. "It's discreet."

Mariam's features tighten. "Does anyone else know about it?"

"My friend Victor, but—"

"He's in bed with the Washingtons now," Naomi reminds.

Max flushes. "He wouldn't double-cross me."

"I'm not in the mood to test that theory," Mariam says. "We're ruling it out if it's no longer safe."

Zelda retorts, "Nowhere is safe."

"The route is compromised. We are not using it."

"Then let's tell the palace that! They can sweep it for bad guys—"

"The Second is watching our communication channels," says Mariam, but her eyes have turned cold.

"Fine, then let me go in person. I'm expendable, aren't I?" Zelda challenges, and she regards Mariam fiercely. "My dad's head of security at the palace. I can get him to—"

"I will not be contacting the palace. They've proven time and time again that security is not their strong suit." She raises her head, absorbing the gazes from every other set of eyes, staring at her with a mixture of apprehension and worry. Strange how she can pull us all in. I see why she ascended to the ranks of leadership. "After a short rest to recover, you, Rose and Aderyn will be escorted away until the dust has settled. You'll only be a liability otherwise."

"A lia—" Zelda's nostrils flare. "So our plan is to do exactly nothing then?"

"Like you said, you're not the leader here." Her voice stabs with dismissal, and her stoic countenance passes over Zelda in what feels like a slight. "If there are no viable courses of action to take, then we must wait, and re-evaluate our stance in the morning."

"I gave you a viable course of action," I insist, but Mariam shakes her head.

"We are not using you as bait. We are not contacting the palace and we are not using a route that is compromised. That is final."

She heads out, effectively ending the conversation. So that's it, then. We wait.

Zelda is up on her feet in seconds. She says nothing and stomps out of the kitchen. The backdoor slams.

No one says anything at first.

Naomi takes a deep breath. "I don't like it. Truth is, we're sitting ducks out here, and hell only knows how long it will take the Second's lot to figure out where we are. But… I want to make sure you're safe, Your Highness. I've got your back, no matter the plan."

"You're… not mad?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer. "I got you fired." I glance at Aderyn. "Both of you."

"I came to this country to find purpose. I found it." A smirk creeps up on Naomi's face. "And it doesn't include getting this far to get your sorry ass killed."

Aderyn comes around, uses Mariam's unused chair to sit next to me. "Yes. I'd never hold that against you, Gail. I think your brother was just… doing what he thought was best. That's not on you." She smiles gently. "You should go talk to Zelda. You're good at calming her down."

"I don't blame her," says Rose quietly. "For being angry."

I don't either.

I limp passed the rebel guarding the back door. Outside, in frigid air, the patch of browning grass called a garden is spacious and uneven, about the size of a swimming pool and fenced off by a low brick wall. Zelda paces back and forth, hands clenched as they swing in time with her strides.

"I hate this," Zelda snaps as I approach. "I can't— I won't—" Only up close can I see how her eyes glisten. "This is way too dangerous."

"I don't like it either."

"I'm not a liability." She runs a hand through her hair. "I'm not a liability, am I?"

"Of course not—"

"Then why didn't you stick up for me in there?"

I don't rise to her tone. It's not really me she's angry at. It's not even Mariam.

"What if you die, Gail?" comes her desperate rush of breath. "What if you die, and I'm wasn't allowed by some stupid set of rules do something that could've prevented it, and… and…" She huffs angrily suddenly. "How can you be so calm?"

I shrug. "I don't know about you, but I've already nearly died at least four times today alone, so…" The humour falls flat. I wrap my arms around my waist. "I don't know. I guess… I'm trying not to think about it, because I know everyone's working really hard to keep us safe." I sit on the grass, and Zelda reluctantly drops down next to me. "I'm glad you and Aderyn and Rose will be going soon. I don't want you to have to risk your life too."

"But you'll risk yourself just fine?"

"Without hesitation."

She grumbles out a "Stupid honour," so quiet and annoyed it's almost eaten by the light wind. Night shivers around us, but she doesn't seem cold. "You don't even care about saving your own skin."

"I mean, I would like to live too, so saving my own skin is a definite bonus," I say wryly, and a smile peers from the corner of her lips. "You're going to be safe away from here."

"I should be with you wherever you go. I can't shoot a gun or martial arts kick ass or whatever, but… I would watch out for you. Because that's what best friends do. We watch out for each other."

"We keep each other safe, too."

"Is it safe here, though, Gail? Is it really?"

I won't agree or disagree, and she knows I won't. She sinks her head onto her knees.

"This sucks."

"Yeah." I brace my hands behind me, digging my nails into the dirt, and watch the sky above. The clouds are a thick weight above me, blended into the darkness. The moon and stars aren't visible at all. "No matter what happens though, I'll always love you, Zel."

"Yeah." She hesitates, then punches my arm, side-smiling. "I love you too."

Satisfied I've at least assuaged her temper, we pad back to the house. Inside, Aderyn and Naomi and a handful of rebels have cleared the kitchen so efficiently it's like we weren't even there, not five minutes ago.

Mariam stands in the doorway. At me, she raises an eyebrow. "A word, Your Highness?"

Zelda glares barely-muted daggers at her before trawling upstairs to the bedroom we're sharing. Mariam heads into the empty living room again, and I, tucking my best friend's anger away, follow her inside. In the low lamplight, Mariam's skin droops with fatigue, anxiety, and that same bone-deep exhaustion that I saw on her after the Hesparian Hares game.

"I never got to tell you my surprise," she says, "that you were on a hockey team."

I note the use of were. "Yes," I say, uncomfortable.

"If I'd known my little sister was hanging out with the princess for so many months, I suppose I would've come to watch her games earlier."

"What's your point?"

"Very little surprises me nowadays." She regards me down the bridge of her nose. "But your double life caught me off-guard. I… didn't think you'd do anything else with your life, other than act your role of princess in your palace of riches."

I think of Roy, barricading me to my room. "I used to be like that," I confess. "Then I joined the hockey team, totally on a whim, and… it's pretty world-changing to realise what you've been missing, when all your life you've been confined to the palace. The bars may be pretty and gilded, but it still makes a cage." I look away. "Not that it matters. After all this I don't think my brother will ever let me leave ever again."

If there is an afterwards, that is. It's impossible to think of what will be happening a few hours from now, let alone days or weeks. Mariam's so silent that I look back at her, wondering if she heard, but actually she regards me thoughtfully.

"Your brother, the king," she muses.

I nod. "You probably hate him."

"No," she says at once. "No, I empathise with him."

"But you're fighting everything we stand for?"

"I fight the system. I don't fight you." She tilts her head, and a glint of smugness quirks. "You're not such a bad person, Gail Schreave. Forgetting my ideal visions of the future, you are in a unique position now that most people will never be in during their entire lives. You can chase what you want."

"What I want is hockey," I say. "Which is exactly what Roy doesn't want."

"Sometimes," says Mariam, "we do things that we think will keep our younger siblings safe, without realising how much we hurt them. I've never met your brother, but I imagine a man in his position has to juggle the needs of the many beyond the needs of his own, and deep down, as all good older siblings do, we fear for our youngers and hope we can protect them forever." She turns, heading to the threshold of the room. "He just needs to learn that forever is a myth."

She nods at me once in goodnight. Words bubbling in my head, I wait a moment before I head upstairs into the master bedroom. Zelda and Max have already changed into some lose clothes. Zelda doesn't look me in the eye as she tucks herself into the bed.

"Max is taking the floor," Zelda says. Her tone is smug, light. "So put away those sex ideas."

"Z-Zelda!" I blush all the way from my toes to my scalp. "F-For goodness sake, we're at war!"

"An even better excuse for you to get frisky." She glares at Max with a I'm watching you expression. "If I hear anything…"

"I-I'm just going to stay on the floor," Max mumbles, already sliding himself into a sleeping bag. The cosy tint of the lamp almost obscures how much his cheeks have bloomed. "Goodnight, Zelda, Gail."

I quickly wash and change in the en suite and tuck myself into bed, next to Zelda in the darkness. We've shared a bed plenty of times, when we used to have slumber parties in my room. In reality she could've asked for a whole other mattress put next to mine, but at the time, when we were twelve, thirteen, it was what she was used to from before she was adopted. It was… normal.

A wave of nostalgia hits me. I wish I could return to that time, when we were so innocent.

Zelda has her back turned to me when I pull the comforter over me.

"Zelda?" I mumble. "Are… are you going to be okay?"

She turns around. In the darkness, all I see are the whites of her eyes, glinting not with sleep, but calculation. "Swear to me that whatever happens, you won't die? Please?"

I clasp the comforter to my body. This sounds familiar. Another promise I cannot keep.

But I say, "I swear," anyway. Because I'm going to darn well try.

Sleep comes in restless waves. I'm tossed in and out of nightmares like a bungie jumper off a cliff edge. Having the unknown of tomorrow sitting on your shoulder makes it kind of difficult to put your mind at ease and go to sleep, but when I'm conscious, darkness swarming the air, I note Zelda's stillness and Max's even breathing, and I note that nothingness of sound around me. Pipes groan, and patrol footsteps lace the fringes of my hearing, but it's so quiet.

It's… nice.

I dip in and out of sleep again before I hear a tremble through the house. Groggy, I sit up. It's only been a few hours since I went to sleep, according to the clock, but the thumps and bumps outside the door are more frequent.

Suddenly the door opens. My eyes hurt at the shaft of light that follows, but I make out Mariam's silhouette as she reaches for me.

"Get up and change. Quickly!"

She flicks the light on, and I register the urgency in her voice. I fling the covers off as Mariam rouses Zelda and Max. Zelda is slow and swaying as she sits up, but Max is like a jolt of electricity, on his feet and changing in seconds.

"What's going on?" Zelda mumbles. "I thought— I thought we had time before they found us!"

"I underestimated them." Mariam's voice betrays a hint of pain. "Scouts have intercepted their communications. There's a whole convoy of them on the freeway. They're coming." Her eyes meet mine. "They're coming for you."

NTT: "Give me a gun!"