YOUR WELCOME GUYS, I'VE GOT A PILE OF STUFF TO DO BUT I DID THIS INSTEAD!

Review shout-outs to Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx, Anastasia The Goddess of Drama, delovlies, TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo, canifindtheone, and suicideblonde99, thank you guys!

Okay, so this chapter is extremely long (just over 9,000 words) so snacks are recommended if you read in one sitting. I wanted to give an overview to all the awesome characters I received, and if you have any problems or issues with the way your character was portrayed, please do not hesitate to let me know! I would love to know who your favorites and least favorites are, too (don't forget the girls from last chapter!). Also, if you have not sent in the rest of your forms please please please do so as soon as possible.

ALSO I LIED THIS STORY IS NOT GOING TO BE 20 CHAPTERS ANYMORE IT WILL BE MUCH LONGER BECAUSE I JUST LOVE ALL THE CHARACTERS. Apologies to those who have not read ST, many of the returning characters make appearances in this chapter.

This basically picks up exactly where the last one left off!
-Shades

…

"Here, drink this," Lissa pressed the bottle of water toward his hand.

Wesley didn't know what to say, so he took the bottle and gulped down as much as he could, trying to think of something to say while avoiding eye contact. There was a deep throbbing in the base of his skull, and if he moved his head too fast, things seemed to tilt at a crazy angle.

When the bottle was empty, he felt better, but he still hadn't thought of a single thing to say to this girl, sitting cross-legged across from him, her lavender gown bunched up around her knees, her neat bun now a haphazard mess, the gentle smile on her face, eyebrows crinkled up with worry.

In the end, Lissa was the one to break the silence.

"So, are you okay?"

It was the one question he never wanted to answer ever again, so he didn't answer.

"What happened?"

"That's a good question," Lissa said, drawing her knees up to her chest. "One second I was watching you talk to Lady Lillian, and then you just sorta went blank and stopped talking. Then you dropped your glass, and everyone looked at you, so Christine started making a speech to welcome the ladies. Then I left Evie and Sophie with Gracie and came over to see what was going on. You were telling Lady Lillian that you were going to die, and you kept trying to grab her by the arm. You were trembling so hard and freaking out. Are you drunk or something?"

Wesley winced, but the worst part was that he couldn't remember what had happened. He struggled out of his jacket, realizing he had been sweating like someone who actually ran marathons or something.

"Okay, so maybe I had…a few drinks. And didn't eat anything. Probably wasn't the smartest, seeing as that was combined with a life-threatening event, and honestly, I don't know."

"I didn't know talking to a bunch of women was life-threatening," Lissa said, raising an eyebrow.

She was right, of course. The memories had felt so real though.

"Wes, what happened to you?"

He didn't want to answer that question either.

Lissa sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"I'm assuming you don't want to know what happened after that, do you?" She dug around in the small white purse she had been carrying, and pulled out a plastic bag full of Goldfish. "Here, I had this for the girls in case they got hungry, but you look like you could use it."

Wesley caught the bag as she tossed it. "I don't want to know who else I offended, but I guess you better tell me, just the same."

"Well, when I got there, Lillian was crying, and you just collapsed. I caught you, and Elvira came and got Lillian, and told me to take you out here, so I did. I got you out here, and you kept grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, and telling me to wake up. You wouldn't snap out of it, so I just slapped you as hard as I could, and you sat down and now we're here. You messed up my hair, by the way."

Wesley tossed a handful of the crackers into his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say to her. They hadn't seen or spoken to each other in five years, and when they finally did, he'd freaked out so much that he'd gone crazy and mixed up memories with the present. Now they were sitting in a hallway and she'd given him snacks.

"I'm sorry. It still looks great, by the way…" It was the only thing that he could think of, but he regretted it as soon as he'd said it. Lissa just shrugged, and then pulled out the remaining hairpins and began to try to fix it while Wesley ate Goldfish and tried to come up with a way to explain what happened back there, but it was difficult when you couldn't even remember.

The question burst out of him before he even considered if he should ask it, she was just so cute sitting there with her hair all messed up and Wesley realized he knew nothing about her anymore.

"Did you ever go back to working in a club?"

Lissa froze, one hairpin in her mouth and the other halfway into her chignon. Her face screwed up, and for a second, Wesley thought she might slap him again, or cry. But she regained her composure and calmly took the pin out of her mouth.

"No. I never even thought about it. It's nice to know that that's what you thought I was doing all these years," Lissa said, avoiding eye contact. Her tone had hardened, and there was a new tenseness in her shoulders. She had come to Ethan's Selection from a background as a fifteen-year-old burlesque dancer trying to take care of her family, and had always been embarrassed about it, even when he first met her. Some of the girls had ruthlessly humiliated her for it, and she rarely spoke of it.

He hated himself for asking about it, and obviously she did too.

"I didn't know what else to think. I never heard from you after I met you while I was Tammins."

Lissa's green eyes flashed dangerously as she jumped to her feet. "Well I never heard anything from you either, so go ahead, think the worst of me. She's still just some slut who has no respect for herself, what the hell is she doing working as a governess, right? I'll tell you what—after I left Ethan's Selection, I went to college, I double majored in English and Illean History. The Selection money didn't last forever, so I had to earn my scholarships. I took care of my family, I worked as a secretary in a school so my mom and my brothers could have a nice house and go to school and eat well. When the rebels occupied for Tammins during the revolution, I worked in the hospital and in a refugee camp with the kids coming from Angeles and Fennley. And then when everything was over, I got a call from Queen Christine asking me if I wanted to come interview for the position. So no, I never went back."

She glared defiantly at Wesley, and it hurt almost as much as letting her go last time. Only back then, she loved him.

"Lis, I'm sorry. I'm just so messed up right now…"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "Here," her hands went to her throat and she unclasped the silver chain she wore, and pulled out the hidden necklace from under her dress, the same one he had given her on their shared birthday, all those years ago. "I think you should have this back." Her tone was frosty as she shoved it into his hand. "Maybe give it to one of your new girls."

That was how the queen found them, glaring daggers at each other in a servant's hallway, with Lissa's necklace thrust into Wesley's hand that wasn't holding a bag of snacks meant for the little princess, without any trace of whatever had happened before in the dining room.

Queen Francesca arched her eyebrows, and cleared her throat, causing both to jump apart.

"So, it was her that caused you to make that scene, was it Wesley? I knew it was a mistake to let her back in the palace," she said.

"Mom, it wasn't like that," Wesley protested, though it was clear the queen didn't believe a word she said.

"Oh really? Then why are you out here with her instead of in there meeting your Selected?" She didn't give him a chance to answer, only turned to Lissa. "Miss Dove, you have left your charges unchaperoned, and I think it would be best if you returned to them. One more infraction and I'll make sure your fired for neglecting your job," she snapped.

Lissa nodded, and curtsied, never raising her eyes from the ground, and made a hasty exit back to the dining room.

"Mom, it wasn't her fault!" Wesley cried, stepping in front of her. "I just…"

He just freaked out and had a full-blown panic attack or something, and hadn't been able to separate memories from reality. Maybe he really was crazy.

He didn't think he'd ever be okay again.

"You just what?" Queen Francesca crossed her arms over her chest. "Made Lady Lillian cry because you were so rude to her to sneak out with her? I knew you two had a flirtation during Ethan's Selection, but I thought it was over by now."

She had it all wrong, but there was no way he would tell her what was going on with him. No, it was better that no one knew, so no one would have to feel guilty or try to fix him. He had to fix this quick.

"Look, I'm sorry, and I'll apologize to Lillian, but this is really hard for me, and Lissa took me out here because I had a little too much to drink and was going to throw up. Elvira told her too because I was making a scene. That's why Christine did the welcome speech then instead of before dinner."

His mother's eyes softened, and she sighed deeply, before placing her hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, honey, I knew that Lissa's presence wouldn't be easy for you, but I think it's more than that. Making the adjustment back to royal life after the freedom of the army is going to be difficult, and I understand that. However, it is unacceptable that you continue to meet with her. Realistically, there isn't a reason for you to talk to her unless you're with Evie and Sophie."

Wesley just nodded, because he didn't really know what else to do. Maybe it was time to let Lissa go. He tucked the necklace into his pocket, fighting back against the rising despair he felt.

Queen Francesca continued, her tone softening. "Now, dinner will be served shortly, and as I gather, you still have several of the ladies to meet. So, I want you to go back in there and this time, you stay, no making a fool of yourself by going back out like you did earlier. In case you forgot, there are cameras everywhere, and they've caught all your stunts you've pulled tonight. This isn't a joke, and you need to take it seriously. You can apologize to Lady Lillian later, just make sure you meet the rest of them, okay?"

"Okay," he repeated dully. His mom smiled, and pulled him into a hug, before doing her best to fix his hair, which he immediately messed up again when she wasn't looking.

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't admit to his mom that he still had nightmares so bad he barely every got any sleep, or that sometimes thinking about the Selection or seeing Lissa made his panic so bad he thought he was back up north, or back in the plane crash. He didn't want her to know that he had to sleep with the light on or get drunk to even fall asleep, or that flying home from Trentworth had triggered the memories and that he'd had panic attacks that made him go insane.

Most of all, he didn't want to tell her what happened to cause all that. No one deserved to hear what had happened, and there was no way he was going to face his demons to tell her anyway.

As they re-entered the dining room, everyone looked up at him. He only saw Lissa, who quickly looked away, her attention back on Evie and Sophie.

"I'd start with Lady Valette," Queen Francesca said. "I know there are some tensions between her family and the crown, but I spoke with her earlier and she seems like a lovely girl."

She left him alone then, though her spot was quickly taken by Ben, with two shots of tequila in his hands.

"Here," the senator-turned-Council member handed the other drink to Wesley.

"Thanks man, cheers," Wesley tapped his glass with Ben's, and they drank. He probably shouldn't, as he'd already had quite a lot to drink, but to be honest, he didn't want to remember this anyway, and the less he remembered, the better.

"You know, sometimes I remember what happened up north too, when we rescued you guys from the warehouse. It's scary, and I don't think I can ever forget some of what happened."

"You don't?"

Ben shook his head. "Not usually. It stays with you. And I know you were in the action for much longer than I was. Just know, we're here for you, buddy. If you ever need to talk, just come find me, or Nat, or Colin or any of us, okay? I know this can't be easy for you."

Wesley swallowed hard. It would be impossible to tell any of them what happened. "Okay. Thanks, Ben," he said instead. "And thanks for the shots, I've still got tons of women to meet," he rolled his eyes, and Ben laughed before leaving him alone.

Wesley spotted Lady Valette, standing with Lady Piper, and went over to join them. He remembered Valette was the daughter of the Indian ambassadors to India, who had requested asylum during the civil war, but because of safety issues, they had to leave the ambassador in Whites. As for Piper, he was just glad he remembered her name.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, coming up behind them.

Both girls turned around, though it wasn't the warmest welcome. Piper gasped, her cheeks turning pink. The blonde held one wrist with her other hand, so her arms were folded over her pink silk dress protectively. Valette offered a polite smile and remembered to curtsey, but he could tell she was tense. Piper curtsied clumsily as soon as she saw Valette do it.

"Good evening, your Highness," Valette said. She was striking, especially with her Indian heritage. She had soft caramel skin and dark almond-shaped eyes, with dark hair twisted into a fancy updo. Even in her heels, she was tiny, dwarfed by her one-shouldered gown, with a deep emerald skirt and cream beaded bodice. On the other hand, Piper had fair pale skin, blue eyes and platinum blonde hair that was curled in tight ringlets for the occasion. She was only a bit taller than Valette, but wasn't as petite, just thin.

"Are you enjoying your time at the palace so far?" Wesley asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, thank you, Your Highness," Valette said with a cordial smile. Piper only gave a nod in agreement.

Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly. Where was Ben with another shot when you needed him?

"Where are you guys from again?" he asked.

Valette frowned. "Whites, Your Highness. Glad to be back in the rest of Illea now that the civil war is over."

"Yes, well I was briefed on your family's situation and I do extend my deepest apologies. Sending a military escort for your family into a seceded territory would have likely ended up in a lot of deaths."

His words were blunt, probably a bit more sarcastic that necessary, but at this point, Wesley was losing his good judgement.

Valette narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. "Yes, well no thanks to the crown, we made it out alive."

They stood in charge, awkward silence for a moment, before Wesley realized Piper had yet to say anything.

"What about you, Lady Piper? Where are you from?"

The blonde's blue eyes widened, and she coughed, before barely murmuring out something.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I'm from Clermont," she said.

"Oh, cool. My sister Michelle lives there with her husband and kids. I've been there a few times, the weather's like here. You should adjust pretty easily."

Piper smiled and nodded. It was clear she didn't want to talk much, but he didn't really want to talk to Valette more. He decided to ask both of them another question.

"So, what do you guys do back in Whites and Clermont?"

"I recently started studying to be a neurosurgeon when the University of Whites reopened," Valette replied coldly.

"Cool, brains and nerves…" Wesley said. They both turned to Piper.

"Um," she began, eyes widening even more. "Exercise rider."

"Oh, that's awesome! Nat used to do that, before her sister became a princess and everything. Now she's actually a jockey, or at least she was. I never know with her. Do you work at a track?"

Piper nodded, and once again the conversation died.

"Okay, well it was lovely to meet you both. I'll be sure to speak with you again soon."

Neither girl said anything, so he gave them finger guns in goodbye and went on his way.

He was approached by a raven-haired girl in a lacy pink and white gown as he left Valette and Piper. She was about average height, with pale skin, and elegant features. She carried herself like a dancer, and he suspected she was one.

"Hello, Prince Wesley," she said, curtseying. "I'm Eleanor Archibald. I just thought I would say hello before you left again."

She was smiling brightly, and looked nice enough, if nervous. He had to admit, it took guts to approach a prince like that. He didn't remember her from the Report or from his brother's pajama rating party, however, but gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Lady Eleanor, it's nice to meet you."

"I just wanted to thank you for this incredible opportunity. The girl who was originally drawn from Tammins declined, so I was the runner-up."

That would explain why he didn't remember her.

"Well, your certainly welcome. I'm glad you could be here."

Wesley studied this girl, from Tammins, the same province that Lissa had been from. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw her watching him and Eleanor at one of the tables with the little princesses. Once again, she quickly looked away. She seemed incredibly nervous, but she managed to come off as calm and collected, which he knew from experience took an incredible amount of skill. Physically, she drew resembled to one of the girls from Ethan's Selection, Ebony Winters, who had died under complicated circumstances when the royal family were held hostage in Yukon. She had the same long dark hair, angled cheekbones, and full lips, though green eyes instead of brown. But she was a lot nicer, this he noticed already.

"I'm sorry to come up to you like this, I know it was probably rude…" Eleanor's confidence seemed to slip, and she tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her bun back into place.

"No worries. It's a little refreshing to not have to make the first move. So what do you do, back in Tammins?"

Eleanor smiled, and Wesley decided she looked really pretty when she did. "I'm a ballerina. I'm nearly done with my training, and before I got Selected, I was beginning to train for my company auditions," Eleanor paused, and stumbled over her words. "Uh, I mean, it's not bad or anything, I, um, I'm glad to be here."

"Hey," Wesley lightly touched her hand. "It's okay, I don't expect you guys to completely leave behind your old lives, and I don't mind if you do your training here or whatever. I'm just glad you're here."

Eleanor lowered her gaze, biting her lip. "Thank you, Prince Wesley."

"No need to call me prince. Wesley's fine. Who knows, I might forget to answer if you call me that."

Eleanor laughed. "Alright. Well, thank you, Wesley."

They said their goodbyes, and before he quite realized it, he was introducing himself to a whole group of ladies.

When he finally had a moment to himself, he was mobbed by his older brothers, standing on either side of him.

"How's it going, little bro?" Andrew asked, draping an arm around Wesley's shoulders.

"Everything okay?" Ethan said.

Wesley groaned, and rubbed his face with his hand. "I don't even know. I still have ten girls left."

"No, like earlier. Are you okay?"

Wesley was really getting tired of people asking him this. "I guess so. It's not important right now."

"It's almost eight, you better make those last girls quick," Andrew put in. "I know you talked to Lady Lillian, but what about Lady Iris? You gave both of them nines."

Wesley wrinkled his nose. "Um, no, I haven't."

He surveyed the room, but didn't see her.

Andrew scoffed. "Why not?"

"Because she's really pretty and I'm kinda drunk?"

"Whhhattt? Come on, dude."

They then proceeded to steer him over to the bar and quickly convinced him to do more shots of tequila with them for courage. It probably didn't help that they were fairly tipsy themselves, and enjoying themselves far more than they should.

"You guys are going to ruin me," Wesley scowled, smoothing back his hair and adjusting his lapels as he located Iris with Ethan's help. "Hey, she cut her hair!"

The Three from Angeles had indeed. In fact, Wesley saw she had dyed it too, though the black seemed more her natural color than the brown it had been before. It now hung just above her collarbone, and tonight, it was parted on one side and lightly tousled. She looked even hotter in person, in a fitted white gown that hugged her hips down to her knees before flaring out slightly. The V-shaped neckline was bordered with a stripe of black that went with her hair and pale skin very nicely. She had a soft face, one that made him want to go talk to her even more (though the alcohol helped), and had a cute button nose, round cheeks, and full lips.

He was about to leave the bar when Nicole approached.

"There you are, Ethan. What are you trying to do, make Wes even more nervous?" She smacked her husband on the arm. "You really are a mess, you know."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead before she could protest. "I love you too."

Nicole grinned, but tried to act angry. "I wanted to introduce you to Lady Eleanor. She's a dancer too, she's about to audition for the Tammins Ballet."

"I thought Lady Alyex was the dancer?" Andrew asked.

"Alyex dances? I thought she was in medical school?" Wesley said.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "They both are, idiots. Now stop distracting your poor brother and come with me," she dragged Ethan off, and Andrew shrugged and went to go find his own wife.

"Good luck, Wes." He called over his shoulder.

Before he could get too nervous, Wesley found himself walking up to Lady Iris. She was standing by herself in a corner of the room, drumming her fingers against the flute of champagne she was holding. When she saw him coming towards her, her lips parted, and then she quickly looked around her for a distraction.

"Good evening, Lady Iris," he began.

Iris curtseyed, and hooked her hair behind her ears. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Wesley," she said, her face breaking out into a smile. She rolled her lips together, and her fingers tightened their grip on her glass.

"My brothers are much cooler, to be honest," Wesley said, shrugging. "So, what brings you to the palace?"

Iris smoothed her hair again. "Um, besides you? I mean…" she blushed, in an adorable way. "Um, actually, I wanted to do some good after so much bad happened, and I've been away for a while, but I grew up here, and yeah, I don't know."

"Oh, so not just for me?" Wesley laughed loudly at his joke, causing several heads to turn in their direction, but Iris didn't seem to think it was that funny.

"Uh, well I entered Prince Ethan's Selection too…" Iris cringed, and then shook her head. "I mean, that sounds like I just entered for the actual Selection, I promise I didn't…" she trailed off, nibbling on her lip, and waited for him to say something.

"Hey, no harm done. Though to be honest, you would have been a lot better than Mackenzie Parker, she came from Angeles too."

Iris smiled shyly. "I'd like to think so. I'm glad I was Selected for you instead." Her color flushed deeper, and she looked down at her black pumps. "I mean, you're more my age and everything."

"So, you wanna go on a date sometimes?" Wesley blurted out. Iris looked up, her eyes wide.

"Um, sure!" She cleared her throat. "I would love that. Of course, I'm in your Selection, so it's kind of expected."

Wesley chucked. "Listen, I make the rules. I can do whatever I want. What do you want to do?"

It wasn't exactly true, he didn't make the rules, but right now, in his rather compromised mind, he did.

Iris shrugged. "I don't really know. Whatever you want to do, I guess." She seemed frustrated, almost like she couldn't wait for him to leave.

"Okay, well what are you into? You're from Angeles, right? Do you like the beach or the city?"

At this, Iris answered immediately, and there was no uncertainty behind her words. "The city, definitely. I mean, the beach is cool and all, but I love looking at architecture and everything. That's why I decided to study it, specifically Urban Planning."

"Oh hey, that's really cool. So you must, like, be really smart then, huh?" Wesley leaned against the wall.

"Um, I guess so?" Iris wrinkled her brow. "I don't know, I just love the beauty in everyday things."

"We should walk around the city sometime, that is, if they let me out of here," Wesley rolled his eyes for emphasis.

Iris beamed. "Hey I thought you made the rules," she joked hesitantly.

Wesley laughed again, once again attracting plenty of attention, which seemed to make Iris uncomfortable.

"Not all of them, Lady Iris."

"Wesley!"

The two turned around, to see Gracie heading over to them. Well, Gracie and Damian, they both had their arms around each other, which seemed to Wesley a potential for someone falling but who was he to judge?

"Hey, you guys. And not to be rude or anything, I'm glad you're here dude, but Ben and Colin told me Damien wasn't invited?" Wesley asked, looking confused.

Damian smirked. "I wasn't, but Gracie threatened to scream until we let him in and no one needs to hear something that high pitched again..."

Gracie gasped, and then smacked her boyfriend on the head. "Babe!" she exclaimed.

Wesley glanced over at Iris, and saw she was grinning, practically bouncing on her toes.

"Oh, guys, this is Lady Iris. She's from Angeles, she's in college studying architecture."

Gracie extended her free hand that wasn't around Damian's waist. "Nice to meet you, Lady Iris. I'm Gracie Luna, and this is my boyfriend Damian Chapman. He's the Head of Security for the Prime Minister, and I'm one of Princess Nicole's ladies."

Iris shook both of their hands. "It's an honor to meet you guys. I know who you are."

"Aw, that's so sweet! We're not in the tabloids like this one here," Gracie nudged Wesley.

"I was at the airport when Prince Ethan's Selection started, and I met you there, you probably don't remember of course. I even have a picture with you!"

Was it just him, or did Iris seem more excited to meet Gracie than him? He made a mental note to find out more about this girl, but there were still nine others he had to talk to before his mom skinned him alive.

He excused himself, leaving Gracie to bond with Iris, and wondered around the room, trying to find one of the girls he hadn't talked to yet, trying to avoid having anything else to drink. This had gone well, he decided. Most it was a blur, and he couldn't remember half of the things he had said to any of them, but it had probably gone well.

Christine intercepted him when he gave in and was headed back to the bar, where his brothers had met up again.

"Ah, I think you've had enough. Besides, you only have a little bit of time left to talk to the girls." His sister-in-law said, looking every bit the queen in her gold-embossed powder blue gown. She took away the champagne he was about to drink and set it out of his reach.

Wesley groaned, and his face met the countertop of the bar. "Well, I would, except I don't know any of the others," Wesley complained into the marble.

He heard Christine sigh. "Okay, well I saw you already talked to Lady Eleanor, but there's another girl who was the runner-up in her province, Lady Veronica, from St. George. You could welcome her."

"Ew, gross. Seccessionist. I think I'll just stay here." Wesley mumbled.

Christine pulled him up from the bar by his collar. "Wesley, I swear, when you're drunk, you turn into Aidan, and he's literally four years old."

"I'm not drunk!" Wesley protested. Christine ignored him, and pointed Lady Veronica.

She was a tall girl with golden blonde hair and a cute smattering of freckles, perusing the appetizer table with a plate already piled with snacks in one hand. In the other, she held what could only be described as a wad of the skirt of her evening gown, bunched up around her knees.

Christine gave him the I'm-the-queen-so-you-better-obey-me-look that she often used on her kids, so Wesley had no choice but to get up and walk towards Lady Veronica.

Upon closer inspection, her dress was daring two-piece dress, with a white top baring an inch of her midriff and a champagne skirt covered with embroidery. She was tottering around precariously in a pair of strappy white platform heels and didn't notice his approach.

"Hey," he began loudly, "I don't think we've met yet!" He picked up one of the bacon wrapped things on her plate and stuffed it in her mouth.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Are you Prince Wesley?"

He shrugged, "That's me. Why? Were you expecting someone else?"

She narrowed her lips into a thin line. "Yeah, someone who doesn't eat my food. And is maybe a little less drunk?"

Wesley laughed. "Believe me, Lady Veronica, I'm not drunk."
She pulled herself up to her full height, which was nearly as tall as him in her shoes. "No, no, no. No Lady. No Veronica. It's just Vera, got it?" She jabbed a finger practically in his face to prove her point.

Wesley only nodded, fearing for his life all of the sudden. Vera looked placated, and stepped back. "Good. Do you want me to curtsey or something? I would have already done it, because one of the women you're related to I guess said we had to, but I can barely walk in this stupid things and I'd probably drop my food and fall into it, and we wouldn't want that. So just imagine me curtseying."

"And the skirt? I'm guess you can't walk in that either," he nodded to the gathering of fabric she held tucked under one arm and clutched in her hand.

"Ugh, yes, it's impossible! I practically died coming down those stairs," Vera picked up a tiny cracker with some sort of spread on it and popped it in her mouth. "This is going to take some getting used to, wearing this stuff all the time," she mumbled around a mouthful of crackers.

"So, I hear you're the runner-up from St. George when the first girl declined. What made you want to come here?"

Vera picked up another cracker. "Well it wasn't your sparkling party small talk," she muttered. "I just needed the money for my family. I lost my parents in the war, and I'm a Five, and no one really is throwing parties that need musicians in St. George right now."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Wesley offered.

Vera shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be. They died when Mitch Levi tried to start a revolution. Once it was over, I thought you guys did plenty to change things, so I never agreed with the secession."

"I think every one of the rebels deserve to die, betraying the country like that," a new voice cut in from behind them.

Wesley cursed out of a startled reflex, stumbling backwards, making Vera burst out laughing. The newcomer was opposite in every way of Vera, short and curvy, with light brown skin and wildly curly black hair worn up. The only thing they shared was the abundance of freckles. She was wearing a strapless peach colored dress, but in the front part of the skirt it ended well above her knees, though the back was normal. When he saw the nose ring, he remembered her from the ratings, though not her name.

Luckily, Vera saved him. "Hi, Callista," she said. "I guess you didn't support the secession either."

Callista glared at her for a second. "No, I didn't. What's your name again?"

"Vera," she said.

"Actually her name's Veronica, but she—ow!" Wesley yelped as Vera cut him off with an elbow in the ribs.

"But no one calls me that," she finished. "Hey, how did you get away with a dress that short? I practically begged my maids to not make me wear this, but they wouldn't hear of it."

Callista silently judged her, and then replied. "I have my ways."

"Hey, Lady Callista, right? I don't think we've met. I'm Wesley." Wesley interrupted.

Callista looked at him. "Do we shake hands or curtsey?"

"Curtsey, probably." Wesley said, before sweeping one leg behind him, and bending at the waist in a terrible mockery of one. Vera started laughing again, but was silenced by another glare from Callista. She obviously didn't appreciate the joke.

"Anyway, I heard you guys talking about the secession. I was just wondering what your brother was planning to do to punish all those in the provinces who rebelled against the crown." Callista said seriously.

"Uh…" Wesley wiped his hands on his pants, but he couldn't think of another joke to lighten the mood. Vera shuffled her feet awkwardly next to him. "I don't think that's the point. I mean, they're still our countrymen, even if some of them did decide to rebel. Actually, the whole point of going to war was to save the country as a whole."

Callista didn't look convinced, and Wesley felt the memories lurking in the back of his mind, but instead of fear, he felt anger. Heat flashed through him, and he unbuttoned his jacket as he spoke.

"That's one of the reasons I went north to fight, and to be honest, I wouldn't support punishing anyone who supported the secession. The war was hell enough, and punishing them would only make it worse, and no one else deserves to die, on either side. We all fought for something we believed in, and now we're all Illeans again. We fought for peace, not more war, and punishing them will make all we fought for nothing. It's time to stop hurting people. I don't want to see anyone else die."

As he finished, he realized that his voice had grown to a yell. Now, not only was Callista and Vera staring at him, but most of the room was.

Embarrassed, he pulled off his jacket, and threw it over one shoulder, raking his hand through his hair. He heard a slow clap, and turned around, seeing a tall blonde in a turquoise gown he hadn't talked to yet giving him a one-woman applause. She nodded in his direction, as a few others closest to him joined in.

Everything slowly returned to normal and he turned back to the two girls. Vera was grinning at him, still clapping, though Callista had narrowed her eyes and was sneering defiantly. That was obviously not the answer she wanted.

"Whatever. I saw things that no one deserves to see in Carolina when Mitch's forces took the city. You have no idea." She tensed, like she was about to leave, but had one last word.

"And it gives me the creeps that that rebel poster girl is here," she spat. "I bet she'd kill you if she got the chance, so be careful. It would be a shame if your perfect world was shattered and you saw people as they really are—cruel, horrible animals." Callista's eyes flickered to the blonde girl who had started the applause for him, and combined with her words, he recognized her as Lady Georgia, from Yukon. The same pretty face that had been stamped all over rebel propaganda.

Callista left, and Vera looked up at him and offered a shrug.

"Seeing war like that does terrible things to people," she said. "We have no idea what she saw."

Since he'd started talking to her, this was the first time Vera was serious, and he wondered what she had seen. It didn't last long.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take these shoes off and find a place to hide them before I break my ankles or something."

Once again, he was left by himself.

As he waited for someone to come tell him to go talk to one of the few girls left or ask him if he was okay, he watched Lady Georgia. He had forgotten about the possibility of having the face of the rebellion here in the palace. Applauding his speech about unification was odd, though. Unlike some of the other girls, she seemed perfectly at ease at the reception, gliding around in stilettos and eye-catching turquoise evening gown, with thin straps over the shoulders, and sheer paneling around her ribcage and ankles. He didn't know much about fashion, but he could tell that this girl did.

She was watching him, though, sipping from a flute of champagne like she had done it a thousand times. She wasn't smiling, and that seemed like the natural pose for her face, unlike the cheesy grins she wore in the propaganda posters he had seen that had dominated the north, saying things like "You Are Needed Now!" and "Fight For Our Freedom!". She was taller than most of the girls, with a slightly lanky build, long arms and legs, and a trim figure. She had arched eyebrows that somehow always seemed to be judging him. She didn't break off eye contact, only gave her wild dark golden-blonde curls a haughty toss.

Perhaps thinking about his values had cleared his head, because he remembered she was a Three, from Yukon, coming from a wealthy family, her mother being the daughter of the governor before all the craziness began and Yukon had been rebel territory ever since he was fifteen. Like Vera said, she probably had seen things.

Before he could convince himself not to or think too long about Callista's parting words, he was walking up to her, knowing he had to meet her eventually.

Georgia stood like a statue, staring him down as he approached, a dangerous woman who for all Wesley knew, had a gun down her cleavage or something. She was one of the few girls who had chosen to wear gloves, hers were a black and elbow length. She could have a knife. There were plenty of guards making themselves scarce around the perimeter of the dining room, but you just never knew. To make things worse, she was from Yukon, and the last girl to come from there for Ethan Lady Ebony Winters, hadn't worked out that well.

When he was close enough, she executed a graceful curtsey, tipping her chin down, before meeting his eyes with her deep brown ones in a way he found unsettling. She waited for him to speak first.

"Good evening, Lady Georgia," it was his standard greeting-so far, so good.

"Prince Wesley," she acknowledged, "I was impressed by your speech."

She was a woman of few words, and he could tell she chose them carefully.

He shrugged lamely. "I didn't know half of what I was saying."

"I know you were there, and I know that everything you said, you meant." Georgia's eyebrow twitched up slightly.

Wesley shuffled his feet nervously. "So, um, the applause, is that because you agreed or you just have a thing for guys who make impassioned political speeches when they are slightly intoxicated?"

Georgia flagged down a footman and exchanged her champagne for another one and handed him one too before responding.

"First off," she began. "I think you're more than slightly intoxicated. And yes, I do have a thing for guys making impassioned political speeches."

Wesley gulped down half his drink, wishing it was a little stronger for this conversation.

"You and everyone else in this room probably think I'm a traitor to the crown," Georgia continued. "I heard some of what Callista said, and I don't blame her. All I know is I did what I had to."

Wesley didn't know what to say, he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Wesley!" It was Colin, jogging in a very un-Prime-Minister way over to them. "I was waiting for you to talk to her," he said, joining them, looking like the older equivalent of his son Gideon because he looked so excited. Georgia took a step back, and her cold expression had turned to what might have been a smile.

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked.

Colin scoffed. "You idiot, may I present, Lady Georgia Maison Sorrel? You and everyone else know her as the socialite of the rebellion up north, and the symbol of secession, but in reality, she infiltrated their ranks and fed our intelligence officers much of the critical information we needed to win the war," he grinned, and waggled his eyebrows at Wesley like an excited little kid.

Wesley turned to Georgia and gaped at her, now in a new light. Georgia curtsied again, this time to Colin.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Prime Minister. I fear you may exaggerate my actions a bit." They shook hands.

Colin laughed, and Wesley had a feeling Adele wasn't going to be very happy with her husband later, even though Wesley knew Colin was just a sucker for his country, not the pretty blonde who had helped save it.

"Long story short, she's on our side," Colin explained. "And she helped save Illea."

"Well, I'm not very popular back home right now, once that information got out. I figured it was a good time to get away." Georgia seemed to be losing her cool a bit, and she even cracked a sort-of-smile.

He wanted to stay longer, now that he knew Georgia was actually really frickin cool but unfortunately, that was not to be. He was pulled away from one of the most interesting conversations he'd had all night by his mother, who's hands were like a vice grip that made him panic for a second.

"Wesley, it's almost eight, and you have barely made any progress," Queen Francesca scolded.

Wesley stifled a groan. "Mom, I'm trying, I'm swear! There's so many girls, and you hardly gave me any time!"

"Well I hope you've been thinking about who you are going to eliminate. How many do you have left to speak with?"

He did a count as a surveyed the room. "Five,"

"You have less then ten minutes. Make it quick."

She steered him over to two girl from Bonita and Paloma, nice girls from the south who didn't have anything to do with the war, but obviously weren't comfortable with their new life at the palace.

After he briefly introduced himself and talked to them for a bit, he made a quick pit stop at the bar for a shot of vodka before he spoke with the girl he had been dreading all night.

Fallon Berlin was the girl who Andrew had said that her father had bribed him to get Fallon into the Selection. He, along with the rest of the Berlin family-the wealthiest family in Illea—had been extremely influential in supporting Mitch Levi's rebellion with weapons and backing. They had openly supported Atlin's secession and the secession of the entire north, and been in a position of immense power until the close of the war.

He had been briefed about her background, and knew that because of her family name and her career as a model, she had a fanbase all around Illea, but her support was concentrated in the northern, secessionist provinces.

The thing was, Fallon didn't look like was the type of girl to back rebels or was the heir to a crime ring that had explicit amounts of most-likely-illegally gained money. She was pretty, but he did think all girls were pretty. With long dark brown hair streaked with blondish highlights that had been emphasized sometime during her application photograph and tonight, large eyes and long lashes, and lightly tanned skin, she wore her hair in loose curls with a center part, dressed in a delicate shimmering cream colored tulle gown. Like Georgia, she also wore elbow length gloves, though hers were cream satin. The hem of her dress was short enough to show off her heels, and she wore a large statement necklace. All evening, she had been floating around the room, not really deigning to talk to anyone but seeming perfectly at ease.

Which was why he was confused when she held her arms around her body protectively and her eyes got very large and fearful when he approached her.

"Lady Fallon?" he began, not sure of what else to say. The poor girl even had tears sparkling in her eyes. She blinked at him, before she offered a less-then-stellar curtsey.

"Are you aware that you're not wearing a tie or jacket for an occasion such as this, or are you actually trying to make me hate you?"

He was so surprised that he just stared at the dark-haired girl for good minute, and she just stared back at him.

He glanced down at his clothes, sure that he had put them on whenever he had changed for dinner. But Fallon was right. His tie was still crumpled in his pocket, though now he had removed his jacket that he'd somehow lost too. His dress shirt was all wrinkled and untucked, even one of his shoes was untied.

"Oops," he muttered. Fallon didn't say anything, only bit her lip a little, her eyes wide, still as a statue.

She finally moved. "Sorry... I forgot you were a prince. I just insulted a prince. I'm so sorry," her voice cracked a little at the end, and the lines of her body were rigid.

"Hey, no worries," he said casually.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Even though he wasn't standing very close to her, he could hear her breathing like she'd just ran down the Main Hall. Or that she was about to cry.

"Lady Fallon, it's fine, you're right, I'm a mess." He smiled, trying to reassure her. He stepped closer, and she flinched slightly.

They were quiet for a moment, but her breathing returned to normal.

"I'm so sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "I don't know why I said that, it's probably nerves." She met his eyes for a second, and then looked down.

"It's totally fine," Wesley laughed it off. "I'm sorry, I don't really know how my—" he motioned at his sloppy clothes, "-fashion catastrophe happened. You look pale, are you okay?"

It was weird that for the first time all night, he was the one asking the question.

Fallon took a deep breath, and lifted her head high, tossing her hair back. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm just not used to speaking to…royalty."

Wesley shrugged. "Ah, who is? I almost pee myself whenever any of the foreign royalty visit."

"But you are royalty," Fallon corrected, her voice void of emotion.

"Sometimes I forget. Can I get you a drink or something?"

"No, I'm alright, thank you."

"Oh."

The silence fell between them again.

"So, I don't have much time before dinner, so I want to ask if you'd like to, I don't know, go on a date with me tomorrow or something? I'll make sure it's okay with whatever lessons Christine and Nicole have for you guys. Is there a good time for you?"

Fallon pursed her lips, and waited a moment before she replied. "No, I don't think so,"

It wasn't the response he was hoping for, especially because Andrew had told him it would be a good idea to placate her supporters as soon as possible.

"Oh. Are you busy, or…?"

Fallon shook her head quickly. "No…um, I just…I can't be seen with someone who walks around with shoes untied to a state dinner."

Wesley almost laughed, before he realized she was perfectly serious.

"Okay, well some other time then…I guess?" Fallon didn't say anything, just stared at him with her big doe eyes. "Enjoy the rest of the night!" he blurted out, before shooting her some finger guns and all but running away.

Two more girls, he could do this.

He was halfway back to the safety of the bar when he decided he probably should tie his shoes before he tripped and died. After several failed attempts and curses, a pair of shiny red high heels complete with big bows on the toes appeared in his vision.

He dropped the hopelessly knotted laces, and slowly stood up. It appeared one of the girls he hadn't spoken to had found him. She was petite, with a headful of honey blonde curls, and a heart-shaped face, reminding him of Gracie. Along with her red shoes, she was wearing an off-the-shoulder matching red dress with a full skirt, coordinating with her red lipstick and the bow in her hair.

"Hi," he began. He remembered she was one of the youngest girls, at eighteen, even though she looked younger. She looked so nice he was positive this interview would go better than the last one, since he still wasn't sure if Fallon had passively aggressively insulted him or not.

"Lady Darcy, right? I'm sorry you had to wait to the end, but you know what they say, the best for last," he said with a laugh.

Darcy raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. Then she held out a piece of paper that had been clutched in her hand, before giving a half-hearted curtsey.

He unfolded the paper, only to have several additional sheets flutter to the ground. This caused Darcy to give an impatient humph.

It was a list, titled very officially as "Grievances". As he started reading it, Darcy quoted it aloud, practically word-for-word.

"First off, the castes are scrupulously unfair, there's no reason that lower castes should be punished because of what their parents did. And actually, how did anyone come up with them in the first place? They punish people all over Illea."

"Um…"

"Second, your hair is stupid, and might I add it looks even worse than usual tonight, along with the rest of your appearance. Third, you should have let the north secede. It was in their power and right to do so. Fourth, there's-"

"Wait, what?" Wesley finally cut her off, which made her glare at him. "I have no idea what's going on right now."

"That's probably because you showed up to this meeting hopelessly drunk, and you've been making a fool of yourself all night," Darcy spat, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Look at you, you're a mess."

"Thank you," Wesley said with all sarcasm. "Actually, I've already been informed of that."

He pulled the tie from his pocket and jerked it over his head, glaring right back at her. His tie-tying skills were somewhat compromised, especially not looking, but he managed to at least tie some sort of knot.

Darcy let out a scoffing laugh, and Wesley gritted his teeth, anger flashing through him.

"It was nice to meet you, Lady Darcy," he handed her back the list, but she didn't take it, so he just dropped it with the others. "Unfortunately, I feel a little too insulted to continue this conversation, so…enjoy your damn dinner."

Before he could say something he would really regret, he walked away, counting to ten, trying to put as much space between Darcy and him as possible. He checked his watch, finding he only had two minutes to speak to the last girl, Lady Reese Novell.

He found the caramel-haired personal trainer looking pretty nervous, with good reason, as she was the last one to call. He was rather intimidated by her muscled arms, accentuated by the lace top of her dress, flaring out to a golden yellow skirt part.

"Good evening, Lady Reese. I'm sorry you had to be last," he said.

She smiled widely, and adorable dimples appeared. He couldn't remember how old she was, but he figured she had to be one of the older girls by the maturity of her face and the depth of her blue-gray eyes.

"It's okay. There had to be one after all!" she said. "And you don't have to call me Lady, unless it's like a law or something. Reese is fine."

Before they could continue their conversation, the butler was announcing dinner, and the footmen were beginning to seat the ladies and the rest of his family.

"Crap. Okay, well I hope we can continue this conversation soon,"

Reese smiled again, and nodded. "Are you asking me on a date?" she said, doing her best to suppress excitement.

He had no idea how many girls he had invited on the first date of the Selection tonight, but at that point, he really didn't care as they sat up a time the next day.

He was still alive, and maybe this was going to be okay.

…