Hey everyone it's been awhile, lots of life going on but I still love this story and these characters and I am devoted to finishing it eventually! Another year anniversary of Heart has gone by, oops! But if anyone is still reading please enjoy this chapter!

-shades

...

The concept that one of these five girls was going to end up being his wife was something Wesley hadn't quite grasped. His mouth felt dry despite the spiked lemonade that was profusely sweating condensation in his hand as he stood in the hot sun of the Santa Anita racetrack, and that was probably due to the stupid suspenders Fallon had pulled for him to wear with his khaki slacks and white button down shirt. The girl hated bow ties but thought suspenders were amazing which was not something Wesley could quite get behind. It was giving him dry mouth.

The race track was quite large, redesigned after a historic track, and due to its close proximity to Angeles, included a royal box. It was set well away from the rest of the seating, but Welsey could still feel the eyes of, well, basically everyone on them. He had grown up with all this attention but today it felt over the top, like the feeling of his sock sliding down his shoe and not being able to fix it. The horses weren't running yet, except for a few taking warm up laps around the track, and for now, that meant they were the prime entertainment. Luckily, his mom had not come on this outing, for which Wesley was grateful. The kids had all stayed home too, the racetrack not exactly being the best place for them. And other than the Elite, their entourage only included his brothers and their wives,, including Nat who basically was family anyway. He liked the royal household and the usual ficxtures in events like this, but it was kind of nice to be a bit smaller today. Even with the king and queen here, Andrew and Christine and their kids, Wesley and his Elite still seemed to be the main attraction. It seemed like everyone he could see and probably those he couldn't see were all looking at them.

None of this seemed to bother Ethan however, not in the slightest. On the contrary, his brother was absolutely glued to the horses breezing around the track, and any spare second was spent studying the crumpled program in his hand. Every now and then he would say something to Nicole, who would smile in turn at him. On her other side, Nat was doing a similar thing, which Wesley found hilariously adorable. Even though Ethan had not married the horse twin, it was probably a good thing, as there had already been a few squabbles on either side of Nicole on the topics of various horseflesh and the races hadn't even begun. Horses were always going to be Ethan's hill to die on.

Nicole shot Wesley a look, and he remembered they were supposed to be having more Good Press Vibes tm, especially with the recent cut to the final five of the Elite. He had to at least look like he was taking this seriously, even if his brain felt scattered to the wind when he thought too much about it. he took another hearty sip of his drink. He had never been as into horses as his brother, but he always appreciated that day drinking was most definitely a thing at race tracks. He snuck a look at the Elite like he wasn't allowed to look at them, still finding it strange to see so few of them. They all looked great, partly due to Fallon's new role in designing their clothes.

The announcer came over the speakers, welcoming everyone to the opening of the racing season, the first in years since the war. He specifically welcomed the royal family and the Elite, and over the race track a great cheer went up as they all waved. The day officially began with the singing of the Illean anthem shortly after, with the flag snapping merrily in the breeze high above the track. Wesley felt a tightness in his throat, and found himself unable to sing. Time and time again he would believe that everything was over only for it to all come crashing down in his face. Somewhere, deep down, as he listened to the crowd singing, he found he still held a tiny little bit of hope that everything would work itself out and everything would be okay.

His eyes fell on Georgia, leaning on the edge of the box, dressed in the Illean colors, her dress pale blue with golden flowers on the jacquard fabric, deep red ribbon trimming the waist and bodice, matching her hat. She was smiling, just barely, a fragile sort of smile on her face as she surveyed the track, not singing either. It was almost like he caught her unawares, it was rare to see her smiling like nothing was going on in the world. He thought of her at the Convicting ceremony with Cody Trevelyne, and the way she responded when he told her of his presumed death, and wished he could go talk to her about it. He knew it must be awful to deal with the news of the death and presumed death of General Caine and Cody Trevelyne, the men she had betrayed and still suffered for it.

The anthem ended, and everyone sat down, the cheering and applause echoing long after. The announcer promised the races would begin shortly.

Wesley glanced around, trying to see where the rest of the girls were. Vera was sitting in the back, her feet propped up on one of the chairs in front of her, shoes off as usual. She had also abandoned her hat, the standard racing attire, and as he watched, she pulled her hair into a bun, tying it with the hair tie on her wrist. She saw him looking and gave a little wave and an awkward smile. He hadn't spoken to her since the night they had kissed in the hallways of the safe rooms, not fixing anything. Mostly his brain just thought (a lot) about the kiss, not about how it had only made things more complicated between them. She had been so angry at him, at the Berlins, and how they had handled it. They needed to talk, but Wesley was feeling a little too immature to hash it out with her.

He decided to ignore Nicole's helpful suggestion to interact with them and turned to Ethan instead.

"Alright Ethan, which horse should I bet on?" he asked, leaning over Nicole to look at the program Ethan held.

His brother didn't reply other than to shake his head and Wesley knew full well it was because Ethan came for the horses not to gamble.

"Probably none of them unless you want your mother to disown you," Nicole reminded him.

Wesley groaned dramatically. "Do we ever do any of these outings for fun or is it all just to look good for the cameras?"
"This is extremely fun," Ethan muttered, not looking up from the horse that was warming up down below. "The first race is going to start soon."

"And not to be that person," Nicole said quietly to Wesley. "But most of the point of this outing is to interact with your last five girls."

Wesley winced, now having no excuses. "Yeah, I know." he rubbed his eyes and stretched backwards.

"It's not torture," Nicole said helpfully, nudging his arm. "You agreed to keep doing this."

"I know," he said again. "It's…"

"Hard? Yeah, I remember." Ethan said from Nicole's side, still not looking up.

Wesley glanced at his Selected and lowered his voice. "There's just a lot of them still. Like how can you know which one you're supposed to pick? Did you just know all along?"

Ethan snorted. "No way." he said, then went back to watching the horses. Nicole rolled her eyes at her husband but fought back a smile unsuccessfully.

"Once the first race is over I'll go," Wesley agreed, just as the opening trumpets echoed over the track below, and a parade of race horses trotted out, led by calmer horses. Wesley watched the horses grudgingly enter the gates, tossing their heads and snorting in aprehension. He decided that was a big mood, having felt like that when it came to royal life many times. The horse race was exhilarating, the horses galloping as if their lives depended on it, and by the time the first few races were done, he had more of an appreciation for the animals than he did before. Of course by then, he had been putting off the girls for far too long, as was his usual custom.

His eyes caught on the safer territory of Veyra, Ophelia, and Eleanor standing together and took another drink before heading over to them. Those three were a little less confusing and scary than Georgia and Vera.

"Ladies!" he greeted them, inching in between Eleanor and Veyra. "How are we enjoying the races?"

They all greeted him with a chorus of greetings, smiling brightly.

"It's spectacular," Eleanor answered. "We should do this more often!"

"I didn't know things like this could be so fun," Veyra added. "I hate to break it to you, Schreave, but you're totally spoiled!"

Wesley laughed. "Yeah, I've noticed. It's part of my charm!"

"Veyra bet on that last race," Ophelia told him. "Her horse came in last."

"Hey!" Veyra playfully swatted at her friend.

"Unfortunately that's what usually happens to me too," Wesley admitted. "I was black-listed from gambling today."

Eleanor touched his arm lightly. "We won't tell if you do," she said softly, and Wesley noticed she smelled really good, her perfume delicate and floral. It made him nervous, in a giddy sort of way. Impulsive, he grabbed her hand, keeping it close between them so the other girls couldn't see it.

The action made his giddiness spike, especially when Eleanor tightened her grip on his hand.

"You all look great," he improvised. "Like princesses." Immediately he realized what he just said and cringed inwardly. Outwardly, he just cleared his throat. Eleanor had the grace to smile while Veyra snorted at him, and Ophelia giggled.

"You're not so bad yourself," Veyra said. "I like the suspenders."

With his free hand Wesley hooked his thumb into said suspenders. "I'm not a huge fan, but Fallon makes the rules," he said, shrugging.

"Well I think they're great, and Fallon knows what she's talking about," Ophelia said. Ophelia's dress was rose gold, with wide billowing sleeves, her flower covered hat tipped at a jaunty angle. Her lip gloss matched her dress, shimmery and pink. She looked practically perfect. He looked at her, dwelling a little too long on the fact that she carried no baggage with her from the last few hellish years, a refreshing change. She was like an oasis in the middle of a desert, a desert he was still half lost in himself. Eleanor carried a little herself, but Ophelia had nothing. But that nothing still scared him, and deep down he still worried if he was too messed up to have a girl like Ophelia love him.

It was difficult to think too much about Ophelia or listen to her and Veyra's banter as he stood next to Eleanor, their hands hidden in the folds of her creamy pink skirt. He started thinking about if his hand was sweaty or if he was holding her hand tight enough and everything in between. He was surprised she wasn't making a big deal out of it either and flaunting it to the other girls like she did at the beginning of the Selection.

He kind of wanted to kiss her. The prospect of that scared the shit out of him, but as they stood there chatting, before long it was all he could think about. The four of them watched the next race on the program, then Ophelia and Veyra left to get snacks, leaving Wesley alone with Eleanor. He kept hold of her hand, because now it would be too awkward to acknowledge he was holding it.

"That was cool," he said ultra casual, speaking about the race. "I wish I was more like Ethan and knew more about horses."

"I think you can still appreciate it without knowing much," Eleanor said, "At least for me that's true."

"True true," Wesley said, now out of things to say to her. The more he thought about it, the more awkward he felt and the less he was unable to say.

Luckily she saved him. "So how have you been doing since, you know, everything? With the Berlins and the lockdown…"

He looked down at her, and couldn't fight his smile at seeing her looking up at him so sweetly.

"Oh, pretty good. Just another day in the life of a prince."

"That's good to hear."

Wesley nodded, cursing himself for being so stupid and not knowing what to say.

"How's Vera?" Eleanor asked, startling Wesley.

"What?"

"Vera. How is she doing? You always seem to spend a lot of time with her, making sure she's okay and everything. I figure I should ask you. She doesn't like me much."

"Oh." Wesley thought about how kissing Vera had only made things more complicated and decided to maybe not kiss Eleanor. "She's...okay, I guess."

It struck him she was jealous of how much time she spent with Vera, and that made him even more nervous. He changed his mind, maybe he should kiss her, so she would be less jealous.

Eleanor hummed in reply. He probably would have stood there mute holding her hand if she didn't let go first, acting like nothing had happened. She left with a quick word about going after the other two girls, leaving Wesley alone.

He ended up procuring another drink, and his next fantastic idea was to go after them. This wasn't even drunk Wesley, because the drinks weren't strong enough to hit him, this was just Wesley being stupid. He found them coming back from the clubhouse area that was reserved for them, flanked off by security. That didn't stop the other race-goers from gawking at them from where they could. Wesley gave them a cursory wave as he approached the three girls, eliciting some cheering from the onlookers. He spun around so he was walking the same way as them, also more Wesley just being dumb.

"Is the food good?" he asked. Eleanor met his eye then looked away with a polite sort of smile.

Veyra answered him with her mouth half full. "Just the usual palace people shit. I am quite ready for something like the common people eat."

"Are you implying I am not a common people?" Wesley played off her.

"Of course you're not!" Veyra grinned, so he knew she was just jesting with him. "You grew up eating this kind of stuff. I grew up eating fast food and unhealthy snacks."

"New York has every kind of food you could imagine," Ophelia added. "I kind of miss the variety."

"Damn, you guys are already tired of the five star meals we have here," he shook his head, teasing. But once again, he misspoke and made it awkward, and the girls got immediately quiet. "I mean...well, never mind."

"One of us will have to," Eleanor finished for him, from where she walked in front, aloof from the others. They headed up the stairs to the box, and Opehlia and Eleanor hurried a bit ahead. Veyra at least took pity on him, matching his dragging feet.

"You guys must think I'm an idiot," he confessed to her. Veyra was easy to say things to. "I promise I know the stakes of this….sometimes I just forget."

"It's okay," Veyra said. "I do too. Besides, your humor makes up for it."

"My bad humor you mean."

She shoved his shoulder gently. "No self-deprecating either. It's not a good look."

Wesley groaned. "I know, you're right. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I have to go to this prince thing in Allens next week, you know, the whole kissing babies thing. I'm just going to be representing the monarchy in the District, the old capital. It's nothing more than appearances for a gala."

"I've been there a few times," Veyra said, smiling like she did in her secret agent sort of way. "It's a cool city. Very historic. Like extremely."

"Yeah, well my Selection coordinators in all their wisdom thought I should ask one of you to accompany me. So I thought I would ask you."

He didn't tell her they specifically wanted Veyra to see how she would act in a very princessy setting, something she had been struggling with. She had agreed to give it her best shot, but like Vera, they both had a lot of work to do in that department. He liked to think it had something to do with their similar names.

"I'd love to." Veyra answered. "If you want me, that is. I'm not really good at that whole thing."

He shrugged. "Well you made it this far, so something tells me you're doing something right."

Veyra chuckled at his silliness. "Okay, good."

They were entering the box and Eleanor gave him such a frosty glance that he left Veyra to her friends.

He ended up sitting down next to Vera, his brain taking a second to process the similar names as it always did. She was still sitting in the back by herself, arms crossed.

"Sup," he said in greeting.

"Hey," she said back, lacking any kind of enthusiasm.

"What's up?"

She didn't look at him, just kept her eyes on the milling track below them as the next race got ready. They sat quietly next to each other, neither saying anything, and watched the race ensue. It ended up being a photo finish between the two front runners. Vera didn't speak until the winner was officially announced and paraded to the winner's circle.

"I shouldn't have got so mad at you the other night," she said, quietly, like it was hard to say. "It wasn't my place. I was just..scared. Like, really scared. And I took it out on you."

"Already forgotten," he told her. He moved his hand so it was resting next to hers on the armrest of the chair, touching. "You made some good points."

She leaned her head against her hand, and exhaled heavily.

"You're really having the time of your life right now, aren't you?" he joked.

Vera didn't reply, only exhaled out of her nose like it wasn't even funny enough for a real laugh.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," she said finally.

It was one of the last things he was expecting her to say, and it caught him off guard. Wesley looked at her, studying her face. She seemed embarrassed, and didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm not."

She looked up when he said it, and her lips parted just ever so slightly. It was hard to breathe for a second, his heart fluttered in his throat when she looked at him.

They might have kissed-no they definitely would have kissed, had the parade to post trumpet not gone off, announcing the most high-stakes race of the day. Then his heart really did jump, and Vera flinched next to him, jerking her hand away from his. For a second both of them were back in the north, back in the army, back in the war. Vera swore quietly, then covered her eyes with her hand in exasperation.

Wesley tried to breathe deeply, but his hand starting its stupid, stupid shaking thing and he could barely take a drink from his glass. He looked down to the lower boxes, seeing someone fairly close take a picture of the royal box. He glanced around at the various security details, knowing it was Nick's day off, but taking little comfort in it. The race began, and the cheering grew frenzied as the front runner horse stumbled in the first stretch.

All of the sudden it was almost too perfect, too easy, too simple. The way the fabric of Vera's dress shined a little too brightly in the afternoon sun, the way the horses down on the track moved a little too quickly, and the Illean flag snapping up on the top of the grandstand-none of it seemed real. Wesley swallowed hard, the lingering taste of alcohol on his breath grounding him in the moment. His hands felt cold, and the way his glass kept condensation in the heat wasn't helping. He switched it to the other hand, scrubbing his damp hand dry on his pants. They must look great up here, he thought, all smiles and perfection. The five Elite looked stunning, the happy and healthy restored royal family with their heirs, his brothers and their happy endings for their Selections on their arms. All too perfect.

Wesley ditched his drink. "I have to go," he said to Vera, already standing up and moving away from her.

He ended up leaving the royal box, shoving his sunglasses over his face and leaving Nick's replacement for the day scrambling after him. Even out in the common areas, no one bothered them as Wesley strode away. Once they left the track and were moving past the barns, there was hardly anyone to witness the massacre of his dress shoes in what were definitely horse frequented areas. He found a smoking area by the entrance with a less than clean bench to sit down. He had his lighter in his pocket, but no cigarettes due to his stupid resolutions, which made him more frustrated. His bodyguard tried to convince him to come back, but Wesly refused, so he took up position nearby, speaking in hushed tones into his earpiece. Wesley busied himself by flicking his lighter on and off, not a good substitute for smoking, he decided.

After sitting there for a while, he started to feel pretty silly for running away like he did. And then he got mad at himself for freaking out and panicking. He was supposed to be done with all that, he reminded himself. The little bit of progress he'd made all seemed so insignifiant now that all it took was one jump scare and he bolted like the race horses out of the gates. Wesley's emotions then turned to sad at the realization. He slumped forward, hunching his shoulders despondently. It was time for sad boy hours.

Sad boy hours went significantly down in quality when there was no one but his Nick's-Day-Off body guard around to pay attention to him. That realization also made him mad. He didn't want to return to the pressures of the royal box with the program almost done so he wandered around a bit, hands in his pockets, kicking at the gravel.

That was how Georgia found him, or more likely he found her. She was watching him with her forehead all crinkled up, eyebrows arched in judgement as his sad moseying about.

"Oh. Hey," he greeted her, shrugging one shoulder in acknowledgement, too lazy to take a hand out of his pockets to wave. "What's up?"

She paused before replying. "I think I should be the one asking you that."

"Oh you know. Day in the life of a prince." He liked that line.

Georgia looked skeptical. "I highly doubt that."

"What brings you out here?"

"It was getting to be a lot up there," she said. "I needed to step out for a minute."

"And here I thought you were looking for me," Wesley said. "Oh well."

"It's hard to tell what you're doing when you run out of places. You do that alot."

"Yeah," he lowered his head. He didn't have much of a reply to that. The conversation died then, and Georgia looked back towards the direction of the track like she was about to leave.

"How do you do it?" Wesley asked her quickly before she could. "How do you just keep going, like none of what happened happened?"
Georgia looked at him, and she looked kinda sad. "I think about it every day," she said tightly. "I don't try to pretend like it didn't. Like you do."
Wesley winced, knowing she was right. "It sounds easy. I just can't do it."

"It's not easy," she admitted, her voice sounding far away. "It's not a part of our lives we want to be reminded of. But if we don't remind ourselves, then none of it matters. Everything I did…" she trailed off. "It all happened."

"It wasn't your fault Cody didn't take the Convicting offer," he told her once again.

She lowered her head. "Yeah. I know."
"And when you betrayed them, you saved our butts. You did an amazing thing for the survival of Illea."

"I don't regret what I did. I don't regret it for a second." she said firmly. "It just doesn't feel like I thought it would."

"Yeah," he nodded, finding it easier to open up if she was too. "I get that. One of my best friends died in the war. I know it wasn't my fault, but most days I still try to blame myself. I can't do anything to bring him back, but I was there. Somehow I was involved, you know?"

She glanced at him, then her eyes darted away. When she spoke, her voice was loud. "Exactly."

He watched her as she looked out over the racetrack, how her fingers drummed on the skirt of her dress once, the gold of her nail polish catching his eye. He heard what he had just told her echoing in his ears, feeling foolish for a second. And then he heard how when she agreed, her voice was a little too loud.

"I'll see you later," she said, suddenly moving to leave.

"What part doesn't feel like you thought it would?" he found himself asking before he thought it all the way through.

She paused, fixing her hat before starting to walk away. "All of it, I guess."

"Hey wait," he called after her. He jogged a few steps to catch up. She stopped, turning to look at him. "I just want to say something," he said, only slightly winded. "I'm sorry. About Cody and General Caine. I know they refused to take the Convicting offer, but they shouldn't have died for it. We should have been more careful."

Georgia stepped one foot back, still intent on leaving it seemed. "You said it yourself. Cody might not be dead. But you're right. You shouldn't make deals with the Berlins."

They looked at each other for a moment.

Somehow, he knew.

Wesley had never fully trusted her, and all of the sudden, his alarm bells were going off. They only intensified when she tore her gaze away and hastily turned around.

"What do you know?" he called after her retreating figure, making her stop and turn her head half towards him. The afternoon breeze stirred the little pieces of hair around her face, swirling them around her eyes. Wesley took in that, just for a second.

"What are you talking about?" she said, her voice going away from him. "I don't know anything."

"You're lying." He didn't ask her, he already knew. It was suddenly so obvious to him that she knew something and what was more-she was cracking. "You know something. About Cody. About the Berlins. You do, don't you?"

Georgia looked at him, her jaw tight. But he didn't feel like he used to, like a mouse looking at a cat. There was still a small part of him that was scared of her, but less now. Mostly he was just scared of what he didn't know.

"I'm sorry-" she said stiffly, the words unnatural. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You could start by telling me the truth," Wesley took a step closer. "I don't know if I can trust you. I thought I could, I thought that when I helped you say goodbye to Cody that things were different with us." He came around her other side, standing in her way. The fading light behind her on the track lit her from behind. "That you were on our side. Now I'm not so sure."

"I am on your side," Georgia pushed back, and the words sounded rehearsed.

"Somehow I've never totally believed you."

"Believe what you want." Her eyes narrowed and she moved to brush past him but he stopped her, blocking her way.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"What do you know?" he countered, slowly saying each word. "That you're not telling me." She turned her head, but he already saw something surprising- tears misting in her eyes. "I want the truth, Georgia. Just this once."

She looked at him, then lowered her gaze.

"I already told you, I don't know anything."

"Stop lying,"

She raised her voice "I'm not!"

"Just tell me the truth!"

She glared at him, her eyes hard and her jaw clenched. Then she shoved him out of her way in his chest, and stepped forward into Wesley's space. "Cody's alive. The Berlins have him." Her voice was rough, the words forced out.

It was the last thing he expected her to say. He took a step back, not knowing what to do with this information.

"They contacted me, to tell me. They killed Caine for sure, but they took Cody." She made a noise that might have been a laugh. "I think they wanted me to tell you. Which was why I didn't." she all but spat this at him. "But now you know. And you can do something about it. Just like they want you to do."

"But if we know, we can-"

"You can't beat the Berlins, Wesley." She said his name like he was a child she was scolding. "You can try all you want to outmaneuver them, but trust me on this: they always win. Always."

He let her go this time as she pushed past him, the disgust in her tone enough to tell him to leave her be as she strode away.

He wandered around kicking more gravel and didn't return to the box, but had his guard take him to the cars. They would leave before everyone else did, for security reasons. Over and over again he rolled around the information Georgia had just told him in his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe the best thing would be not to do anything. Cody Trevelyne was a traitor, a rebel, but he was their problem. What bothered him the most was the Berlins contacting one of his Elite, though it wasn't like Fallon was living in his palace. But Fallon was different, she was his friend. All of it was starting to make his head hurt.

Today had been good and bad in so many different ways, none of which he felt like processing at the moment. Things with Vera and Veyra had gone well, he hadn't embarrassed himself with Ophelia, though with Eleanor and Georgia not so much. He laid down in the back seat of the car, choosing to ride back away from the girls. He fell asleep as the car returned to the palace, a nap being exactly what he needed.