Hello everyone! Here's the next installment of Heart! I'm another year older, a semester deeper into college, and I already have over 50 reviews! Thank you to these wonderful folks for reviewing-Nameless, fivesauce'n'YAbooks, Miss Kaydence, Sora Kalopsia, mnbvcxz-xx (x2, HI FROM ST!), canifindtheone, delovlies (x2, I forgot to include you last time hugs), Anastasia the Goddess of Drama, suicideblonde99, and my guest reviewers.

Side note to whoever hassled me for updates-that is NOT okay to do to anyone in the manner which you did. It was ambiguous I know, but I meant that it had only taken me a week from 4 to 5, and I never promised to have this one up in a week, I knew I would be busy, and this chapter would be difficult to introduce characters for the first time. Plus this is just a hobby. I'm flattered that you enjoyed the story so much to shout at me about it, and I'm sorry I can't PM you to tell you this, but it sucks to have people angrily demand an update when you're doing your best already)

It was supposed to be all the interviews in one chapter, but this is already really long, and it's been awhile since I've updated, so I'm posting it now. The "flashbacks" I've been including are a bit confusing, but that's on purpose, and they come from the event that took place in chapter 2.

-shades

…

"Wait, what do you mean, you're not going to be planning my Selection anymore?" Wesley's voice, admittedly cracked as he stared incredulously at his sister-in-law, Nicole's words only making him more nervous because in about five minutes he was supposed to meet his Selected, but he had been ambushed by nearly all of the resident women of the palace at the top of the stairs before going down.

"It's not that I won't be planning it anymore," Nicole reassured him, "I will still be doing that, it's just now they're helping."

All of the girls were beaming—including Christine, Nicole, Nat, Adele, Gracie, Elvira, and to make it worse, Lissa with Evie and Sophie. Gracie was even giggling—not that was new, though.

"I don't get it, I thought it was just you, Christine, and my mom," Wesley gulped. He liked all the older girls from Ethan's Selection, he really did, but there was a not so fine line between liking them and wanting them planning his Selection.

Nat stepped up to him and poked him in the ribs, "Well, who better to plan it than a bunch of us who have been through one? Besides…" she nudged her sister, grinning.

"Besides what?" Wesley demanded, breaking into a nervous sweat. This day kept getting worse and worse.

Nicole looked down, running her hands over the peach silk fabric of her evening gown. "Okay, fine. I wanted to wait to tell you, but I can see I have no choice. Ethan and I are going to have another baby in a few months, so that's why they're helping."

"Well you could have just told me you were pregnant!" Wesley burst out, throwing his arms around his sister-in-law, unable to stop grinning. Even though they were noisy and smelly and generally annoying, he couldn't be happier for Nicole and Ethan. "I thought you were punishing me or something!"

"What, by having us help out? Come on, Wes, it won't be that bad," Nat teased him, "Trust me, we know exactly what we're doing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Wesley poked her in the ribs as she slipped past him.

"Ready to meet the fiancées?" she said.

Wesley gulped again, "Um, no. But some of you guys better go, I'm sure my mom is terrifying them."

Nat and Adele left in search of their husbands, while Gracie and Elvira headed down the stairs to the dining room.

Ethan and Andrew arrived, dressed up for the occasion of the meet-all-the-girlfriends-dinner, each armed with another kid, Jamie and Aidan. Wesley congratulated Ethan as he watched Christine speak to Lissa and the little girls out of the corner of his eye. It appeared Lissa would be joining the party with her charges, dressed as she was in a simple lavender dress paired with a white blazer to set her apart as the staff.

Despite the fact that he was about to meet the Selected, he couldn't help but look at her while his brothers joked with him. As she followed Andrew and Christine down the stairs with the kids, she looked up, catching him watching her. Wesley quickly looked away, tugging on his tie.

He realized he was left up on the landing with Nicole, Ethan, and Jamie.

"Ready?" Ethan asked him.

"I think I might throw up, honestly," Wesley admitted.

"It's better to just get it over with, trust me," Ethan clapped him on the back as Nicole picked up Jamie and the four began their descent. "You know all their names?"

"I've been memorizing their forms like crazy. Gracie even quizzed me on them until I got them all right."

"That's all you need. You're a natural when it comes to flirting anyway," Ethan joked.

"Yeah, but not like this…" Wesley muttered under his breath. They stopped at the door of the parlor adjacent to the dining room, where the cocktail hour was supposed to take place before dinner, to allow Wesley to speak to all the girls. He yanked on the sleeves of his stupid jacket—another hideous pick by Joseph, no doubt, with navy that was a little too bright to be navy and too dark to be blue but was almost as awkward as he was feeling right now—before he realized Nicole and Ethan were both staring at him.

"Aren't you going to go in?"

"Aren't you guys going in first?"

"Because I think if we leave you out here you might never make it inside," Ethan said. He looked normal in his black suit. Why couldn't Wesley's suit be normal?

"Okay. Okay. I got this. I've been through worse. Okay," Wesley nodded firmly, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. "Okay," he cleared his throat, and mentally went through a list of names.

When he opened the doors, everyone looked up. There were faces he knew, of course, his mom, Andrew, Christine, the kids, Gracie, Elvira, Ben, Nat, Colin, and Adele. There were also thirty-five hot girls, and every single one of them were staring at him.

And then there was Lissa, and she was the only one who wasn't.

Wesley let out an awkward laugh, and then spun around and slammed the door behind him, nearly bowling over Ethan.

"I can't do this!" He shouted, before realizing that everyone probably heard him. This was too much, too hard, not what he wanted. He backed up until he hit the wall…

The smoke in the air was thick, stinging his eyes, burning his lungs, and making it impossible to see. The bones of the plane shrieked as the metal collapsed, destroying his only chance of survival. He stared at the corpse of his friend, and grabbed his forearm, slick with blood. He didn't know what came over him as he shook the body, the terror was so real.

"Drake, come on. Wake up, Drake. Wake up, you dumbass, wake up!" He cried, his voice cracking. He coughed, trying to breathe with all the smoke. The trees were on fire now, and there were other voices, and gunshots.

"You can't be dead. You can't be dead. YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!"

He shook the body of his friend as hard as he could, blood splattering on his face. Drake's forehead was a mangled mass of blood and bone, his leg was blown off, his brown eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.

He was hitting him, trying to get him to get up, punching him in the face.

"No, no, no, NO!"

The dirt four feet away from him exploded, and then again two feet away, followed by retorts from guns.

"Royalist plane down!" Someone shouted, hidden by the smoke.

There was important information in that plane. It was on fire, but it would burn slowly, with the gasoline spilled all over the trees, and it being made of metal. He saw the other gasoline tank, intact and not yet burning from the crash. He pulled out his sidearm, fumbling to load it his hands were shaking so bad. He fired three bullets into the tank, and it exploded. The heat washed over him, replacing the cold momentarily as he hid his face in the ground to protect his eyes from the blast.

He blindly fired the remaining bullets into the smoke, but there was only silence.

He reloaded, pulling Drake's ammo out of his pack too.

The forest went silent, expect for the flames.

Maybe they were gone.

Slowly, he released his grip on the gun, and grabbed Drake by the coat, shaking his friend in a desperate attempt to turn back time.

He didn't realize that he was screaming until the bullets were back, and he was only saved when they entered the body of his dead friend instead of him.

Drake was dead.

The terror burst through him, even in the cold he was sweating, his heart racing so fast, breathing coming in gasps between the smoke and the fear.

He didn't say goodbye, he ran.

He was going to die next.

He was going to die next.

He was going to die next.

"Wesley!"

Wesley blinked, realizing Ethan was shaking his shoulders. He sucked in a lungsful of air, everything coming back to normal as the smoke and terror and the rest of the memories faded.

"Are you okay?"

Wesley could only nod as he wheezed, trying to fill his lungs with air. He jerked at the knot on his tie, and then pulled it off, crumpling it into a ball. He didn't miss the way Nicole and Ethan looked at each other.

"You don't look okay. You look like you just had a heart attack or something," Ethan said, slowly releasing his grip on Wesley's shoulders.

"Gee thanks, on this day of meeting my Selected," the joke came naturally, and Wesley didn't even think of saying it.

"Your face just turned white, and you were barely breathing. I thought you were going to pass out, like the other day on the stairs," Nicole said, her face crinkled with worry.

"I just got a little lightheaded," Wesley told her, sagging against the wall. "All the stress…"

"You sure you okay?" Ethan asked. Wesley nodded, avoiding eye contact. He stuffed his tie into his pocket, now that it was hopelessly wrinkled.

"Yeah, I'm good," he lied.

"Do you want to go change your tie? We can tell them you'll be back in a few minutes," Nicole said. "I'm sure-"

"No. I'm fine, just leave me alone," he interrupted. Before he could think too much about it, he pushed past them, and for the second time that night, opened the doors.

Ignoring the stares, he avoided his mom, who was making a beeline towards him, and headed straight to the first footman, grabbing the closest champagne flute before joining Ben and Colin and downing the whole thing.

Both men were watching him when he lowered the glass.

"You good, dude?" Ben asked him, crinkling his eyebrows.

"Just count yourselves lucky you met your girls the normal way," he said, grateful that conversation was picking up around the room again. "I'm fine."

"Where'd your tie go?" Colin said as they exchanged their glasses for full ones.

Wesley shrugged. "It got wrinkled, so I took it off. Where's Damian?"

"He may be Gracie's boyfriend, but he's only my head of security, so he wasn't deemed good enough for the guest list," Colin explained. "But seriously dude, why are you talking to us?"

"There's thirty-five girls in here for you and you're talking the Prime Minister and the Homeland Advisor," Ben said. "I don't get it,"

"Because I'm internally screaming and too scared and sober to go talk to any of them, so please humor me for a few minutes," Wesley said, noticing as Ethan, Nicole, and Jamie entered the room.

Elvira approached, looking intimidating as always, in her high collared dark blue, mostly black dress, her hair swept up. "Can I borrow him for a second?"

"I'm pretty sure you outrank both of us, so yes," Colin said.

"Colin, you're the prime minister," Elvira raised an eyebrow. "You get to tell me what to do,"

"Oh, yeah."

Elvira sighed heavily and waited for Ben and Colin to leave before looking at Wesley.

"So, Nicole told me that you just freaked out out there, so as your former commanding officer, I need to know you're okay?"

"Love her as I do, Nicole takes the big sis thing a little too seriously. I just got nervous about this."

Elvira raised an eyebrow, out of captain mode now. "She also said it wasn't the first time, and that she saw the same thing happen the day you guys got back from Trentworth. And you said you shouldn't have been in that plane."

Wesley let out a bark of laughter, but no jokes came to mind. "I don't remember saying that, but I'm fine. I promise." For the first time, he noticed the sadness in Elvira's eyes, something he never remembered seeing up north.

"Okay, I get that this isn't the best place to talk about it, but if you need to talk, come find me. I'm here all the time now, anyway."

"Will do," Wesley said. He spotted his mother excusing herself from a conversation and head towards him in Elvira, looking definitely like a queen in her long sleeved, high necked purple gown. "But right now, I have to avoid my mother."

He made a quick detour around Andrew, ignoring his brother. If he was talking to him, his mother wouldn't care, and right now, he didn't want to talk about the stunt he had pulled earlier.

"Um, hi, I guess?"

Wesley turned around, finding one of the girls staring at him. She was tall and thin, with light brownish blonde hair, a delicate, heart-shaped face and he couldn't decide if her eyes were blue or green. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress that wasn't quite purple, and wasn't quite brown, but awkward like his suit. She wasn't holding a glass, but did have a contraband dinner roll in her hand.

He opened her mouth, trying to remember his name, but it seemed like the only thing he could remember was his time up north. At least his mother was only watching him from a distance now.

"Um, hi…" he stammered, feeling his face get hot.

The girl smiled, and held out her hand. "I know, there are a lot of us. I'm Alyex."

"Oh, right. Lady Alyexandria. I'm sorry, you look different that your application picture with your…um, mascara like that."

He shook her hand, and then mortification spread across the girl's face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. That's probably exactly how not to greet a prince," she said, quickly curtseying, looking rather ridiculous with the bread in one hand.

"It's fine. In fact, it was nice to feel like a normal human for once."

Alyex smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed, I completely broke the first rule of palace etiquette."

"Don't worry about it," Wesley assured her. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the Selected on them, and if looks could kill, Alyex would be dead by now. He raided his memory for any detail about her.

"You're from Hudson, right?"

Alyex nodded, and he noticed she was gripping the folds of her skirt very tightly.

"Were you close to any of the fighting?"

He immediately regretted the topic of conversation, but thankfully it looked like Alyex did too.

She gave her hair a little toss, and straightened her shoulders. "Yes, I lived close to the border, so I saw lots of it. I mostly worked in the field hospitals," Her smile had faded, and Wesley knew from experience that no one liked to talk about it.

"Is that what you want to do, be a doctor?"

"Yeah, but a fertility doctor. At least I've finally got some experience, my mom always wanted me to a ballerina, so that's kind of all I did until the war." Alyex seemed less tense now, so Wesley figured he was on the right path.

"You should talk to Nicole and Christine then, they're dancers too,"

"Goodness, I think I would die on the spot, they're royalty!"

Wesley shrugged. "You're talking to me, and so am I,"

Alyex smiled, and looked down at her shoes. "Yeah, you're right there, Prince Wesley."

They made small talk for a few more minutes before Wesley excused himself. One down, thirty-four more to go.

The closest girl to Alyex was ribbon thin, with rough olive skin and a mess of dark curls. She stood near two other girls who were giggling to each other, a sneer fixed on her face. He couldn't remember any of their names. She turned away from them, and locked eyes with Wesley, and frowned.

Wesley walked up to her, wondering if she recognized him, but she only fixed him a disapproving gaze. Like him, this girl had seen too much.

She offered a hesitant and forced bend of her knees that was probably supposed to be a curtsey.

"Hello," he said, "I hope you're enjoying your evening."

Her name, what was her name? He had them all down an hour ago, but now he could only remember the smoke, the fear, the body of his friend…

"It seems like a damn extravagance. Your Highness." She added with an afterthought. The way she said it almost seemed like a joke. Maybe it was.

"Oh…um, okay."

"Since you look like you have no idea which one I am, I'm Dresden Senna. Columbia. Six. Occupation: Barmaid. Anything else you need to know?"

"Uh…" At a loss for words, Wesley could only stare at Dresden. He remembered her now, something about her full lips. Only she looked entirely different than her form photograph, dressed in an off-the-shoulder dark purple gown with a black choker, showing off her pronounced collarbone. Her hair was down instead of up, and she was wearing dramatic…mascara or whatever all that stuff was called everywhere, along with deep red lipstick.

"Columbia, you said? Beautiful place," he stuttered.

Dresden made a sound that might have been a laugh. "It was. But you probably wouldn't know, being safe down here in the south."

Wesley bristled, "Actually I do know. I was there. I was fighting."

Dresden batted away an errant curl. "Oh please. They wouldn't let someone as important as you get anywhere close to the danger. You have no idea," she did her curtsey attempt again. "Excuse me. Your Highness."

Out of all the reactions he had pictured, he didn't think he would get into an argument with any of the ladies. Wesley stood rooted there for a moment, wondering what had just happened.

He caught sight of his mom heading his way, and broke out of his trance, moving towards the two girls Dresden had been…tolerating earlier.

He talked to who he found out to be Lady Jennie and Lady Gwendolyn as he avoided his mother, who still was on his tail. Luckily, Lissa remained busy with Evie and Sophie, so he didn't have to worry about her trying to talk to him or something either.

After Lady Nellie, he headed over to Lady Nikoli, who was sitting by herself, holding an untouched flute of champagne. He remembered her form, so he figured she would be a good bet. She was a pretty girl, with delicate features, an upturned nose, and green eyes. She wore her dark brown hair short now, and it framed her face. Nikoli looked uncomfortable in her black pleated gown, covered with cheerful pink roses, but then again, many of the girls did. All he could remember about her was that she was a toymaker, which would make her a Seven. She was looking around in apparent awe at the room, and didn't even notice when he approached, so he stopped awkwardly in front of her.

"Good evening, Lady Nikoli," he began.

The brunette looked up, and her mouth fell open with a tiny gasp before she jumped up, and gathered her skirts to curtsey. As she stood, it became clear that she was about Wesley's same height, but he could also see she wasn't wearing heels, but an old ragged pair of tan leather flats.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Nikoli said, her eyes wide as she looked at him. "I hope everything is okay, you seemed pretty distressed when you left,"

For what seemed the millionth time, Wesley said, "I'm fine," though his voice was a little sharper than he intended, and she flinched slightly. He forced a smile, "And you don't have to call me 'Your Majesty', I'm not a king. Wesley's fine."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. To be honest, I don't really even know who most of these other people are," Nikoli confessed, fiddling with the bracelet she was wearing.

Wesley tried to relax more, and slouched against the wall. "Really? It seems like we're all over the news and everything all the time."

Nikoli shrugged. "I don't watch the news much, I guess. Too busy with work."

"You make toys, right? That's pretty cool…"

"Just dolls. It's just something I've always loved, and I needed to support my grandmother and me."

Wesley grinned, "Well maybe we can go see Evie and Sophie sometime and see their doll collection. They're obsessed, and I'm sure Lissa wouldn't mind-" he stopped short, but Nikoli didn't seem to notice, only smiled. "Anyway, I guess you've already met some of the other girls, do you know who the rest of the royal family are?"

Nikoli shook her head, and Wesley pointed them out to her, along with the other guests. She didn't say much, but he could only imagine the culture shock she had from a Seven to a lady of the Selection.

After they said their goodbyes, Wesley went to go get another drink. He crossed the room, glancing at his watch. There was still plenty of time before dinner was served, and there were still so many girls to talk to. He smiled politely at the ladies, but didn't engage them. Most of them were standing in small groups with each other, or talking to one of his family members or the others, Colin, Adele, Gracie, Nat, Ben or Elvira.

He caught sight of Lissa, standing with some of the wait staff, handing Evie and Sophie glasses of water, and took a deep breath. She didn't belong here in this room with all the Selected. He knew it wasn't her choice to be here, but it was hard enough knowing she was still in the palace. But he didn't want her to go either. Wesley spun around, and looked around for something to pull his attention off her.

Lady Veyra was a distraction enough, and luckily, he remembered parts of her form. Unlike most of the others, she was standing alone, with one hand on her hip, surveying the room carefully. She looked every bit the secret agent in her strapless black dress and heeled leather ankle boots, her black hair in elegant waves. She watched him approach her, with her dark almond-shaped eyes framed in cat eyeliner. She gave him a coy smile, and curtsied, and he wondered if she'd every killed anyone during her stint with the Illean Special Reconnaissance Agency.

"Hello, Lady Veyra," he said, and admittedly, was nervous.

Veyra's smirk turned into a happy smile, and her eyes lit up. "Hello yourself, Prince Wesley. It's truly an honor to be here."

He already liked this girl, he decided. "It's an honor to have you. First of all, I think that being a secret agent is, like, really really cool, and second, we appreciate your service to our country."

"Says the one who was flying airplanes over the north. Now that, Your Highness, is really really cool," Veyra said. "I barely saw any action, just followed people around waiting for them to make a mistake. Now that everything's over, I'm worried I'll never get to do anything as cool as that."

She talked to him so easily, like they had known each other for ages, and Wesley found that he liked it. "It wasn't that cool. In fact it was more terrifying than anything. I'm glad it's over."

"Is having a Selection more or less terrifying?" Veyra asked, her head cocked. He had a feeling she wasn't just making small talk, but that her spy instincts had kicked in and she was analyzing the situation.

"Well, no one's trying to kill me, so I'd have to say less," he blurted out. "What about you? Is being here scarier than any of your missions?"

"Oh, totally," Veyra nodded enthusiastically. "I almost peed myself when Queen Christine welcomed us earlier when we arrived. And then I was walking around before dinner and some guards found me and almost taser-ed me before they realized I was one of the Selected."

Wesley laughed. "Where did you go, it sounds dangerous if they did all that?"

"Apparently, the third floor is off limits to us, but no one told me," Veyra rolled her eyes sarcastically, and even though most people didn't talk like this to a prince, Wesley found himself enjoying her banter.

"I'm sure if you're with me, you'd be allowed. I'll have to take you sometime and show you how we live. Our bathrooms are entirely plated in gold,"

Veyra giggled, and Wesley promised himself he would schedule that excursion, the sooner the better.

"I'm hoping that means you have the most amazing coffee in the world, then. I'm more than a bit of an addict."

"Hey, I'm sure it's tough to be an agent and get decent sleep. I'll let the staff know to get you the best stuff we have."

Before they could continue their conversation, Lady Isabella joined them, which made Veyra excuse herself with a tight-lipped smile and eye roll as Lady Isabella's fangirl antics. Lady Nellie ambushed him after he got away from Isabella, and the only way he could get away from the two practically screaming girls was to tell them he had important business with the Prime Minister.

He joined Colin after grabbing another drink. The Prime Minister had traded Ben for one of the ladies, something Adele did not approve of, as evident by her glares, though Colin didn't seem thrilled either. Wesley tried his best to recall all of his studying, but try as he might, he couldn't remember the girl's name. She was strikingly beautiful, with her tall frame, voluminous black curls, and glowing golden-olive skin. Even though she was showing plenty of cleavage in her black gown, her upswept hair and statement earrings gave her more of an air of elegance than anything.

"Were you affected much by the civil war?" Colin asked her as Wesley walked closer to them.

The girl shook her head, oozing elegance. "Not too much in Waverly. Mitch Levi's rebels during the revolution took the city quickly, and without much violence. I didn't live in the city then, so I never even saw the soldiers.

"I remember they didn't hold Waverly long, either," Colin said. "And that's about as far from the fighting as you can get."

Whoever she was nodded. "Yes, I was fortunate to live in the city during the civil war too, where I was performing on stage. A lot of the people where I grew up supported both the revolution and the north's secession, so I'm glad I wasn't around."

She must be that theater actress from Old Broadway, Wesley thought. He just couldn't remember her name, and all the war talk wasn't helping. He loitered close by, stopping a footman to get a glass of wine, waiting for her name to be brought up.

"It's scary to know just how far right people went. It just seems unreasonable," the girl continued.

Colin saw Wesley approaching, and quirked his eyebrows. "Uh, I don't think you quite have it correct there, they weren't on any political spectrum, as far as right or left goes. It was outside of politics. No offense, though, Lady Ophelia."

Wesley made a note to thank Colin later for his name dropping. Lady Ophelia just gave him a blank look so he made his move.

"Trying to steal one of my ladies, Colin?" He joked as joined them.

"Never, dude. I'm married." Colin was visibly nervous as he made a hasty exit, clapping Wesley on his shoulder.

Lady Ophelia curtsied, dipping her head gracefully. "Your Highness,"

"You must be Lady Ophelia," he said. "Don't worry about all those titles. I'm fine with just Wesley."

She smiled softly. "It's a pleasure to meet you then, Wesley. It's funny to see you in person after always being in the tabloids."

"I recall hearing about you too," he made another note to thank Gracie for all the info she had dug up on the girls. He actually hadn't heard of Ophelia before, while she got her fame from Old Broadway, he was fighting in the war. "I hear you've been nominated for all those, um, theater awards for your latest role."

Ophelia dimpled, lowering her gaze. "Well I didn't win, but it was lovely to be recognized just the same. I love what I do, and I wouldn't trade it for anything." She spoke softly, but didn't appear to be nervous.

"I know Adele used to perform, between the revolution and the civil war. She left though when Juliet was born."

"I'm a big fan of hers, I saw her in a small role on tour when I was a kid, and she signed my program at the stage door, and now she's the First Lady. My first role was in the ensemble for the show she was in before things got bad, and when she left, I was the understudy for that role."

"Small world, huh? That's really cool."

She told him a bit more about her career before he excused himself, and talked to several girls whose names he couldn't remember at all, and no matter how much prompting he gave, they were clueless. Eventually, he made his way to the bar that occupied a corner of the room to get another drink and take a short break.

As turned around from the bar with a drink to go in his hand—his favorite tequila and tonic—he found himself face to face with Lady Lillian, who was in his mind, one of the prettiest girls in the Selection.

He barely avoided spewing his alcoholic beverage out of his mouth and swallowed hard. Her lips parted in surprise, and her blue eyes widened as she nearly bumped into him. Immediately, she took a step back, ending the close proximity with him, thankfully.

"Crap, I'm so sorry," he stammered, "did I spill anything on you?"

She was his same height in her sandal wedges, and looked even prettier in person, dressed in a neutral colored strapless tulle dress, with little vines of beads twisting down the bodice. It didn't seem like she was wearing much makeup, and she didn't have on any jewelry other than tiny diamond studs, showed off by the fact that her golden blonde hair was slicked back into a bun.

Lillian shook her head as she dropped into a curtsey. "No, it's okay. I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going, and the heels don't help," she motioned to her feet, and lifted up her hem a few inches, before smiling. "It sure makes for a memorable first meeting,"

Running into girls was becoming a far too common occurrence in Wesley's life, he decided. Especially pretty ones that made him turn into a blathering idiot.

"I take it you're not much of a heels girl then."

"Not at all!" Lillian shook her head. "I'm not much of an indoor girl either. I'm so glad our rooms have balconies."

"Right, you are a forestry worker," he said, before realizing how stupid it sounded. Lillian didn't seem to notice, but her face got all soft and it was adorable.

"Yeah, I study the environment and patrol the protected area where I work."

"Where are you from? Sorry, I thought I had memorized everyone, but…" Wesley resisted the urge to facepalm.

"It's okay, I totally understand. I'm from Ottaro."

He resisted the urge to run away and find some nice girl from down south who preferably had never even heard of the war, though not likely. Ottaro had almost seceded, and fighting there had been the heaviest there out of all the provinces that had not seceded. For all her beauty and love of the outdoors, this girl might even be a rebel herself.

"I was there," he blurted out. "I thought it was further west, but that's where my plane crashed…" Trailing off, Wesley remembered the stars, and the landscape dark and quiet as it stretched out before him. Maybe Lillian had been there…

The world around him exploded, and everything was on fire in an instant. 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. He twisted around, and saw blood in the snow, and then he saw Drake-

No, he didn't want to remember. It hurt so much.

Lillian jumped back as the glass slipped from his shaking hand, spraying their shoes with glass and liquid. She looked shaken, and for a second he felt bad for startling her.

Then her face started to blur in front of him, and he stumbled back, banging into the bar counter. The vertigo didn't stop, it still felt like he was falling…

Drake shoved him out of the plane before he had time to protest, the parachute strapped to his back. The darkness was everywhere, and it was only getting closer, the pinpricks of light changing into campfires. Rebels, they were down there, they were going to kill him when he got to the ground, he was going to die…

She caught his arm as he stumbled to his knees. She smelled like sugar cookies, and her skin was so soft

"Wes, can you hear me?" Lillian was saying. She was surprisingly strong, her hands on his chest, practically holding him up as he sagged against her. It wasn't working, so she put his arm over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He tried to tell her that he wasn't okay, but there was so much smoke in the air he couldn't breathe. The rebels knew where he was, he was going to die if he didn't run. But he didn't want to leave Drake…

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor of the staff hallway right off the Main Hall, holding up his head in his hands, propped up against the wall. It was quiet here, and he could hear the sound of waiters and kitchen staff talking, and smell what they were cooking.

"Wes?"

A bottle of water appeared under him, held by a hand with pastel pink fingernails. He didn't label Lillian as the type of girl to wear pink nail polish, but he must have underestimated her.

He looked up, but it wasn't Lillian sitting across from him, with worry etched across her face, the other pink fingernailed hand resting protectively on his knee, an escaped strand of her dusty blonde hair over one green eye.

It was Lissa.

…

…