First review shout outs to Cbear88, Miss Kaydence, Mystoggan, XOStarbrightXO, delovlies, suicideblonde99, fivesauce'n'YAbooks, Nameless, LadyAnj, and canifindtheone!

I meant to post this a lot earlier, but I had finals last week which took forever, but now I'm free for the remainder of the summer! For this reason, I extended (and am re-extending) the deadline after I planned out the next couple of chapters. I won't be needing the characters until chapter four, so the absolute deadline is this Wednesday, July 26th. I have lots of great characters, but if you haven't submitted, please please please check my profile for any updates, and a list of the characters I have, and try to be different from them. I am no longer accepting Twos or Threes (as that is mostly what I have).

Pinterest board is up and rolling!

-Shades

…

The night sky was empty, except for the thousands of stars that were always just out of reach.

It was quiet and kinda peaceful here, now that he thought about it. If he just focused on the light shining from those stars, maybe he could pretend nothing had happened.

Down below, everything was dark, only little pinpricks of light from houses. If he thought hard enough, it was almost like everything was going to be okay, and that there was nothing going on.

He exhaled slowly, and leaned against the seat, feeling his body uncoil just the slightest.

It was a mistake, of course. That could have lost him his life.

It took him a second to recognize the beeping to his left, combined with the blinking yellow light.

He swore, letting the expletive continue into a long string, each word becoming more and more ridiculous. There was someone on his tail.

For once, he wished Captain Entrinken hadn't sent him out alone, even though it would have been stealthier, he suddenly wished he could at least see the landing lights of a plane in front of him. Maybe then the sickening taste of impending death and pain and everything else wouldn't be in his mouth.

"Ferguson!" he barked, alerting his copilot, asleep and blissfully unaware of the impending danger. Drake Ferguson jerked up, mumbling. He didn't say anything, as he usually didn't, only addressed the situation.

He wasn't aware of what the copilot was doing, only struggled to maintain his composure and fly the damn plane.

"What is it?"

"There's one of them behind us, they're just flying-"

Drake was cut off by another light and siren, this one practically screaming and bathing them in red light as it flashed.

"Never mind, they just launched a rocket at us!"

Instinct and his flight training took over and he barely even registered the evasive maneuvers he performed.

It wasn't enough, he realized, when the plane jerked, and he lost his grip on the steering and the side of his head slammed into the window. They'd been hit, not directly, but hit all the same.

"We have to jump!" Drake was yelling.

"What about the cargo? We have to deliver it!"

The plane bucked wildly again, and more sirens were off inside the cockpit.

"We can't even fly it now!" Drake cried, hauling him out of his seat.

"Are we going to die?" he asked, his voice small, barely audible above all the noise. Drake didn't answer, only stuffed him into a parachute, and yanked open the hatch.

The wind was freezing cold—it was always cold up north—and he wondered why he had decided to come back. It nearly blew him off his feet, but now the view of the serenity below was clear.

And then Drake shoved him out, and it was all rising to meet him. He heard a loud blast, and the scream of metal, and felt the heat, but he couldn't twist around to see, only scream for Drake, to see if one of his few friends had had time to jump.

The ground was coming up so fast, it was so cold and heard to breathe—he felt his body jolt up several feet as the parachute deployed, and then things kind of got hazy.

"You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines.

"Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty.

"Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs.

"It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him.

He opened eyes, but it wasn't Trentworth in the summer.

It was somewhere in Bankston or Hudson, maybe even Yukon, he didn't know. It was cold and snowing, dark still. There was the smell of burning, and above him the stars were winking out without any fuss as the clouds advanced.

The world around him exploded, and everything was on fire in an instant. Tangled in his parachute strings—now burning, he panicked again, swearing another string of colorful language.

It was his plane, at least whatever remained of it. He wriggled out of the parachute, and ran in the other direction—but he tripped over something.

Face down in the snow, he didn't move. He could hear the forest around him burning, smell the smoke and feel it burning down his throat. There was a new sound—another aircraft, yelling from closer, gunshots.

"I love you too. Now go."

He twisted over, looking behind him but he wished he hadn't.

He had tripped over Drake. His friend lay still on the snow, blood soaking into the snow and onto the stupid flop of chestnut hair that he had teased him about just before they had gotten on the plane. His clothes were singed and burned, along with the parachute bag laying neatly packed next to him, undeployed. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the stars, half his left leg gone, blood everywhere, on his face, on his clothes, OhGodhewasmissingaquarterofhisface-

"Wesley! Hey, are you okay?"

Startled, Wesley yelped, unable to fill his lungs with air because he couldn't get any out. Sweat made his button-down and jacket stick to his skin, replacing the flight gear that had felt so, so real. The frosty air conditioning was the only cold he could feel.

He took a shuddering breath, gripping the stair railing.

It was okay, it was okay, he was home, back at the palace, everything was fine, it was okay.

Nicole was standing in front of him, headed down, Jamie as his usual fixture on her hip.

"You were just standing there, looking like you were about to pass out."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," he breathed, cringing at the higher pitch his voice had taken on. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I'm in the way."

Nicole eyed him, frowning. "Are you sure? You're all sweaty and shivering and you sound like you ran a marathon."

Wesley nodded, trying to breathe deeply and get the air back.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ride back in a plane."

The words left him before he could think to not say them. He looked at Nicole to see if she had noticed his slip up.

Of course, she had. Her brow crinkled in sympathy and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, Wes."

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then continued her way down.

Wesley took a deep breath, and started back up the stairs.

He didn't know how to be okay anymore.

The plane had left Trentworth this morning, and it hadn't been until late afternoon when they had touched down outside the palace after a week of vacation. Michelle and David had taken another plane back to their home in Clermont, so things would be quieter without Danny and Charlotte, though he would miss them.

It was odd to be home, everything was slightly different yet strangely the same. His mother had told him his rooms had been remodeled, but since he had arrived, he had only loafed around the first floor, taking in all the newness.

When his father was king, the West Wing of the palace had been home to offices for the advisors and legislatures, but had since been devoted to Prime Minister Colin Evans and his staff. Colin and Adele usually lived outside of Angeles, not far away from the palace, but they had rooms here, of course, up on the third floor.

The Great Room was a lot fancier than it had been before, and the Main Hall had been completely redecorated. Many of the rooms off the Main Hall had been changed, even though no one really used them.

Wesley stopped outside the second floor, dominated by the guest rooms. Soon, he mused, thirty-five more of them would be filled with the Selected.

Of course, he had agreed, albeit reluctantly. He hadn't been able to turn his back on restoring the unity of the country they had fought so hard to fix-that still didn't mean that he was excited about it.

If he was totally honest, he was rather terrified of finding himself tied down in a serious relationship that would probably lead to marriage. He didn't want to open himself up like that, and falling in love sounded rather painful. It was easy to say nice things and be charming and he had lots of practice because he was, after all, a prince, but that didn't mean anything.

He had tried everything to get his brothers to change their mind—and had made a list of demands so impossibly irritating that no sane person would ever agree to it, but nothing had worked. Still, at least now all the Selected would have deep vetting and background checks, and they wouldn't have to stay in their rooms or the Woman's Room all day like they had in Andrew's and Ethan's Selections. He also had gotten things to be less formal clothing wise, as it already had been without King Jackson's presence. There was no timeline, and no one could force him to eliminate any of them. He would oversee all Report and Selection issues, and most importantly, the press would only be there if he allowed it, and would be kept to a minimum.

That had nearly been a deal-breaker, at least he had thought because the whole point was restore unity, but Andrew had agreed none the less.

He should have asked to get rid of the press entirely.

Wesley tore himself away, and continued up to the third floor, where the royal family lived. It was a lot less empty than it had been when his dad was king, when it had been inhabited by only his parents and siblings. Now, of course there were the kids, and lots of the less-than immediate family. Colin and Adele had their room up here for when they stayed over, plus Lady Gracie, Nicole's best friend and lady-in-waiting. She had almost been the winner of Ethan's Selection, until she rejected him, though there were no hard feelings. The cheerful blonde had a penthouse suite downtown in Angeles with her longtime boyfriend, Damian Chapman, the head of security for the Prime Minister, but she was over at the palace just as often.

Speaking of new additions to the third floor, as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a shout and then someone nearly picked him up off the floor.

"WESLEY, OH MY GOODNESS WHEN DID YOU GET SO OLD?" A female voice shrieked in his ear. It could only be Nat, who knew how to greet a body in good fashion. He hadn't seen Nicole's twin in a couple years, with him up north and her in Kent. She still wore her hair shorter than Nicole's, but she had the same high cheekbones and heart shaped face.

"Hey, Nat!" he said, muffled into her hair. She always smelled vaguely of horses, he decided.

Nat held him at arm's length, and ruffled up his hair as she always did because she knew it annoyed him. "Nicky tells me you're having a Selection, and I honestly can't believe it."

Wesley laughed, and brushed his hair back into place as best possible-Nat was one of his favorite people to be around, and since Nicole was his sister-in-law, he sort of considered Nat too.

"Yeah, me neither to be honest."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"I hope you're right."

Ben, Nat's husband, joined them on the foyer, and Wesley gave him their customary fist-bump-to-hug greeting. "Mate, you finally managed to shackle this one down,"

Ben jokingly rolled his eyes. "After only eight years of dating."

"Well, there was the matter of her being in Ethan's Selection and then some jerks decided to stage a revolution, but yeah, you should have done it way earlier. I can't believe you guys didn't invite me to your wedding,"

"You normally don't invite guests to an elopement, Wes," Nat teased him.

"Yeah, well you still should have invited me. I could have been your bridesmaid or something," Wesley said, this time ruffling Nat's hair. "Please tell me you're planning another one with guests and cake and me."

"Oh, believe me, there was definitely cake involved. We would have invited you, but we didn't want hordes of cameras descending on the event," Ben said.

"I feel you there, buddy. We were at Trentworth last week, and somehow, they still managed to find us and take pictures and criticize my choice of clothing. Also, apparently, I'm having an affair with like three various girls, oh, and I'm gay, according to one of my best friends who I've never even met. Didn't they accuse Nicole of cheating on Ethan with Ben a while ago, too?"

"Yeah, except all the pictures of her were me. I swear they somehow missed we're twins," Nat said.

"So, I take it you guys are here for a while? Did Ethan talk to you yet?"

"He said Andrew wanted me to serve on his Council, but we're going to discuss it more later tonight. Connelly, Elvira, Adele and Colin are here too."

"Shoot, speaking of which, I am on the Council, and the Council is having a pre-dinner meeting, so I have to run," Wesley said, remembering. Andrew was very fond of scheduling things right away, even though they had just gotten back this morning.

He said his goodbyes to Nat and Ben and headed to his rooms. The last time he had been here, it was Christmas, several months ago. The time before that had been the Christmas before, a year and several months ago. Perks of being a prince in the military, he supposed. Still, he had never liked coming home—there were always too many memories of how it had been before everything changed.

Now, he didn't have much of a choice.

Wesley took off his blazer and tossed it over the chair and kicked off his shoes haphazardly, before setting off to explore.

Aside from his newly redecorated office, he had his bedroom, bathroom and a sitting area he never used that served as his foyer. It looked like how it had always looked, though the walls were a now a deep blue-gray instead of the former plain gray. There was still the large bay window that was behind the couch immediately across from the door from the hall, the little table in the middle, and the two chairs opposite. It was a small room, only for some privacy, and there was another door leading off into the short hallway passing the office and bathroom and ending at the bedroom. The bedroom was similar too, just different. His office was much cleaner than he had ever seen it, completely bare of papers or anything. The bathroom had had all the tile redone, and looked pretty snazzy.

Supposing he should change for dinner, Wesley headed back to the sitting room to grab his discarded jacket, only to find it gone, along with his shoes.

Well this is odd…

He went back down the hall, only to spy a stack of papers sitting on his desk that definitely had not been there five minutes ago. Okay…

Rubbing his eyes, he went back into the bedroom to find something nicer to wear, only to find a three-piece suit laid out on the bed in what could only be described as…burgundy.

"Good evening, Your Highness. I trust you had a pleasant journey back," came a voice behind him.

"What-" Wesley turned, only to find a man standing in front of his closet, hanging up the discarded jacket. He was maybe a few years older than Wesley himself, dressed in the black and whites of the servants, with dark hair and a face that could only be described as irritating.

"Um…who are you?" Wesley tried to be polite but this was getting strange.

"Joseph Sheppard, sir. Your valet. I'm also the first valet."

"But…I don't have a valet. I've never had a valet. And what is a first valet?"

"Well you do now," Joseph said, hanging up the jacket and smiling rather smugly…and irritatingly. "A first valet just means that all the other valets report to me. I'm in charge of them."

Oh great, he was power hungry too. Wesley ran a hand through his hair, he needed to find his mother and find out why she had hired a valet for him. Wesley wondered how many other valets were haunting the palace that he didn't know about.

"Um okay, well I'm good right now, so I'll let you know if I need anything?"

"Are you sure, sir? My duties require to assist you in dressing-"

"Yeah that's going to big ol' nope, Joe. I can dress myself," Wesley snapped. "And I'm sorry, but I really don't need a valet. So, I'm going to try to say get out in the nicest way possible except I don't know how."

Joseph looked, well, irritated, but since Wesley was a prince, he didn't protest. "Yes, Sir. I'll just come back lat…whenever you summon me."

After the door closed behind Joseph, Wesley sat down on the bed, fiddling with his tie. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but the memories of the night up north when the plane had crashed, ending Drake's life came rushing back. He quickly opened his eyes, and headed for the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

Coming back into the bedroom, he eyed the suit with distaste, but there wasn't time to look for anything else, so he put it on anyway, as by this time he was already late to the Council meeting.

Halfway down the main hall of the third floor, Wesley was so busy trying to fix his hair that he was caught off guard when the door leading the Christine's rooms and the nurseries opened just as he was about to walk by.

Evidently, his presence had gone unnoticed by the door-opener, as they stepped out right in front of him, and of course, they collided.

"Oof!" the door opener nearly toppled off her tall heels and Wesley quickly grabbed her arm before she fell.

"Is running into someone the new way to introduce yourself?" He quipped, not recognizing the blondish brown shoulder-length bob that covered her face as she steadied herself. She wasn't wearing the black and whites of the maids, instead tall white pumps, a bright pink skirt, and a black and white polka-dot blouse.

"Are you o…" the words died on his lips as she brushed back the hair in her face and straightened so he could see her face.

The hair was dyed lighter than before, and she wore it much shorter than she used to, with a set of bangs that brushed the sides of her face. The same gray-green eyes were lined with a little more eyeliner, and seemed older, her face slightly slimmer. The same pale pink diamond hung on a simple chain nearly out of view under her blouse.

Her lips parted in surprise as her eyes met his, and she snatched the arm he was steadying her with away.

It all came flooding back—their shared birthday masquerade celebration that had turned into a rebel attempt to blow up the palace, running across the lawn with her and hiding in the woods, getting shot and her leaving their hiding place to go get help for him, their time together at Trentworth, pushing her into the fountain and kissing her, playing sardines so they would have an excuse to hide together, letting her go when Ethan sent her home…and seeing her again when he was stationed before he was evacuated when he served in Tammins.

The girl he hadn't heard from in years, despite their promises of love and devotion.

He stepped back, more from surprise than their close proximity, and breathed out her name.

"Lissa…"

…