A/N

jthornestudent: Thanks for continuing to read and review. Glad you like it! :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks, it was fun to write! Glad you're enjoying it. Can't wait for your next update, either. :)

Totalbooknerd13: I'm happy it made you laugh! I could just see the look on Elise's face when she notices America's hands are green. Thanks for reading! :)

I collapse into bed, the worry and the wear finally getting to me. Maxon is still in meetings, but as I almost dozed off at the conference table, I excused myself to check on the children. He knew that I would not be back. And I spent the rest of my evening showing my little loves that they are so important to me. We played game after game and read story after story. When the younger children were tucked in bed, Calix and I had a long discussion. I know he didn't appreciate being left out of the tour, but I promised that he would have his turn. He remembers that there is danger in being the Crown Prince, but sometimes he has to be reminded. If there is some way to give him more responsibility without placing a target on his back, I will find it. He is so good so much of the time, diligently working to make us proud. But Abrielle is still very green, and he put himself in a vulnerable position because no one knew where he was for sure this morning.

My thoughts turn to the events of this afternoon. Elise is placated, confident that we are not operating an unauthorized camp in New Asia. The base is an old one that we vacated during the peace agreements; and it is only by chance that Elise's husband noticed activity there. Now that she is a part of New Asia's delegation, she convinced them to let her come to us under the guise of a friendly visit. I snort to myself, so friendly she was ready to rake my eyes out with her hands. But we will work together, because now we know that Illea is not the only target, we need each other more than ever.

I bury my face in my pillow and let the tears come—I don't want anyone to see me cry, but I have put it off for too long. The events of the last few months wash over me, and wave after wave of terror and anguish flow out. I have been pushing the anxieties and worry aside trying to be strong for everyone, including Maxon. Including my family. The guilt of bringing them out of the frying pan and directly into the fire is the most difficult to bear. I am no longer convinced they will be safe in the palace—only safer. Marginally. Possibly. And that is not enough for me. My shoulders shake, and my pillow is soon soaked. Emptiness spreads throughout my body. I am spent. Hollow. But the tears still trickle through my eyelashes, down my cheeks, and over my chin. I curl myself tighter around my pillow, and let myself drop off to sleep.

"America, love. Wake up. America," Maxon is shaking my shoulder and I start up. The sheets are twisted around my legs and the down comforter is on the floor. I'm sure my wild hair and tear-streaked face add to the picture. He's still dressed, standing over my side of the bed sans coat and tie. Sometimes, I wonder why he even wears them if he is just planning to discard them halfway through a meeting. "Are you all right?"

I nod quietly, still disoriented, trying to untangle myself from the bedclothes. I'm sticky with sweat and the salt tracks of my tears.

He embraces me gently, "You were dreaming again. Do you remember?"

"No, thankfully." I am trying to keep my tone light, but my disheveled appearance has made Maxon uneasy. I manage a weak smile. "I'm guessing it wasn't a happy one?"

"I could hear you from the hallway door." He sits beside me on the bed and I fold myself against his side. His arms tighten around me. "I am sorry, love."

His tone alerts me that he is blaming himself for my fear. "Maxon, there is no conceivable way that this is your fault." My tone isn't harsh, just emphatic.

Sadness reflects in his eyes, "And yet I still blame myself." He kisses my forehead, leans his cheek against my hair.

I reach a hand up to his face, intending to brush his hair from his forehead. Our eyes meet, and soon so do our lips. We pour out every inch of frustration, doubt, worry. As he leans me back into our pillows, we are left with an urgent need for each other.

Weak light is making its way through the blinds on the balcony door as I open my eyes. We're still wrapped in each other, and Maxon's breathing is deep and even. I feel the old scars along his back, wincing at the knowledge that many are there because of me. I pull the comforter up over us, and hold him tighter as I close my eyes. This is the best sleep either of us has had in a while, and I can't bear to wake him.

Mary's entrance and exit is virtually silent, but with the smell of breakfast in the room, Maxon begins to stir. His eyes are soon alert, and a smile lightens his face as he kisses me. "Good morning, love."

"It is morning, isn't it? It came too soon again."

After a quick squeeze and a lingering kiss, he pushes himself upright, "It always comes at the beginning of every day." His whole face seems lighter this morning, and even his eyes are reflecting his ease.

I pretend to pout, but accept that it is truly time to get up. We pull on robes and seat ourselves at the table. Usually I am ready to eat by this time every morning, but not today. The stress and pressure of the last few days is getting to me, and I take only tea and toast.

Maxon raises an eyebrow, "You're not hungry?"

The behavior is definitely not in character for me, but I respond, "These last few days have been rough ones. A hot cup of tea and Cook's homemade bread with butter is all I really want this morning."

"Love, are you…" He suggests excitedly, letting the sentence hang in the air but running his eyes over my body and coming to rest at my midsection.

I don't let him finish the thought, "Absolutely not."

He deflates a little, and I'm sad to tell him the answer. His love for his children only expands with each addition. But what a horrific thought! A pregnancy now would be more than inconvenient, it could be dangerous. I reach for his hand, "I'm not closing the door on another, Maxon. You know that. It's just not what is happening right now," I assure him. "The tension is making it hard for even me to eat."

Maxon's smiles and squeezes my hand back.

He spends the rest of breakfast updating me on the information I missed last evening. Aspen's team made it to Sota without incident, and they are managing to keep a low profile. I share about the early birthday party we'll have for Calix and Abrielle. Thankfully, they decided that they just want close friends and family to come and have dinner and cake. Besides having all the palace school children in attendance, the only request they made is for Nicoletta to come. A quick phone call to her last night confirmed she would attend. Hard to believe that the Princess of Italy would come to a children's birthday party, but apparently, mine can be convincing.

I allow myself to hope that it's a good omen. Things will turn around for the better.

Calix smiles as he hands me a piece of double chocolate fudge cake. "For you, Mama. Do you want one Auntie Nic? Mr. Stavros?"

"No thank you, Prince Calix," Stavros answers formally. I hadn't noticed him slip over to Maxon's side. Maxon nods once and looks at me apologetically, but follows Stavros from the room. I focus all my attention on Calix. He knows our work legitimately gets in the way sometimes, but he tends to take it in stride. He barely blinks when his father leaves. He is so used to this.

"Thanks, sweetheart." I can't believe he's nine. Nine and passing around pieces of cake to his guests instead of devouring one himself. I smile at the nickname my kids saddled Nicoletta with, but she has always been a good sport when it comes to them.

"Of course, Cal! I dare you to stop me from having one," Nicoletta teases. She turns to me, "I will snap him up; I swear America. As soon as he is of age. No Selection for this one. He's mine." Cal turns bright red and hurries away to join his friends, allowing Abrielle and the little boys to join him. But leaving Nicoletta to fend for herself, cake-wise. I laugh and slide her my piece, taking the opportunity to look around the room. Astra is talking with Ethan, Georgia and August's son, in a far corner. I wonder if Kenna and James mind how close they are sitting. Their blonde heads are bent toward each other. Almost touching, but not quite. Over the last couple of weeks, they have spent considerable time together. Kenna and James, Mom, Lucy and Aspen, Marlee and Carter, May and Evan all sit around the table, sipping their coffee, enjoying the cake and conversation. The children and Kota are on the other side of the room from us, devising a game. It looks like hide-and-seek might be on the docket. Hide-and-seek in the palace is always an interesting game. The last time they played, Abrielle fell asleep under a shelf in the library. The palace guard spent two gut-wrenching hours looking for her and we quickly decreed the game reserved for special occasions only. The oddest thing that they do in their variation of the game is to send "IT" out of the home base room. I think a history of peeking is to blame.

Kota's voice floats to me across the room. "Okay, if no one else wants to do it, I'll be 'IT' first." Kota leaves the ballroom to go to the designated counting spot. I watch the discussion that ensues. The children are working out their hiding spots so that Kota will have to be "IT" for most of the evening. A few minutes later, Calix follows him out, and I am slightly amused at the sight. I notice Aspen nod quickly at the guards at the ballroom door. They'll keep a close eye. Over the last few weeks, Kota has been careful not to cross my path. When I have seen him it has been in typical "uncle" moments: pushing Abrielle on her swing, building block towers for the little boys to knock down, walking Calix to the stables. My blood doesn't immediately boil when I see him pensively wandering the palace anymore. I'd still prefer him to leave, but Mom is still glowing. Even Kenna doesn't waste her time glaring at him. Since his doctor has no preference as to where he recovers, he will be a long term guest.

I turn back to Nicoletta, and hear two distinct sounds echo down the hall. I cock my head, confused, only understanding as Aspen, Carter, and August launch themselves out of their chairs and toward the ballroom door. I'm on my feet in seconds, running full out to trigger the passage way door. "Safe room." That phrase is all it takes for the rest of my family and friends to scoop children up with them as they head to the relative safety deep within the palace. Ethan and Astra have the little boys and Abrielle and are halfway down the stairs before most of the rest of the room is in motion. The alarm begins to ring. I stand outside the door, urging everyone down the stairs. Paige reaches me and pushes me across the threshold, I catch myself on the railing to keep from tumbling down the first flight. "Go. There is good reason you are supposed to be first down the stairs." I listen to her, despite my better judgment. She pulls the door closed, and I hear her feet moving rapidly in the opposite direction.

I put my brave face on as I walk into the concrete room. Lucy is huddled shaking in the corner, arms around her girls. They look so much like Aspen's sisters I always do a double-take. All the children look a little bewildered, as their parents who work in the palace arrive and are reunited with relief. Nicoletta talks quietly with my immediate family. Astra and Ethan are helping to settle everyone in for the wait. Mom and May have three out of four of my children in their laps. I scan the room. No Calix.

My heart is in my stomach as I look again and confirm the same answer. He's not here. Georgia and I come to the conclusion at the same time. An uncharacteristic moment of indecision crosses her face. I shake my head slightly at her. I can't spare her, and I can't have her open the doors with all these people to keep safe. I freeze my serious expression. I can't think about it now. I absolutely will NOT think about it now.

I make my way around to each group of people. All the other children from the party are safe, and their parents are, too. I go through the checklist of the missing. Stavros and Maxon are likely together on the third floor. Aspen and Carter know the palace better than I do. I hope Paige has found Calix and Kota. Marlee goes to Lucy and puts her arms around her shoulders as they whisper together. Everett and Ben sit silently beside her. Elena and Jimmy crowd Kenna and James, but their parents don't seem to mind. Kenna's eyes follow me intently. I can't stand the empathy I read in her face and turn away.

He's fine. He's fine. He has to be fine. I realize I am twisting my skirt of my dress in my fist, and consciously make myself stop. I straighten my back and square my shoulders.

I hear footsteps running down the stair approaching the entry way in the back of the room. I slip my hand to my holster as Georgia unsteadily draws and trains her weapon on the door. She relaxes as we hear the correct tones from the security key pad, and Kota and Calix stumble into the room. I exhale a deep breath, and open my arms to my son.