The meeting regarding the new trade conditions in the country was a meeting I was in charge of, a meeting I was looking forward to host, but it all went to nothing when I woke up and couldn't move my back.

It was too stuff. Hurting too much.

"You don't want to get up, hermit?"

"Let me be" I groaned.

Justin laughed and stood by my side. "Get up. The meeting will start in an hour. You need to revise everything."

No one, except for my favourite nurse Katherine who'd kept the secret of my scars to herself, knew about my private lessons with my father. Nor even Justin. He was my best friend and my big brother in every sense, which meant he'd fight to death to take vengeance on my behalf. The secret of my scars were one thing that I'd take with me to the grave.

But the meeting was equally important. There were things that needed to be thought upon; understanding that needed to be pursued; many people to get to an understanding.

"I know. But yesterday I slept late. And I want to sleep now." After treating my wounds to give them time to heal.

Yesterday wasn't the worst, but still it hurt. I'd taken care of them as much as I could, but they needed to be healed. I knew this beforehand what happened if the wounds didn't get time to patch themselves up. I'd come so close to Mom finding it out. So close to Justin suspecting something foul.

There were many things going through my mind, but not regret. I'd visited America in exchange of a few more scars, and I would do it again, no matter what.

"You can sleep afterwards, my prince," Justin said, placing a mug of brewing coffee on the side table. "but for now get up or a cold bath will walk to you."

His words were not merely a verbal threat. He'd done that before and could do it again. Pranks were a think he had mastery in.

"Sometimes I really don't know why did I assign you!" I muttered, standing up and flexing my back. A curse rose to my lips but I quickly swallowed it down. Gods, it hurt. So much.

After a quick bath and a stomach full of knots even after I'd eaten, I revised everything that I needed to say in the meeting.

Today we'll be discussing not only the trades and budget, but also how my project of providing food to the lower castes was going. Depending on how it is working, the future of this project will be determined. And my worthiness as a prince. It all depended on it now.

Just when I was knotting my tie, a knock on my door announced the arrival of Mom. She knew what day it was and how much I wanted it to happen. It wasn't a surprise that she came today to wish me luck.

Wearing a gown that looked like a luminous sunset, she walked in, carrying what looked like a small box. She stopped in front of me and patted my hands away, working on my tie. "You always wrinkle your tie when you're nervous."

"Everybody is on an edge now." She shook her head in resignation, already knowing what happened last night. The part Justin might've told her, not the whole thing that actually happened. And I knew she had her spies worked on me.

"The arrival of our visitors has like pulled everybody's strings."

"Everybody is vary of Italians and their ways. They've always ignored our advanced of forging an alliance. The Germans are our allies—"

"And a close friend of Italians." She completed for me. "If they suspect anything foul or say anything against us to their long time friends, there's a chance we'll never be able to redeem our status in front of the Italians."

"Why didn't you ever work to forge an alliance? You could have worked wonders."

"I know, but you know as well what does Illéa thinks of its women working, even a queen."

"I will change that particular law, opening the gates of the world for women as well. Once I become the king that is."

"My son is a charmer."

A snort released me. "Only for you."

"You'll gain their alliance, dumpling. I know that. And you'll be a successful and a very good king. I know that, too."

"I hope what you speak becomes the truth." Her support for me meant everything. "I don't know if you know, but Dad has assigned me as their host for their time here."

"Because he knows as well that you are good at this."

I scoffed.

"Clarkson is not known for words, Maxon. You must remember his childhood was hundred times rough than yours. Your grandfather was known to be the most cruel king Illéa ever had, your grandmother the only one with whom he lose in that. He doesn't know how to express love, but he loves you. More than anyone else, even me, which gives me a reason to be jealous as well as proud of you."

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like that." I muttered, thinking about last night.

She must've seen something in me as she patted my shoulder. Again a curse rose to my lips but I quickly swallowed it down. "The events of yesterday shouldn't have happened. None of them. I know Clarkson's dislike to her, but I know what she means to you."

"I wish he did as well." More like I wished he respected that and gave me his acceptance.

She nodded and put her hands on my chest. "Clarkson was once given the same task you've been given. To woo another nation. Germany. And you know what he did? Everything he could. He went as far as making Eulond Wolfé your Godfather, that was how deep he created a friendship. And here we are today."

"It is difficult to imagine him like that." I admitted.

"You're right. He wants you to be a prince, even when in private. But sometimes, you have to make him remember that he needs to be a father as well." She murmured, finishing with the knot of my tie and straightening it. She looked up then, the reflection of my eyes looking back at me. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, after last day, but I can't live without any of you." Tears sparkled in her dark eyes. "I love you both so much, and I know the recent attacks have put everyone on an edge. It's not an excuse either, but you both mean the world to me, sweetheart. I could never choose any one of you."

"Mom?" I took her in my embrace, holding her tight against me. "Are you doubting me?"

She chuckled. "A lady has her reasons."

Kissing the top of her head, I placed my chin on her. "I love you, Mom. And even if I hate Dad, I love him more. It's just that sometimes I don't like him." Which was the truth most of the time, but I loved him still nonetheless. It was that sometimes I wished I could like him as well.

She sniffed. "I'm going to make you late."

"You can. Anytime you want." I promised, kissing her hair once again. Justin came in at that moment, his sight giving me the knowledge who my mother's spy was. Not taking my eyes from him, I told Mom, "FYI, I'm going to kill Justin."

Her chuckle followed us out, even when I reached the conference room.

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I was a few minutes early, to disintegrate the situation before it worsen.

Last night was rough for me in many ways, but the wounds Dad had given me were too deep to patch themselves. He knew about that, too, as he called me in the room and asked Stavros and Justin, the only other occupants beside us, to give us a moment of privacy.

"Last night shouldn't had happened." He murmured as a greeting, while I sat opposite him. "I am not going to apologize to you for anything, nor I'm saying you were right."

He never did anything, but the fact that he did was a miracle in itself. It seemed like a wound lingered on him as well, not as deep as on me, but a sour thing nonetheless.

"Neither will I."

"I know." His voice wasn't lethal, full of acknowledgment instead.

He sighed, putting his mug of coffee on the table. "There are a few things you need to understand, Maxon." There were many things he needed to understand as well, as well as listen me out. "The moment you select one, you'll be making a promise of coronation as soon as possible."

"I know. I understand."

"Do you?" He leaned forward, grabbing his cup and taking a sip. "I know you're thinking I'm being cruel, but you have to understand the predicament of the whole thing." At my silence, he continued, taking another sip. "As you've seen for yourself, the attacks of the rebels have increased. I got another letter yesterday, at my office, after the attack the night before yesterday."

Letter? After the Southern rebels' attack? "You didn't tell me anything!"

"Things were already on an edge for you." I tried to school my features but he saw me clearly. "You thought I wouldn't notice? I am not the king for naught. I have my eyes on everyone."

Leaning back, I put my ankle on the other knee. "You were saying?"

"The rebels are getting impatient." He said, telling me the same thing what the letter from previous time had stated. "They want the end of our line, so they're trying their best to not let the Selection finish. Which demands of us to finish it as soon as possible. We can't give them any reason to attack us again."

That I already knew. But it didn't make anything clear: Why?

" What and why is it related to America?"

"Now, here comes the major twist." Another sip. "Jenny Shales, the FBI agent from Britain, gave me entails about the Singers being related to some cult. She suspects it is a rebel group and Shalom Singer is a sort of leader or holds a major position." I straightened. Before I could interrupt, be held up a hand. "Of course it is merely a suggestion. But she had solid information on a few of the rebels members being a part of the palace guards and essential personnel, and she suspects that one of the Selected is also involve. Connecting the dots, I believe the general direction of suspicion leads to America."

"She isn't!" I knew in my heart she wasn't.

"I could believe it, but I wouldn't. She's a Five. She may have some motivations to be here. She don't want to be with you on longer terms. When the rebels attacked, she ran away to them when she had the choice of running away from them. And I've never heard of anyone out-chasing the rebels and coming unharmed. All of these point in one direction. I wouldn't risk anything until I'm not sure." He took another sip, and if his lingering scowl of indifference was any indication, he was enjoying pinpointing everything to one person which means more to me. "And to be frank with you, our country wouldn't gain anything with a Five as a queen. If anything, it'll enrage the upper castes which will result in more chaos and riots."

"To be clear," I interrupted this time, leaning forward and flexing my back. All his accusations towards America made the scars he'd given me again and again more painful and obvious. He never liked her, and now he had a reason based on foul suspicion to hold it against her. "She have no motivation here other than to enjoy the luxury of food and shelter. Either she wants to be with me or not is based on what happened to Marlee and the position and power the crown holds. As of her running away, she ran away from the rebels, not towards them. She out-chased then, yes, but that was because she used her wits, not because she's involved with them."

"And about what you believe, Illéa had never such a beautiful and smart queen as she did when she gained a Four—Mom—and I'm cent percent sure she'll be another one Illéa will look forward to."

The look he have me promised rage—and hatred.

"And as of the suspicion of rebel members as guards, that shouldn't have surprised you, yet you are. None of my Elites are a member of any cult or rebels. You made sure of that when you chose them."

He put his cup down, his scowl vicious. "Sure, I chose them, but when they were all here. Now, not so anymore. We don't have any family background information on Natalie or America or Kriss. They all are a surprise package."

I knew that already. At the starting of my Selection, he had the upper hand as he was controlling my every aspect, but now, not so anymore. Now I was the master of my own fate, writing the chapters of my life as per my choice and will. Not everything was going on as I wanted to, but I was happy still because everything was happening on my terms, not on my father's.

"Still you doubt only America? Why am I not shocked?"

"I'm trying to be open about everything. Seriously speaking, I don't like the idea of her being the queen, but she can stay here as much as she wants; but only till she doesn't create any disturbances."

"She hasn't. Not till now."

"Do you mean you are taking responsibility of her?"

"She is my Elite."

"Fine!" He spat the word. "Do whatever you want! But I'm warning you: the moment she makes any fault, she goes. No questions asked."

"Does this rule apply to others as well?"

"Be as it may, but I am being clear."

"Which means you are still trying to control my Selection?"

"I just want the best for the kingdom?"

"And what about me? Don't you care for me?" It was a magic my voice was still levelled and not penetrating through the walls.

"What ridiculous question is this?"

"You know what, never mind. I already know the answer to that, no matter how complicated it is."

And it was complicated.

He searched my eyes, and his eyes softened. A little, but it did.

That was why it was all complicated. I want to hate him, but I can't. I want to love him, but I can't. There were times when I wanted him to just be with me, but whenever that was about to happen, it always messed up. Our relationship was complicated as best, has always been, but nowadays, since my Selection, it seemed we're different at best, estranged as worst.

"Whatever. Are we clear?"

I knew this was an impasse. An ugly one. Both our ego and self-respect were too great to bow to the other. I haven't bowed to his will, and neither did he. Glaring at each other, we both understood this: no one will give up this time as well.

Exhaling loudly, I shook my head slightly. "Never mind. Now, I have something to tell you, and I want your assistance in this." At his nod, I called Justin in.

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The meeting went more gracefully than I'd expect. The vision I'd seen when announcing my project was the one we achieved. At the start of this project only a few advisors' were a willing part, but now there were more. Twos, Threes, Fours and every other person who could spare much gave us a little contribution. Farmers cut their little export to give as supply, some Fours gave their clothes which they didn't wear to the ones who can't afford it. There were many Threes who were willing to teach the children of each caste who wanted to. No such development was seen in many Twos, but there were some that felt promising. Especially the guards who once belonged to a lower Caste. Charities were held in the name of mine, auctions were held to raise fund. At some places sources were overflowing.

Still there was some resentment.

"The lower castes have learned to live this way." I repeated the words I'd once spoken, looking at Gavril. We were shooting a small segment announcing how the projects were faring, an idea upon which Gavril and I worked upon in a short time. "Until they see themselves as someone who can have these necessities now, no one can help them. They have to come forward and accept it."

"What more are you planning now that your first project has been a success?"

"Nothing for now. I don't want to start something else until I'm satisfied with the results." I answered, speaking the points I'd laid down in the meeting. "Sure we are having sources and funds to fulfil the basic needs, but is that enough? We aren't just working to provide them food; we're working to provide them security. And until and unless they start seeking it out, no matter what the statistics say, the project will be a failure. They have to stop seeing themselves as low but someone as worthy of these necessary things. The upper castes have to stop seeing them as workers and start seeing them as people. Then, and only then, we can think about another step."

"What gives you the opinion that this is the scenario hidden from us?" Gavril asked, the question I'd told him to ask. The interview today wasn't am impromptu one. It was being held for a reason. Marlee's caning had created a riot, one which I needed to solve as soon as possible. That was the reason Gavril and I had worked on today's questions and how to portray the answers. The project I was working on when father thought I was working on how to greet our visitors.

"My previous Elite was held guilty—for something that is a common thing in other nations but a privilege in here. Falling in love with a member who was of a lower caste than hers. She was canned, announced as an Eight. How can I think my project is working when how easy it was for the king to announce her as something that is considered as nothing but dust? The thinking has to change. The common phrase of Illéans, ' You belong to a lower caste', has to change."

"It isn't an easy route, Your Highness."

"And that is why it is the right route."

"What are the reviews of our king on this?" Gavril asked, turning to where father sat.

Heeding Mom's advice, I'd approached him and displayed my ideas and views on the whole thing. He was reluctant, but Gavril had been with me and he'd smoothed things out, giving him enough reasoning to accept about the whole interview and be a part of it. Justin had played his part as well, telling him all the new gossips in the palace. With two attacks already seen in two days; our guests arriving here soon; the riots increasing rapidly—those things became the catalyst I was hoping for and father agreed.

"Things have long been going in a particular way, but that doesn't mean we can't chance the directions." he said, a smile of determination on his face. He was reluctant when he'd announced his aid to us in the project, but none of it was visible on the show. "This whole project is for the betterment of our country and its people. I can only hope everyone sees is as clearly as Maxon is, and helps us achieving the goal we have in our mind."

"Can we say that means the castes will we removed?"

A question I'd asked Gavril to ask. We wanted the public's answer on this. Gavril had already worked along with Mr. Needle to have a public vote on the following choice. Of course father was reluctant of this whole idea, but it was time the baggage be led by the vision and dreams of the youth and not the ideology of an elder.

"There's always a possibility, Gavril." I answered, feigning a thinking look. "You taught me this: Not now, but that doesn't mean never; one step at a time, and we'll see where we are a few years later."

He rolled his eyes, but a small grin lifted his lips in a curve.

Gavril rolled the camera and gave a good conclusion to the whole meeting, bringing it to an end. "It went good."

"Why did you ask about the castes coming to an end?" Dad sneered.

Gavril, always jubilant, smiled. "Motivation as well as a threat, Your Majesty." We'd worked on this answer as well. Just because Gavril was open with changes, he knew everyone wasn't. And he knew how much father despised the idea of changes. "The lower caste will see it as hope, while the upper ones will know that they won't be able to hold their status much longer if they don't help us."

"You're diabolical!" I chuckled.

"And I'm not ashamed of it."

Neither was I.