Hey everyone, broken record apologizing for late updates, I actually worked really hard on this one, but kept getting stuck! It's pretty long, though, and I think it turned out pretty good!

Thank you for reviewing! MissKaydence, Nameless, canifindtheone, mnbvcxz-xx, delovlies, bibliophile609, and RunawayGirl8125!

Announcements-I'm super petty, so the first (upcoming) group date will be with the girls with the most reviewers (unless they already have had a date!). Also, if you have not sent in the rest of your form PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do! Also, there is a fancy-shmancy ball upcoming (more in this chapter) so if you're Pinterest trash like me and have boards for your characters, pin away! (Alternatively, you can message them to me or I can add you to the board!)

This chapter begins with a flashback that began in chapter 4, if you're confused.

…

Ears ringing.

It was easier to hear now, but still overshadowed by screaming in his head that refused to go away.

The silence was oppressive, almost as bad as having to be absolutely still and not make a single noise.

Outside their hiding place—one of the backrooms leading towards the hangers—the former civilian airport was a mess of noise, and he was glad he couldn't hear it all.

Drake looked at him, and there was a kind of fear that made him even scared in the eyes of his copilot. What made it worse was when he looked at Elvira, conscious now but bleeding form a gash in her forehead. She had always been unshakable, but trapped in the midst of a rebel attack on their airport, even she was scared.

What do we do? He mouthed at her. Elvira shook her head.

She didn't know.

He was still half-deaf from the explosion, but he could still feel the new ones, rattling the room, the walls, the ceiling, his very bones. There was the distant rumble, almost like thunder.

Except this thunder was blowing apart their air force and his soldiers were probably dying and he was never going to get out of here alive.

The explosions were getting closer, more frequent, louder.

And not for the first time in his life, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

he

was

going

to

die…

The memories never ran far anymore.

Angeles. Palace. Bed. Safe.

The outside world was still and quiet, still dark, but gray instead of black. Wesley sat up, wincing and groaning at the pounding in his head. The smart thing to do would be to go back to sleep, but over the last few weeks, he had found that wasn't an option.

Maybe they were all right. Maybe he should tell someone about this like they had all told him too. But sooner or later, he had to forget, right?

He reached for his phone on the bedside table, only to find it dead, so he chucked it across the bed.

He climbed out of bed, only intensifying the pounding in his head, and headed to the bathroom to use the facilities and splash some water on his face. He got a bottle of water out of the mini fridge by his bed and left his bedroom in favor of his office. He was awake, might as well make the most of it.

Wesley switched on the lamp, and then flopped down on the chair, before spinning it around to start the coffee maker off to the side of the desk on the shelving. Of course, as his mom told him over and over, one of the servants could easily do it for him, but he insisted on doing it himself instead of making some poor maid wake up early. Sorta like having a valet to pick out his clothes and things, he still hadn't gotten used to palace life again.

As he waited for the coffee, he tried to neaten up the stacks of papers and folders and used mugs to find his laptop, planner, or at least his headphones or phone charger. Joseph had initially cleaned it up every day for him when he'd first started, but Wesley had threatened his life over it, he didn't even let the cleaning staff touch anything aside from whatever needed to be dusted or swept.

Wesley finally located his charger and plugged his phone in, and unearthed his laptop. He made a tower of dirty mugs and set them by the coffee maker, and filled up the last clean mug with the fresh coffee, all easily done with the aid of his swivel chair. Time to get to work.

He was hoping for some nice difficult budget consultations or other strenuous Council stuff, but despite the avalanche of papers, there was only Selection related stuff. He found the folder of all the forms and made a place for it in one of the filing cabinets, which he quickly began to fill up with whatever other Selection stuff he found littering his desk.

When there was space to situate his laptop, and his hidden planner reappeared long enough to show him he had a Council meeting at eleven, he fired it up to check emails and get started on Council business. Unfortunately, he had about a million emails from the entirety of his new Selection planners, not just Nicole and Christine and his mother, but Nat, Adele, Gracie, and Elvira. Much of it was a forward that contained several long-running jokes between them, mostly about Ethan being an idiot and Gracie having to turn him down at the end of his Selection. There were about three from the Council, and the one from Colin reminded him that the Prime Minister was out of Angeles for a few days, so there wasn't anything terribly important. The other one was a recap of yesterday's meeting, and the last one had canceled today's meeting because Colin, Elvira, and apparently Wesley wouldn't be there.

That was a bit of surprise since Wesley had every intention of avoiding the Selection, but he'd ask Andrew at breakfast. By then, it was inevitable that he had to read some of the Selection emails, ignoring the list of suggested girls to eliminate, girls to take on dates to see if they would be eliminated, date ideas, and upcoming events. The only event he marked on his calendar was the Victory Ball next week.

There was a memo from his mom that had a subject line in all caps, so he figured he'd better read it. It reminded him of three dates he had scheduled last night that he had no recollection of doing so, lunch with Lady Reese (hence why he couldn't attend the Council meeting), a tour of the palace with Lady Isabella, and then taking Lady Iris downtown tomorrow afternoon.

Other than that, Queen Francesca was ordering him to meet with Lady Lillian as soon as possible to apologize for what happened before Lissa had taken him into the hallway and suggested scheduling dates as soon as possible with Lady Eleanor and Lady Fallon, both who had emerged as early favorites among the people.

Wesley closed the laptop lid with a little more force than necessary as the realization set it. He groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. He had forgotten somewhere in between the hangover and memories about meeting Eleanor last night. He had been drunkenly wandering the palace, avoiding going to bed, and found solace in the empty, dark Great Room. Somehow she had found him there, and why, oh why, had he been possessed to give her Lissa's necklace?

He had meant to talk to Lissa today, and apologize for their conversation last night, and try to convince her that it had only been the alcohol talking, but apparently, the alcohol had made him ruin that plan. To make things worse, Eleanor and Lissa were from the same province. Wesley had a lot of explaining to do, including to Lillian, about his panic attack.

And also, apparently to Fallon, though this time he would be sure to wear a tie so she couldn't concoct another excuse. The girl from Yukon still scared him, though more her family than anything, there was something about her that made him determined to talk to her more. Maybe it was just the idea of being rejected over not having a tie on or his shoes were untied, or maybe it was how terrified she had seemed when she had spoken to him. He'd have to ask her in person instead of sending a card, there would be less of a chance of her turning him down.

The next order of business would be to look at the list of ladies he hadn't connected with during the reception and eliminate some, but before he could, the sound of a car coming up the drive pulled his attention away.

That was weird, since not too many cars drove on the main driveway in front of the palace unless someone was coming or going. It wasn't any of the official black SUVs with tinted windows the guards used either, but a small red hatchback. Since the windows of his office overlooked the front of the palace, he watched it pull thru the drive, and park out of sight in the servants parking area, which answered the question of who the driver was, though not what they were doing out at five in the morning. He didn't expect to see them again, as the servant's quarters in the basement had an entrance by the lot, so Wesley was surprised when two hand-in-hand figures reappeared under the windows.

Even from the third floor, he could see their smiles, and that they were still dressed in evening clothes. And even from up there, he recognized them easily. Joseph looked different out of his uniform and in dark jeans and a white t-shirt with a blazer. Lissa looked totally different with her hair loose with lots of makeup, still in the dress from last night, though missing her blazer.

To make things even worse, they were walking quite close, and holding hands, and looked like they might have been drinking the way they walked. Wesley watched them disappear in one of the side entrances. The sight brought a sick taste to his mouth, and not from the coffee. He felt his stomach tighten and felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—jealousy.

And for a moment, it was almost worse than the memories.

Wesley stood up so quickly his chair went flying backward, jostling the papers even more. He balled up his fists, more to avoid throwing his laptop or coffee mug in his anger, and gave the chair another shove across the room. The only way he knew how to fix this was to run away.

By the time Joseph appeared for his job-nearly an hour late and looking considerably less happy with dark circles under his eyes and even worse of an attitude than usual—Wesley was back at his desk, working away on the first few ladies to eliminate. He had gone for a run around the palace grounds (twice) and was showered and dressed.

"Good morning, sir," Joseph said, entering the room. "Anyway, I can be of service?"

Wesley looked up, trying to look calm even though he wanted to punch his valet for more than just being an ass.

"Maybe an hour ago you could have been, but I don't need anything right now."

"Well, you're always telling me you don't need me anyway, so I figured you wouldn't," Joseph retorted, not seeming to care that he was addressing royalty.

"Late night? You look terrible," Wesley said, gritting his teeth.

Joseph smirked. "It was worth it."

Wesley nearly broke his pen in half. Struggling to maintain his composure, he spoke in his calmest voice. "I don't need anything, so please go away."

He pretended not to see the valet's eyeroll, and went back to his work, though he spent the next ten minutes staring at his notes, and burning with anger.

In the end, he may have taken it out on some of the Selected. Ethan had eliminated eleven girls after his first meeting, Andrew had only sent six home. Wesley went a little crazy and eliminated fourteen, leaving him with twenty-one. To be fair, his mom had suggested ten of them, and the other four were just his own opinions. They were all nice girls, mostly younger ones from the southern provinces. He was under strict "suggestions" to not eliminate any of the girls from the provinces that had seceded or were high in rebel support, so they were all staying, even Lady Dresden, who hated his guts.

He hadn't connected with any of the fourteen, they all seemed too starstruck to talk or the opposite and didn't like him. Wesley had only made some polite small talk with them, and none of them were remarkable. It was a mix of all the castes, and Queen Francesca approved it, so he went with it. After breakfast, he convinced Nicole to come with him to the rooms of each of the eliminated girls to tell them personally. Most of them were okay with it, only trying hard not to cry. The girl from Allens looked like she might slap him, but only nodded and slammed the door in his face.

Nicole said it would look good like he was serious about it, but he wasn't. It hurt too much to think about other things, and this was easier.

He had lunch with Lady Reese, took Lady Isabella on a tour of the palace, sent a note to Lady Lillian, and avoided seeing Lissa or Joseph. Day one of the Selection was looking good.

The ladies only lessons with Christine and Nicole (and no doubt many of the other former Selected crashing their party) in the morning and had gathered in the Woman's Room after lunch. After overseeing preparations for his date with Lillian, Wesley headed to doors that always seemed close to him. He had texted Nicole, asking her to make sure that Fallon would come out into the hall so he could ask her out for tomorrow, and just as he approached, he found the brunette stepping outside.

She looked elegant, with her blonde streaked hair in soft curls, dressed in an elegant knee-length light blue dress with white heels, her big eyes watching his every movement. Wesley straightened his tie and stopped in front of her.

"Lady Fallon, you look lovely," he said.

The model only blinked and nibbled on her lip. She held her arms in front of her, pressed against her stomach, though she stood straight, with her shoulders thrown back as if she expected a photographer to appear and capture her for a magazine or something.

She didn't say anything, so Wesley awkwardly chuckled.

"So…" he began, but Fallon beat him to it.

"Are you wearing a bowtie on purpose or are you actually trying to make me hate you?"

Her voice was soft, and as much as he wished it was mean, there was no doubt of her brutal honesty.

"Whaa-?" he glanced down at his bowtie, having dressed up for his date with Lillian. Okay, yeah it was navy blue and his pants and blazer were a lighter shade, but…

"It's not that bad," he mumbled.

Fallon looked up, and they made eye contact for all of half a second before she looked back at the offending accessory.

"It's a bowtie. And it doesn't match."

"Okay, fine. We'll do this your way," Wesley yanked off the bowtie, and then held out his arms to prove his point. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Fallon wrinkled her nose as she took in his outfit sans bowtie. "Are you only asking because of my last name?" She said it was almost like a sigh.

Wesley sheepishly lowered his arms, "Maybe…"

She made a little humming noise. "Hmm…I don't think I can go out with you until you show me better clothes. Sorry?"

"Why is that a question?" Wesley asked.

Fallon shrugged, clamping her lips together. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I have to go," her voice squeaked, and before Wesley could respond she ducked back into the barrier of the Woman's Room, preventing him from following.

"I'll bring cookies!" he called after her before the door closed, which only made the entire female population within burst into laughter.

Wesley may have hit himself purposely in the face with the door, but it was louder than he intended, and he could hear more laughs from inside. This day was getting worse and worse.

Still leaning against the door of the Woman's Room, he sent Nicole another text.

Can I please come in? Fallon turned me down again, so maybe if I ask her in front of an audience she'll say yes.

Even if you bring cookies, no, sorry :) came a few seconds later from Nicole.

Can you tell them I'm taking a really strong allergy medicine that makes me loopy so they don't think I'm an idiot?

Nicole didn't reply, and Wesley didn't get a chance to bug her more, because the next thing he knew, the door was opening, and because he was still leaning his forehead against it, he lost his balance and fell down in a heap, almost knocking over the door opener.

The ladies were now laughing hysterically as Wesley scrambled to his feet. In front of him, Lady Lillian stepped back in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand. This was their second meeting, and of course, the second time they had literally run into each other.

"I am so sorry!" she said.

From across the room, he saw Nicole and Nat doubled over with laughter, no doubt relishing their Selection coordinator roles even more now.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" Nat exclaimed.

"Sorry," Wesley said, standing. He gave his most courteous bow. "Ladies, my apologies," he turned to Lillian and offered her his arm, "I believe we have a date, Lady Lillian?"

The tall blonde smiled, and then accepted his arm, and Wesley quickly steered them back out into the hall.

"I'm not sure that started off in the best way possible," he said when the door closed behind them.

Lillian shook her head and brushed her shoulder-length blonde hair out of her face. "No, but it was definitely memorable, especially to happen twice! By the way, you don't have to call me Lady, unless it's a law or something."

"Coolio. Oh, you don't have to call me Prince either. It takes way too long, and half the time I don't even realize people mean me anyway."

She smiled and dipped her head so her hair covered her face. She was wearing a loose, simple cut dress that was a sort of faded blue color, paired with open-toed heels. In her hair, she wore a wreath of pale pink flowers.

"So, I thought I'd show you the gardens," Wesley said. "I take it you like the outdoors, working in forestry and all?"

Lillian nodded, "I know it's on the same coast, but Angeles is a totally different climate than Ottaro."

She didn't mention how their first meeting had ended, with him freaking out on her, and Wesley was grateful. For now, he just had to focus on being friendly and charming. He took her to one of the side entrances that would lead outside-never mind that it was the same one that Lissa and Joseph had used early this morning, forget about that.

Lillian was quiet as she let go of his arm, and they stepped out on the terrace, taking in a deep breath as she turned her face up towards the sun. She didn't seem nervous, which was nice because he was.

"It's so warm," she commented as they stepped down the steps of the terrace and out onto one of the garden paths.

"It's so hot, you mean," Wesley joked, shrugging out his blazer. Lillian smiled, and he watched her turn in a full circle to take in the gardens around them.

"How do you keep everything so perfect?" she asked, running her hands over the trunk of a small tree as they passed it.

"Not sure, I know the gardeners work out here all the time…"

"What about you, do you ever come out here?" Lillian turned her blue eyes on him, but he could tell she was being sincere.

Wesley slipped his hands into his pockets. "Not really. Unless I have a reason…"

She took his arm again. "Well, I know you're a prince and all, but my advice is to come outside more. You'd be surprised how it can help you."

Wesley laughed. "What do you mean, help?"

"I don't know, you seem pretty tense. You should try to relax." She said it so simply, like maybe actually possibly there was a chance that that could happen, that everything could go back to normal, that everything could be okay.

Only for a second though, and then he realized what she was implying.

He tried to take in that same breath of fresh air to calm himself down like she had down when they came outside, but it didn't really work. He came to a stop and turned to face Lillian.

"Look, about last night, I'm so sorry. I don't really know what happened to me when you said you were from Ottaro, I just couldn't…there were a lot of things that happened up there and…" he didn't know how to finish, so he just let the words hang in the air.

Lillian's blue eyes burned into him, but in them, he didn't find judgment or embarrassment or fear. There was something different—something that told him that she knew exactly how he felt.

"You don't have to apologize, Wesley. It's okay."

And for the second time since they'd come outside, he felt like there was hope, that maybe it was okay after all.

"It's okay?" he repeated.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I know that sometimes bad things happen, and it's hard to forget about them." The end of her sentence came out in a rush, the words all blurred together.

Wesley let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Lillian's lips twitched into a sad sort of smile, and they continued walking.

"The war sucked, didn't it?"

"Yep," Lillian agreed.

There was nothing more to be said, except the idle chatter as Wesley pointed out all the cool places in the gardens and Lillian told him the names of flowers and trees, and he asked her about her time at the palace so far and she told him about her family. Her older sister was married, and she lived with her mother, having lost her father in the war, which Wesley didn't ask about further.

"Here's one of the greenhouses," Wesley mentioned as they came up to a small building, the glass walls framed with white paneling, and a high steepled roof.

"It's lovely," Lillian said. She wasn't one to talk a whole lot, but with her, quiet was easy.

The inside of the small building was warm, though not overly so. There was a raised flower bed around the perimeter, except for the doorways on either side and in the center, was a brick patio, where Wesley had the rest of their date set up.

He had found out from her maid that Lillian's favorite food was cherries, so he had made sure to include those, as well as some other snacks and drinks.

"Here you go," Wesley pulled out her chair, and Lillian gracefully sat down, and grabbed a handful of cherries. He sat down opposite her, and followed suit, except with chips.

"Try one of these, they're better for you," Lillian tossed him a cherry, grinning.

"Yeah, that's why I wasn't eating them!" He joked, pulling off the stem, and chucking the whole fruit into his mouth and almost breaking his teeth on the pit. He mumbled a creative string of expletives as he tried to remove the seed from his mouth, all while Lillian laughed softly at him.
"You've never had a cherry before?" she asked.

"Never one that tried to kill me!"

She laughed more, her blue eyes lighting up as he spat out the pit in an un-princely manner. Wesley avoided the cherries while they talked, sticking to safe topics that didn't dig into the war for either of them, at least as much as possible.

"So, what do you think of our humble backyard?" Wesley asked, nodding to the gardens surrounding the greenhouse.

"Humble or backyard aren't really words that I would use to describe it," Lillian said, the corners of her mouth turning up in a delicate sort of grin. "But it's nice."

"Just nice? I mean, this is the palace and yeah, it's nice but surely it's more than that?" Wesley feigned horror around a mouthful of chips.

Lillian laughed at his antics, and he decided he liked making her smile.

"It's absolutely lovely, and maybe it's just me, but I like my outdoors to be wild. Giant trees, mountains, and valleys, no one around…I wouldn't expect that in someone's "humble backyard", though. It could be a lot worse."

Her blue eyes took on a shine when she spoke, and it made Wesley want to see all these things with her, and why it made her seem so sad. At the same time, he knew the answer, somewhere in the back of his mind, he just didn't want it to be true.

"Well since you've already insulted my backyard enough," he joked, "how could it possibly get any worse?" It was an attempt to lighten the mood or maybe his tendency to joke about everything took over and wouldn't let him be serious.

She shrugged a quick light shrug and looked out the windows. "It could all be gone."

Fire. Gunshots. Smoke everywhere. Tangled in his parachute, the canopy tangled in the branches. The cold, bloodstained snow seeping into his very bones—

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed the memories away.

They never ran far anymore.

He reached for another handful of chips and shoved them in his mouth.

"What do you like to do in your free time? Besides make fun of my backyard, that is,"

His voice was too loud, too happy, and he blamed the crack halfway through on chewing.

Lillian looked back at him, cleared her throat, and put on a cheerful smile. "I like hiking, obviously. And photography, when I have time. Other than that, I like to read, and sometimes write."

"Oh cool, we should have a library date sometime. That is, if I can tear you away from my humble backyard?"

This time her laugh was the slightest bit strained, but the memories had left them for now.

"I would like that."

They stayed a good while longer, talking about nothing important, or at least trying to. Before long, he had to get her back to give her time to get ready for dinner and meet with his Selection advisors to plan out a few things.

He kissed her hand when they got to her door, and said their goodbyes, before he headed to one of the parlors on the first floor, one that had been dubbed the Selection office, and thankfully- one that he could enter. Christine had sent him an"urgent" email on planning for the upcoming ball, though he didn't really see why his opinion on tablecloth colors and guests lists mattered, but oh well.

As he passed the Woman's Room, however, he was suddenly stopped by someone pouncing from the doorway.

"Wesley!" Lady Eleanor said brightly, her face lit up with a cheery smile. "Hi!"

Wesley nearly dropped his phone, and jumped out of his skin at her sudden appearance, skidding to a stop, and jolting backward.

"Woah, slow down buddy, it's just me," Eleanor laughed, holding out her hands in surrender.

"Oh, sorry. Hey, Eleanor…" he said, trying to figure out why she was ambushing him—again. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to speak.

Her face broke into a happy smile, and she quickly tucked her dark hair behind her ears, bouncing on her toes in a way that made him remember that every time they had talked she seemed like she was terrified.

Her hands went to her throat, and he watched her wrap her fingers around the necklace—Lissa's necklace.

"I just wanted to say thank you again for the necklace, and to tell you how much I'm looking forward to our date,"

"Ummm, our date?" Wesley laughed awkwardly, racking his brain for any memory of this.

Eleanor shrugged quickly, "It's not been decided or anything," she said so fast she almost tripped over her words. "But whenever it is, I'm looking forward to it!"

Before he could reply—not that he even knew what to say—he was tackled again, this time by two much smaller figures. He started, caught off guard by another surprise attack.

"Uncle Wesley!" Evangeline cried, echoed by Sophie as the little twin princesses attached themselves to his legs. Wesley's heart was pounding, and he hated it. They were just his nieces, and he couldn't even relax in his own home.

"Hey, girls!" he knelt down, shaking off everything else, and wrapped an arm around each of them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Mommy has a meeting with you!" Sophie said, giggling, and Wesley glanced over his shoulder to see his sister-in-law, the queen, approaching, looking immaculate as always. He waved, but the greeting died on his lips as he saw Lissa behind her.

She was smiling at the girls, but when she saw Wesley, she looked down at her high heels. There were dark circles under her eyes, though she had done her best to cover them up with makeup. Getting in at five am probably did that to you. Even worse, though she was back in the professional dress of a governess, the light gray blazer that she wore over her white blouse and pleated black skirt was strikingly similar to the one he had seen Joseph wearing at said five am when they had gotten back, and it didn't fit her either.

By then, Evie and Sophie had realized that one of the Selected was in their presence, and had gotten shy, running back to Lissa and Christine, and peeking curiously at Eleanor.

"Lady Eleanor, how are you?" Christine asked warmly.

Eleanor looked even more nervous than before, but she managed a reply. "I'm great, Your Majesty." She curtsied, and let go of the necklace.

Wesley missed whatever else they said after that.

Don't look at her. Don't look at her.

But he couldn't help it.

Lissa met his eyes, and even without asking, he knew that she had seen her necklace on Eleanor's neck. But what he didn't know was why he had done that.

She lifted her chin, and her green eyes narrowed, and then, ever so slightly, she smiled.

The memories never ran far anymore.