Another chapter for Heart's birthday month! I realize I tend to drag out one day in multiple chapters, and this chapter is no expectation but I think it turned out good : ). There are more new characters so if you get confused check my profile or Pinterest! One more chapter on the Public Trials after this but we'll go a little faster. Review shoutouts to Virtue01, delovlies, and mnbvcxz-xx.

A scene in this chapter was partly written by my friend who goes by many names you may know her as UltimateMaxmericaShipper or Sora Kalopsia or simply Paige, an og collaborator since the beginning of ST with me. I don't know if you're still reading girl, but this is for you!

…

After Wesley wasted a good hour flopped on his bed scrolling through his phone, there was only enough time to shower and change into a more formal suit than he'd worn all day already. The reception for the Berlin family was being held in the Great Room despite the small gathering of the palace household and a few guests. Maybe they wanted to show off. As usual, he was running astronomically late, which was why he was surprised to find Fallon waiting for him downstairs.

"Hey, Fal…" he said, not expecting her. "What are you doing here?"

Her arms were crossed over her body, holding her elbows like she was cold. The folds of the skirt of her silvery gown hung heavily on her slight frame, though with the heels she wore, and her hair styled in a high bun, she seemed taller than usual. The dress wasn't floor-length, it stopped above her ankles to show off her shoes, and the skirt was just a little longer in the back than the front. It was a very model thing to wear, and while usually, she pulled her outfits off effortlessly, this dress seemed to dwarf her.

Her nose wrinkled. "Please don't call me that," she said, pursing her lips.

"Oops," Wesley remembered one second too late she hated nicknames. She didn't say anything to give him a clue as to why she was here. "So…shouldn't you be inside?"

Fallon's eyes darted to the side. "Probably."

"So why aren't you?"

She shrugged, eyes downcast. "I don't know. I thought everyone was inside already." Her hands went to the high neck of her gown, fidgeting with the metallic beading.

"Yeah, they are. Your family included. Don't you want to see them?"

Fallon didn't meet his gaze as she shook her head.

"Oh," Wesley concluded that Fallon didn't have so good of a relationship with her family and that reconnecting with them was not her idea of a good time either. He sighed dramatically for emphasis.

"Well, unfortunately, I think we have to. But I am more than willing to offer my services to go in with you. I'll stay with you until you tell me otherwise and kick me to the buffet line. If you want."

Fallon's eyes flickered to his and a ghost of a smile appeared. Then she nodded once. "Thanks."

He held out his arm. "Shall we then?"

She took his arm with exaggerated grace and he realized she was playing along with his goofiness. And that made him happy.

Wesley had been in the Great Room last night with Eleanor on their date, but it seemed like another lifetime. It was decorated similarly, a smaller version of dinner and drinks set up than the usual balls and events had. He was glad that the offer had been extended to the household instead of just the family. There was a little less attention on him and a lot more buffer from the elephant in the room-some of the Berlins were on trial tomorrow- with the others around. In addition to his mom, brothers and sister's law, and the Selected, he saw Colin and Adele, Elvira, Gracie (and that mean Nick and Damian were probably around "on the clock" somewhere around here bothering their girlfriends ), Ben and Nat, General Connelly and his wife, and unfortunately, Jason Trevelyne. It was going to take some getting used to, having him at all the functions where Wesley was used to just having who he lovingly referred to as Ethan's leftovers. For once not a single niece or nephew was in sight and Wesley found he wished they were here, to distract from the tension in the room. He only counted seven of the girls, and a brief survey showed him Vera wasn't here, probably skipping the function. He didn't blame her, after such a long day. He made a note to stop by her room later to see if she was okay.

"If you don't like Fal, what can I call you?" he asked Fallon as they entered.

"Um, Fallon," she answered, her gaze darting wildly around the room as she found her relatives. Wesley tried to identify them as best he could from his Council knowledge. He knew Tristan Berlin, her grandfather and failed president of the north, from watching the news and he recognized her uncle George too, but neither of them was here. Probably for the best. Then there was her mom, Celinda, who he had seen earlier today at the Trials. That meant that the other adult was her dad, Oliver Karamakov-Berlin. It was easy to see which kids belonged to which parents. Fallon resembled her father to a certain extent, the dark hair and tanned skin, but her Karamakov-Berlin half-siblings were practical clones of Oliver. He knew Rachel was the girl and Adrian was the boy obviously, and he guessed they were in their twenties, older than Fallon, but he didn't know who was older. Fallon's other half-brother, Conrad Berlin, resembled Celinda, sharing her blonde hair and fair skin and sharp facial structure, though his hair was curly and longish for a guy, making him look a bit out of place. He hadn't skipped the reception like the other two Berlins on trial. Though he also hadn't, you know, persuaded an entire province and the surrounding ones to secede or finance an army. He was just a lieutenant, barely even worthy of putting on trial tomorrow.

"Geez, is that everyone? Big family."

"So is yours!" Fallon hissed back. Everyone was kind of staring at them as they made their fashionably late appearance and Wesley gave an awkward wave and ignored the death glare from his mom and the looks from a few of the Selected.

"My cousin, Sawyer, but he's 15. He's still in Atlin, I guess." Fallon filled him in in an undertone as they made their entrance. "Everyone else is here."

Fallon had never been warm to him, though they were better than when she had first got here, she still usually treated him with a certain amount of indifference. Tonight, it seemed like they were almost friends. She held tightly to his arm that he had offered facetious, and when Rachel greeted her, she seemed loath to part from him.

"Fally!" Rachel said, voice bordering on sarcastic. The way Fallon's face screwed up a little-told Wesley she didn't like that nickname either. "You look…extravagant." Rachel surveyed her sister and then held out his arms for a hug. Fallon timidly stepped into the embrace, barely patting Rachel on the shoulder before retreating to Wesley. Rachel looked intimidating, to say the least, in a black velvet gown with long sheer sleeves. Her hair was braided into a crown set with little gold filigree and she wore her makeup dark. Just as extravagant as Fallon, in Wesley's unasked opinion.

Adrian was next, and he was far quieter than Rachel as he greeted Fallon with a smile and a "Hey, Fallon." Fallon actually smiled back, and gingerly accepted the embrace he offered.

Fallon didn't bother to introduce Wesley or vice versa as she said her hellos to her uncle, father, and grandfather. For once, no seemed to pay much attention to Wesley as he stood by Fallon as she got through the introductions. Maybe it was because she was the youngest, but they all treated her like she was a little kid. George Berlin barely acknowledged her arrival, Tristan told her they needed to see more of her on the Reports, and it was obvious Rachel wasn't very fond of her. The Berlins were all dressed impeccably, almost outshining Francesca's formal dinner dress code. Conrad Berlin didn't have much attention for Fallon, greeting her with a handshake which was weird. Her dad at least told her she looked nice and hugged her. Celinda didn't hug her, she stood in front of her daughter with her arms crossed and looked over her from head to toe. Rachel wore black, but Celinda blatantly wore white and gold, the rebel colors, making her look like she belonged more in a Convicting ceremony than a reception for well, rebel society.

Fallon had kept coming back to Wesley in between family members, and he thought of how she had wrecked his closet with him that one time to get back at Joseph, and decided he could stick with her for this introduction, no matter how scary Celinda was.

Hi, Mom," Fallon said softly.

Celinda didn't reciprocate. "Your Highness," she said, presumably to Wesley, though she still surveyed Fallon. "We had no idea you and our daughter were close. We hardly see any of her in the press."

Despite her stiffness and hesitation to reunite, he could tell at least part of her missed them and craved the affection that was denied to her, except from maybe Adrian. Wesley had always enjoyed a close relationship with his siblings, even more as they grew older, and he had no idea what Fallon's relationship or living situation with them was, but if there was one thing he understood, it was scary mothers.

"It's a recent development, actually," he replied. "Right, Fal?" he tugged her into his side and wrapped his arm around her, knowing she would hate it in any other situation.

"I'm glad to hear it," Celinda said. "I didn't know our little Fallon was capable of something like that."

"Something like what?" Wesley asked her, hating the way the woman had yet to speak directly to her daughter.

"A relationship with someone proper," he heard Rachel snicker behind them.

Celinda's eyes flickered over to her and her lips formed a slight smile. "Something like that."

Fallon practically wilted next to him. He gave her shoulder another squeeze and she didn't pull away. They made more awkward small talk with various Berlin's and Wesley avoided the temptation of leaving Fallon to the lion's den to get a drink, New Year's Resolutions, and all.

"Are you okay?" he asked her when there was a moment it was just the two of them.

Fallon nodded, quick and tense. "I would be better if you used my actual name instead of Fal," she said with distaste. Wesley almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her request when it felt like they were being interrogated by everyone.

"Okay. What about…Lon? You know, like the end of your name? Fal-lon—"

"No," she cut him off. "Not that either."

She avoided his eyes and shrugged his arm off her shoulder. Wesley frowned but let it go. One day he would figure out this girl…maybe.

"Hey!"

He turned around to find Veyra, beaming at him. At least, he thought it was Veyra, it took a second for his brain to catch up.

"Who are you and what have you done with Veyra?" he was only half-joking. She had swapped her usual black for a lavender silk slip dress. She looked great in it, of course, just very not Veyra.

She smiled wider. "You know we only had three hours to plan this. I think it turned out pretty good?"

It was by no means the New Years' yacht party, but he remembered their conversation from this morning and how she was willing to try for him. Like the dress, organizing this was completely out of her element. And he appreciated it immensely.

"It's perfect," he reassured her.

"So, do you want to get a drink with me? I didn't come up with any cocktails but—"

"Um," he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "I actually kind of need to stay with Fallon."

Veyra blinked. "Oh."

"You know her family," he started a half-hearted explanation.

Veyra frowned, not happy. She glanced at Fallon and dropped her voice. "Yeah. It's her family. You don't have to be her bodyguard."

It bothered him how she said it in front of Fallon like Celinda had done, like she wasn't even there, even in a whisper.

He shook his head. "Sorry Vey. Maybe later? Come find me."

Her face fell, but she nodded anyway and left them alone.

When dinner was served, he gave Andrew a quick death glare and hissed "Whose idea was this?" as they took their seats.

"Celinda's request," Andrew replied. "She has a proposal for us."

That didn't bode well either.

The long table was quiet as the food was served. The Berlins seemed more at ease here in the palace than Wesley's own family. Celinda commanded the room with her presence alone. Despite having all the Selected, the Council, and the royal family there, no one seemed to be able to break through the awkward icy silence that permeated the gathering. Finally, Wesley couldn't take it anymore.

"So!" he began, compensating for his nerves with over-enthusiasm. "How's Angeles weather treating you guys so far? A lot warmer than Atlin, would be my guess."

Everyone was looking at him now. Wesley could easily name all the times he had been so embarrassed he blushed. This was one of them.

Fallon, who was sitting next to him, leaned her head against her hand. No one said a thing for a moment, which was awful, before Oliver offered a weak response.

"Yes, somewhat warmer down south for us," he said, his tone diplomatic. "I think it suits Fallon down here, doesn't it, darling?" he said, looking at his daughter. Fallon nodded in reply, saying nothing. From down the table, Wesley saw Georgia studying the Berlin's carefully over the rim of her wine glass. Today was the first time he had really seen Georgia unnerved, and tonight was the same. She watched the Berlin family members like they were about to start shooting up the place.

"Yes, well the Selection has its perks," Wesley said, shutting up as he caught his own mother glaring at him. He caught Veyra hiding her smirk at his first and only attempt at diplomacy.

"And yet," this from Celinda, "I don't see Lady Vera with us tonight. Is this not one of the many perks of the Selection?"

Wesley coughed. "Uh, she's not feeling too great tonight. She sends her regrets." He had no idea if any of that was true. Luckily, Christine intervened with more small talk, better executed than Wesley's, and the conversation proceeded elsewhere, though still stilted. Rachel spoke a little, mostly Celinda answered the questions. Oliver, Adrian, and Conrad said hardly anything. Oliver spoke like a diplomat backing up his wife who clearly ruled the family where he was simply her husband, not even technically a Berlin, though he had been granted her name for infamy's sake. Adrian, who Wesley guessed was closest to Fallon in age and relationship, seemed uncomfortable, like any second, they might be dragging him off to a trial of his own, though his rank as a private hardly demanded it. It was obvious Conrad would have preferred to escape additional notice before his own trial, and any of the firebrand behavior Wesley had seen from media and his refusal to surrender wasn't present at the reception tonight.

By the time, the third course was served, Wesley was itching for the night to end. Not only was it uncomfortable, but Celinda Berlin had an uncanny way to passive-aggressively insult the other guests. The count was half of his Selected, both sisters-in-law, and all the Council members that weren't of royal blood, in one way or another. He should have expected it, but it totally caught him off guard when she proposed her deal.

She waited until another pause stopped the conversation before, she sat down her glass with purpose.

"I won't pretend we came here this evening solely for the purpose of dining in the palace," she said. "Though it has been most satisfactory."

"Few do," Andrew responded, in what Wesley recognized as full-king-mode. He decided to just keep quiet.

"There's been…unrest in our country of late, between the faction staging their attacks and this," she waved her hands to indicate the lot of them, "this ill-fated idea of the Public Trials. You can surely not hope to unite the country at all following this mockery of justice, can you?"

Andrew started to speak, but she continued anyway.

"You saw what happened today, with some of the more recognizable figures. Cody Trevelyne is a martyr now, regardless of how his verdict goes, anyone who is unhappy about the conclusion of the war now sees him as betrayed and one of your ladies of the Selected as a traitor," Her intense blue eyes snapped to Georgia, who avoided them. "To say little of General Caine."

"And yet you spoke against him today, Lady Berlin," Andrew remarked casually. "You seemed to want harsher punishment for him. Can you say the same thing about your father and brother and son tomorrow for their own trials?"

Celinda's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I won't pretend I do not want to see my own family imprisoned. I also won't pretend that the Berlin name means a lot more in Atlin than the Shreave name, or any elected officials you have forced upon us. I have a proposition for you."

No one else spoke, and Wesley realized the tactical use of speaking with so many witnesses present. She wanted something. Andrew nodded, indicating that she should continue.

"Have the Trials, it's not like you can stop now. Let Illea see that everyone gets a trial. I know you can't possibly be planning to harshly punish any of these accused, not with all the work you've been doing to restore the union of the country, not with a Selection. Whatever this stunt of your Convicting ceremony is, I know it's a game, to show the people that unity is more important than past crimes. Allow Tristan and George to return to Atlin. As a sign of your cooperation, Conrad will remain here in Angeles on your Council. In exchange, Atlin will be united with the monarchy. We have vast influence over the rest of the north, perhaps all this unpleasantness with the faction can be persuaded to go away as well."

Andrew hesitated, glancing at his brothers for a second.

"What title would you have Lieutenant Berlin hold?" this came from Ethan.

"Conrad is a prime candidate for Secretary of Northern Affairs," Celinda replied.

"That's my—" Jason Trevelyne started, but he stopped.

"You have yet to officially announce your candidate for the position," Celinda ignored Jason, focusing all her attention on Andrew. "Would it really be wise to allow the former chief of staff officer of the rebel general to hold it? When his brother is responsible for so much conflict as well?" she pressed her lips together, and it struck Wesley that he had seen Fallon do the same thing so many times. The way she spoke and commanded the room, it made it hard to remember she was Fallon's mother. "And of course, Fallon remains in the Selection," Celinda continued. "No falling to the demands of the faction or anyone else."

"The Selection is not a matter of state," Wesley blurted out. "It's my life."

Celinda hardly spared him a glance. "Selections have almost always been used politically."

Fallon caught Wesley's eye and just shook her head, so Wesley let it drop. None of the Council offered their advice, though no doubt there would be an emergency meeting later. Jason didn't even try to defend himself.

Andrew considered all of this. Then he held out his hand to her. "You've got yourself a deal."

Celinda smiled. She didn't shake his hand, instead picking up her wine glass and holding up for a toast. "To a brighter a future."

The toast was answered, everyone weirdly quiet. The whole thing was strange to Wesley. Everyone, even the Council, even Ethan, and his mom, even the other Berlins, seemed to understand that this was something they were audience to. They were witnesses, in what could have easily been a private dealing behind closed doors.

When dinner was over, everyone got up from the table and began to mingle over more drinks. Wesley poked his fork at the remnants of dessert (was fruit and ice cream even an acceptable dessert though?). It hadn't been particularly good or enough to pull him away from the growing sense of dread the deal had brought. He noticed Fallon was still sitting next to him, not joining the others. Maybe she just was nervous around her less-than-welcoming family, maybe it was just too much interaction for her today.

"Fallon," Wesley whispered at her. She didn't look up, staring down at her empty plate, lost in her own world. "Fal." Nothing. "Lon," he tried his name from earlier, trying to get her attention. "Lonnie."

With a start, she looked at him. Her eyes met his with uncomprehending confusion before they focused on him.

"Don't call me that," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"What, Lonnie?"

"Don't call me that," she cut him off, voice icy cold. She crossed her arms over herself. "I told you just use my name."

"I was trying to get your attention. It has a nice ring to it! It's just a nickname."

Her voice broke, just slightly. "It is not just a nickname. I told you I don't like nicknames."

Her shyness was gone, replaced with anger. Anger driven by pain, he realized.

"I'm sorry—" he reached out to touch her, to comfort her, but she pushed back her chair violently, with her arms hugging her she almost fell over without the ability to balance.

"Please—just shut up," she ground out through gritted teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.

That's when he noticed she was digging her nails into her skin, on her arms. So hard it left marks.

So hard she was starting to bleed.

She seemed to comprehend that he noticed what she was doing then. She looked down at her arms, slowly lifting her shaking hands, a shudder running through her.

"Holy shit, Fallon…?" he asked cautiously.

She jumped up and ran out of the room. The conversation of the others halted, the room falling utterly silent as Fallon's flight caught everyone's attention. Wesley found himself looking at her family members, at her mother. But Celinda hardly seemed to care. Wesley's heart ached for Fallon at that moment. Everything almost made sense for that one brief breath of time, everything he knew about her. It didn't matter. Fallon's secrets, her pain, whatever drove her to do what he had just seen her do, it didn't matter.

For the second time that day, Wesley ran after one of his Selected. Fallon needed him to save her.

…

Georgia thought it was strange that after railing against the rebel general today at the Trials, Celinda Berlin would show up to the palace in rebel white and gold. She didn't pretend to know why the Berlin's did any of what they did.

Since the First Lady Adele Evans was so fond of wearing the red, blue, and gold of the monarchy, Georgia didn't want to copy her tonight. Tonight, she just wore the red-the color the seceded provinces had discarded. The wine-red velvet gown hugged her body and then trailed out at mid-thigh, the same deep red of her lipstick. She wanted to make some sort of statement, though she supposed it didn't matter what they wore tonight. Everything else had turned out to be far more important.

In the few previous times she had met Celinda Berlin, the woman reminded Georgia of her mother. Maybe it was the blonde hair or the high fashion, perhaps the coldness. It was unnerving to say the least. Georgia had watched her ignore her own daughter throughout the evening, no doubt scheming behind her surface-gracious words. It wouldn't be the first time.

Fallon and Wesley had run out of the room earlier, though the after-dinner reception continued, the atmosphere retaining its slight tension. She caught Jason's eye. He was terribly out of place, exchanging the exciting and never-slowing-down world of rebel society for the niceties and perfection of the palace. She didn't think he would ever look like he belonged here. Not that it mattered anymore. With a few honeyed words, Celinda had replaced Jason with her own son. Jason didn't immediately look elsewhere, which was progress. He still hated her; she knew, even though he had betrayed his brother too now. He worked with the monarchy now too, trading his ideologies of northern secession for the promise of his safety. He would have made a good Council member.

She had never met Conrad Berlin and knew little about him except for the footage of him refusing to surrender even after the Army of Atlin had, finding sympathetic voices with Caine and Cody. With Conrad on the Council, it would be even easier for the Berlins to get Fallon to find her way to marriage with Wesley, a crown on her head, and a position of power within grasp. Princess Michelle had renounced her claim to the throne, but King Andrew had three children, not to mention Prince Ethan behind him and his one soon to be two children. That put Wesley seventh in the line of succession, eighth as soon as Nicole's baby was born. If Georgia knew anything about the Berlins, that would change. This deal King Andrew had made was not a good idea.

She caught Celinda looking at her and sipped her drink in an attempt to hide. It didn't work. Celinda stood next to her, her drink in hand.

"Lady Georgia," Celinda said, not looking at her as they stood side by side. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person." The way she spoke told Georgia it most certainly was not any kind of a pleasure.

"We've met before, Lady Berlin." Georgia reminded her. "I accompanied General Caine to Atlin during the war."

"Of course. A shame, what happened to the general today."

"No thanks to you," Georgia glared Celinda, who didn't give her the satisfaction of eye contact. It hadn't made sense earlier today—Celinda Berlin accusing a man of almost exactly what her family was also accused of. Now she understood.

"Cody Trevelyne, though." Celinda drummed her fingernails along the side of her glass. "There may yet be hope for him. General Caine was a price we had to pay, as was Jason Trevelyne."

Georgia looked to where Jason was speaking with Adrian Berlin. "Everyone pays a price in the end, don't they?"

Celinda finally looked at Georgia, her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. "To get what they want they do. You'd do well to remember that, Lady Georgia, or you may find some prices are too high to pay."

She took her leave in a flurry, the heavy fabric of her gown trailing after her wake, leaving behind Georgia somewhere in between relief and horror. She looked around to check if anyone had taken note of their conversation.

Maybe it was too high of a price to pay.

…

He found her in the back of her closet, the tulle of her dress making her look like more like a discarded doll more than the living, breathing human being she was. Her eyes were red and tears still streamed from her eyes. More vividly than he ever had seen them before, he noted the blood caked under her otherwise perfect fingernails, and the scratches she'd raked on the skin on her arms. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but she didn't stare at him with wide eyes full of slight disdain or shyly tell him to leave her alone or any of the other Fallon mannerisms he had become accustomed to either.

Somehow, that was what worried him most. That, and the emptiness behind Fallon's blue eyes. Usually, they seemed to shine with some kind of aggressive, passionate fire. Something that burned inside of her and made her insult his ties and act like she was above the whole Selection thing, that even though he was a prince she was better, the fire that made her say she wouldn't date him unless he dressed better, that would be brutally honest with him and still save him from total embarrassment and force herself to dance with him. The fire that made her brave enough to tease him and have a panic attack in front of him and still be able to tell him not to call him by a nickname with tears still on her cheeks.

Now… even the embers had burned out.

Not exactly knowing how to help, Wesley sat down next to her, taking care not to touch her, and gestured to their surroundings. "Man, we have got to stop meeting in closets. People are going to think we're doing something scandalous."

She didn't crack a smile or roll her eyes. She didn't do anything at all. She just stared blankly at the gray wall as if it were the most fascinating movie she'd ever seen.

There was nothing for what might have been considered the most awkward seconds of Wesley's life, and then…

"I didn't do it on purpose." Fallon's voice was quieter than it had ever been, and she cast her gaze firmly on the floor. "I never… I don't mean to do it," she took a shuddering breath. "And I… I don't want to do it…" She seemed desperate to explain herself. "It's just… I get so afraid and everything spins around my head. And to make it stop spinning, I… I… It… grounds me. The pain, I mean. And out there… you said… that name and… I lost control."

Wesley was not stupid enough to repeat what he had dubbed "The Nickname from Hell". He was, however, exceedingly curious and afraid of what Fallon was like in this state. From the first time they'd met, he'd realized that someone had damaged her, made her fearful of messing up, but this… the girl in front of him looked so broken that he could hardly stand it. He wanted to hug her, to wrap her up in a blanket and protect her from the world outside, but he remembered the "No touchy" rule and decided not to push his luck.

"I'm so sorry, Fallon. I should have stopped talking when you said you didn't like nicknames." Wesley knew his apology was lame, but he needed to say something. In the back of his mind, his conscious was screaming at him that this was his fault, although, with the girl's teetering stability, he wondered if it had only been a matter of time.

There was a quiet, again, until suddenly he found her ice blue eyes looking directly into his as if she was examining his very soul. He braced himself for another screaming fit, but it didn't come. Instead, he heard her say in the most emotional voice he'd ever heard out of the girl, "You look like him."

"What?" Wesley was highly confused about where this conversation was going.

"You. You look like a boy I used to lo… know." She had flicked her gaze back to the wall. "His name was Donovan."

Wesley was 100% sure that this was not going to be a happy story, simply by the way she spoke in past tense.

"But I didn't call him Donovan. He was just Van to me, and I was Lonnie to him," she whispered the nickname that had caused all this. "That way, we could pretend we were other people. Normal people, I guess. Happy people, too. But in the end, it was just make-believe. And I had to wake up." During her speech, Fallon had brought her knees to her chest as tears continued to silently stream down her face. "He's gone now. My grandfather found out about it even though there were already all sorts of rumors about me and one of the servants. He told my mother and they told me I had to leave him. When I couldn't, my mother arranged the accident, and she didn't even care about me. They said it was the soldiers, but I know it wasn't. Rachel told me. Conrad was supposed to do it, she said. He fired the first one, but Donovan tackled me and couldn't get off because he got clipped. Conrad refused to kill him, so Rachel did it. He died protecting me."

Wesley felt cold all over, thinking of how these people were sitting downstairs, in his home, who could kill so easily, without regard for their own family.

Fallon looked at Wesley straight on, unafraid of him, for quite possibly the first time in the Selection. "You look like him. Well… up close, I guess you really don't." Her voice shook, but he knew this was the real Fallon, not the one coming up with bullshit excuses to avoid him. "His eyes were green, not like yours. And he was taller and lankier, and he didn't smile all the time like you do. He was more serious, scholarly. But I thought you looked like him when the Selection was announced. It was funny. I'd never seen the resemblance until that day, and then I couldn't unsee it. That's why I agreed to enter. All through filling out the form and the plane ride and the makeover I kept kind of hoping. It's stupid, I know. It was so stupid. I knew he was gone. But… I thought… you looked so much like him…"

There was more pain in her voice than he'd ever heard as she curled in on herself. "He's been gone for so long that it's getting harder to remember. Maybe I just thought you looked like him because I wanted a chance to be with someone again. With him again. But it's not the same. I think… I thought maybe I was just meant to be alone. When you're alone, see, no one can hurt you. That's why I didn't want to get close to you."

"Why you always told me that my clothes were the cause of our inevitable divorce?"

She still didn't smile at his joke.

"I'm here for you." Wesley's voice was firm. "I'm your friend, Fallon, and you can't stop me from being one for you. Even though this whole Selection thing isn't for us, we're still… we can still be friends. If you want, I mean." He attempted a small smile, though it was probably sadder than he meant it to be. "Without a friend like you, who is going to tell me what tie looks stupid?"

And then she was touching him. Fallon, the girl who half the time he thought hated him, was buried into him and sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. He wasn't sure how long they stayed there, in the closet, like that. He held onto her and she to him, and eventually, she looked up at him. Her eyes were wet, but no more tears leaked out.

"You don't look like him. Not at all. But… but I think that maybe, that's okay."

Wesley smiled at her. "So…" he took a deep breath, getting ready to ask the question he had asked Veyra only this morning. "Do you want to leave?"

He was sure she would say yes, after what she had confessed, so when she shook her head frantically and exclaimed "No!" he was surprised.

She looked so panicked that he was scared she was going to start crying or digging her nails into her arms again, neither of which he wanted to happen. He wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders like he did earlier tonight when he had stayed by her side as they met her family. The same family that had killed her boyfriend, he remembered.

"No, please don't. I know it's selfish. I'm not in love with you, and I don't think you're in love with me which is why it is so selfish and wrong of me to ask this of you," her words tumbled out. "But I can't go back, I can't. And if you do eliminate me, especially right now, they'll come for you. You know they paid Andrew to have me represent Atlin, don't you?"

Wesley nodded, remembering how his brother had told him on the very first day he had unofficially met these girls, looking through their headshots. He hardly believed that those were the same girls he now knew. It wasn't public knowledge, obviously, and Fallon had a huge backing of public support. She was right, eliminating her would be an unbelievably bad idea. He thought of Celinda's deal with Andrew tonight, how Jason Trevelyne had been cast aside so easily in favor of Conrad Berlin, and the charges effectively dropped on the other two Berlins.

Fallon watched his face, and she must have known what he was thinking.

"They've always wanted power," she said, her voice small. "Rachel didn't get into Ethan's Selection, and I was too young. They've never forgiven Lady Gracie for taking Rachel's place."

Wesley's mind was whirring as she spoke so he couldn't reply. The Berlins, their devious ways, their killing of Donovan and leading Atlin into secession, into war. Part of his brain screamed about Drake, as it often did, another part remembered Vera and Eleanor telling him how they had lost loved ones. What General Caine had said, how the Slaughter of St. George had been ordered by the rebel government. The rebel government that had been led by Tristan Berlin—the same Tristan Berlin who would no longer be punished for his crimes tomorrow. And now there was a Berlin on the Council and a Berlin in the Selection. His brother the king had maybe just made a deal with Celinda Berlin that could cost him his throne.

"They want to make you their chess piece," he surmised. "Their queen."

Fallon nodded miserably. "I've always done everything they say. I traded my life for their vision, to be the perfect heiress and the famous model and the rebel princess. I did everything except one thing," her voice broke a tiny bit. "And when I didn't, Donovan ended up dead. I don't want you to end up dead, Wesley."

"I'm not going to make you leave," Wesley said. "Even if this ends you can stay here."

"If?" Fallon didn't miss a thing, did she?

"When. I mean when," Wesley corrected himself quickly. Yeah, he still couldn't picture himself getting married. "I'm not announcing anything. We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Thank you," Fallon said, her voice wavering, hardly daring to believe him. Her eyes got glassy again as he spoke and he started to tell her she didn't have to do any of that, she could just hang out, when he realized she was smiling and actually smiling and no, she was grinning and giggling and these must be happy tears. She launched herself again at him, but it wasn't to cry. It was thankful and joyful and happy and warm but still a little shy and unsure and awkward. He hugged her back tightly, just like he had with Vera this afternoon, realizing something.

Everyone was messed up one way or another. It wasn't just him. Everyone needed someone to save them. Everyone needed someone to put their pieces back together, even if it wasn't all of them.

He didn't ask her if she thought the deal was a good idea or not or if there was more to the story about the death of Donavan if they could trust any of the Berlins, or anything. She told him in the story of how she met Donavan, her voice wistful. The son of a pianist for the Berlin's, before the war, they had met when they were children, seeing each other at each gala or party as Donavan slowly stepped into his father's shoes and Fallon's fame as a model skyrocket. How as teenagers Donavan was the only thing keeping her sane as she was driven into madness by her fame, by the expectations and cruelty of her family, how she thought she would marry him until he had been killed four years ago. How she had never been the same sense.

It was late when he left her, with a promise to get to bed and get some sleep. He offered to let her take tomorrow off, but she refused. Downstairs, the Berlins had left, obviously not caring enough about their daughter to check on her. Wesley was partly glad, he was unsure of how would react to seeing Celinda or Rachel right now, knowing what they had done to Fallon. Most of the household and Council had gone to their homes or rooms at their palace, with another big day at the Trials tomorrow. Even with the new Berlin deal, the Council meeting room was empty.

He did find his brothers in Andrew's office upstairs and knew he had to come clean. Fallon's story had only confirmed the growing suspicion he had all night. Wesley told them some of what Fallon had told him, leaving out the more personal parts, but giving them enough background to prove his point.

"You can't go through with this deal with the Berlins," Wesley came out directly with it. "There's no way we can trust them, not after what they've done."

"Who says I did?" Andrew said. Wesley hadn't been expecting that.

"Oh…so you didn't?"

"I told Lady Berlin what she wanted to hear," Andrew shrugged. "She believes that tomorrow everything will go according to her plan, and I have no reason to make her believe otherwise."

In turn, Wesley looked at Ethan and Andrew, realization dawning. "So… you double-crossed her?"

Andrew smiled. "I double-crossed her. George and Tristan Berlin will go on trial tomorrow and will be arrested shortly after."

"They won't be forgiven or get a chance to swear their oaths in the Convicting ceremony either, neither will General Caine," Ethan added.

"And what about the rest of them? Fallon said Conrad didn't actually kill him, but with everything that happened in the war…"

"I haven't decided. He would make a good ally if we can be sure of his intentions. He will be given justice for his actions during the war."

Wesley nodded. "How will you prove that they are guilty? I don't think they'll just lay down and take it, whatever we throw at them."

"It will be better if testimony came from someone close to them." Andrew hesitated. "Someone like the Berlin heir."

Someone like Fallon.

"No," Wesley said quickly. "You can't use her." He thought of her crying in her arms tonight, but also how she spoke about her family at the Trials today, how nervous she was to see them, but how much he could sense she wanted their affection. Imagining her, standing up like Georgia had done easily, testifying against them…

"You could at least ask her. She can say no if she wants. But surely she was privy to something." Ethan said. "Wes…this is bigger than just your relationship with her."

"Seriously?" Wesley asked, looking at Ethan. "What about everything you did during yours? How is this any different?"

Ethan didn't have an answer, but Wesley knew he was right. He sighed. "Okay, I'll ask her. But I can't guarantee anything."

He left his brothers then, deciding to talk to Fallon tomorrow morning and let her get some rest after a hard day. Half of him hoped she would refuse, the other hoped she would do it. She had been through a lot and come out on the other side, he had to give her credit.

He immediately flopped face first on his bed back in his room and kicked off his shoes. He could sleep for a week. And yet… there were still two more days to get through.