A/N

fanficforever: Maybe this chapter will help clear things up. :)

ILOVEFANFICS230: All good questions—it will probably resolve within the next 10 chapters. :) Stavros takes the Queen to the hospital, but she is already gone. :(

The Devil Wears Westwood: The last 36 hours at the palace have been a little crazy, you're right. Hopefully this chapter clears some things up. We're close to the end, now. :)

DancingReader: I know! Thanks for reading. :)

Molly: Thank you so much for continuing to read. I really appreciate the feedback! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too. :)

Totalbooknerd 13: The only answer to "Why?" Is "Because" or "Why not?"...Or so I've heard. Thanks for reading! :)

Strike OOO: Thank you so much. Hopefully this chapter clears some things up. :)

Coralsea25: Thank you so much. I hope you like this chapter! :)

prnamber3909: She's handy to have around, isn't she?

sushi: Didasko was their education advisor, until he was removed. The official reason was they went another direction. The unofficial reason is he has an unrequited love for America, and had Maxon convinced that he and America were having an affair. He is working for the Loyalists. Evan is May's fiancé, who we have only heard about, not actually met in the story.

I am so appreciative of the support, everyone. Thanks so much for reading, and if you feel like it, reviewing. :) We only have about 10 more chapters left. I hope you are enjoying reading as much as I am enjoying writing! -SJ :)

I gently close my study door, and cue up the video again. I mute the sound, because it already plays in my head. I don't need to hear the screams through the speakers of the television, too. Marlee mentioned "There is always something that happens immediately before the action" when Everett and Abrielle were fighting. And that's what we have been so focused on with the footage. The action. We hadn't thought of looking for the signal that the rebels responded to before starting the attack.

As the scene opens, I begin scanning the video. But I am so distracted by the action on the screen; it is hard to focus anywhere but on the dais. When the terror begins, it is impossible to do anything else. I decide that at this point, I won't watch Celeste's execution repeatedly. I go to my desk and grab paper and tape, and physically cover the half of the television screen where the main event is supposed to take place. My eyes are instantly drawn, then, to King Clarkson, sitting off to the side. He sits especially straight and there is something familiar about that stance that I can't quite place. A guard approaches him, and Clarkson whispers something to him as the guard nods and walks away. A second guard passes by without interaction. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Guards spoke to Clarkson all the time. The shooting begins and I resolutely return to the beginning of the video.

As I watch again, I notice something familiar about the walk of the second guard that comes soon after the first that speaks to Clarkson. I pause the video, and during the still moment, clearly see a much younger version of Bariel's husband, Alec, come near. The birthmark under his ear is evident in the profile shot, and I missed that detail the last time through. I know for sure he was not in the palace guard while I was in the Selection. Natural-born Twos did not serve. They spare each other a glance, and soon after the shooting begins.

Clarkson pulls at the collar of his shirt, and stands as panic ensues. Amberly is caught in crossfire, and he barely turns as she falls at his feet. He pulls at the collar of his shirt again as he reaches inside his vest pocket. Finally, the familiarity of the gesture registers. I've seen Maxon and Aspen make the same move hundreds if not thousands of times. The king is wearing body armor. Which means the king was not surprised the attack was coming. No wonder Stavros aimed directly for the head.

The third time through, I move frame by frame as the guards approach the king, sensing the start of the attack had something to do with those two interactions. That's when I see it: King Clarkson tugs his ear. It's a subtle movement, and if I hadn't done it so many times myself I wouldn't have noticed. The choice of signal was purposeful, I had no doubt. I rewind and take the paper off the screen, with my focus still on my long-dead father-in-law. Two guards pass him closely, as they find their places around the perimeter, Alec now-Mayor of Sota, nods slightly. The first guard steps forward and shoots Celeste. Alec heads toward the dais, Aspen tackles my chair, and Maxon falls. But it is obvious Alec's orders were to eliminate us. "I got him," Alec shouted. "Find the king!" And I know, with utmost and complete certainty, Alec didn't mean to kill the king. He meant to report Maxon's demise back to the one who ordered it. King Clarkson was the link between the Southern rebels and the Loyalists. Suddenly, so many things made sense: how the palace was so accessible; how no one investigated the missing guards during the Selection; how guards had standing orders to take the rebels alive; how the Southern rebels found their funding. And if the king was wearing body armor, and the prince wasn't, Clarkson ordered the death of his only son. Stavros was protecting us, and always had.

I watch the footage completely through three more times. Each viewing confirms my suspicions. I am on my feet again and in the corridor, trying to keep from sprinting to Maxon's study.

As I round the corner I hear Kota's voice, and I slow my pace, finally waiting in the doorway. "When I was completing a sculpture for the Alexander's of Clermont, they couldn't say anything positive about the monarchy. Without prompting, they would rake your reign over the coals. In fact, I think I heard them mention they would do anything to see you out of power. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now?"

Maxon replies, "And we backed them for a seat in Parliament. Looks like we will have to withdraw that offer."

"Maxon, I hate to interrupt, but I need to speak with you alone." I can barely stand still. He looks at me quizzically, and my eyes tell him how urgent the matter is. He stands just as Georgia enters the room.

All eyes turn to her as she says, "I am sorry to barge in. But we are trying to figure out who's carrying. We have some guns missing, and we can't afford to be sloppy right now." Everyone but Kota confirms their weapon. "Okay, Kota, where's yours?" she asks.

"What are you talking about? I don't have a gun."

Georgia sighs, "I saw you in the safe room when America was taken. You had your weapon drawn. So where is it?"

"Oh, that's not my weapon. I picked it up on the way to the safe room. Luckily, I didn't attempt to use it," Kota explains, looking from Maxon to me, and motions weakly with his right hand.

"It's not that I don't believe you, Kota, but as a matter of security, I have to corroborate your story. I have to frisk you. This should only take a second."

Kota begins to protest, "I don't think this is necessary."

Aspen shrugs, "Just go ahead. It'll be easier to do it than to fight it, Kota. Then we can get back to the meeting."

Kota's features reflect his horror as he stands and submits. Georgia tosses the contents of his pockets on the conference table in front of him. She names them as she goes, "Wallet. Pens. Key ring."

As the key ring hits the wood, the people around the table go completely silent. Maxon pales as he recognizes the fob, "Where did you get these?" He picks them off the table, and turns his full attention to Kota.

Before Kota has a chance to respond, I blurt out, "Stavros was protecting you, Maxon. Your father was the connection between the Southern Rebels and the Loyalists. The king planned the attack that day, and you were one of the targets. It's all on the disc. I've been watching all morning. Stavros has always been on your side."

Maxon blinks once, and turns his full attention back to Kota. Kota scoots back in his chair. "Where did you get these keys?"

When Kota doesn't answer a second time, Maxon crosses the table and grabs him by the neck, snarling, "We are putting all this uncertainty to rest. Now." Kota's strangled cry can be heard in the hallway as Maxon drags him downstairs. Aspen moves to follow, and I put a hand on his arm, and subtly shake my head. I know where they're going.

Despite their head start, Aspen and I arrive at the full security detention center only a minute or two behind Maxon and Kota. We catch up to them in the corridor as Kota does everything he can to break Maxon's grip on him. "Sister," Kota begs me. "I can explain." Kota's face is swollen, and blood seeps from his nose.

Maxon stops, and without turning around barks at Aspen, "Where's Bariel, Commander Leger?"

"The first questioning room, Your Majesty."

Maxon continues down the hallway with the Aspen and me following him, wordlessly. I don't feel any relief being right about Kota. When Maxon reaches the right room, he pauses. In one violent motion, he pins Kota face-first to the wall and holds him there, "Don't move." He unlocks the door with his other hand, and deposits Kota into a chair.

Bariel stands as we enter. She looks a little worse for the wear. Her long white-blonde hair is pulled into a knot on the top of her head, and her clothes are rumpled like she has been sleeping in them. She probably has. "You cannot keep me here without cause. I demand to talk to my husband!"

Maxon doesn't even look at her when he growls, "Enough. You will sit." For the first time, I can see Maxon as Clarkson's son. "You will both tell us everything. Now."

They protest. "I don't know what you're talking about," Bariel insists. "Your men picked me up at the airport as I was leaving for France. Alec is probably worried sick."

"Please, just let me explain," whines Kota.

"Commander Leger."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aspen replies and moves to stand beside Maxon.

"I have tired of this. I'm sure these two are familiar with where my father kept the bodies. We're getting answers today. By any means necessary."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Maxon holds out his arm to me, "Come." I allow him to usher me out into the hallway, as Aspen pulls the door shut.