Hi! Another chapter up my lovelies! We are approaching the end. Until tax season is over, its probably going to be about two weeks until another update. I'm working 60 hour weeks so my time is very scarce. Good news is that we are approaching the end of this story! :)

My father sat in a chair across from us, utter shock covering his face. Maxon was going to explain, but I insisted that I should do it. I'd been lying to my father, hiding something from someone who loved me unconditionally. If he was hearing the truth, he deserved to hear it from me.

I could not tell if he was angry or not. Really, he just looked stunned.

"How long?" he asked as he cleared his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking to the Prince," my father pointed out as his eyes brushed over me. I looked down at my knees, the rebuke hitting a little harder than I meant for it to. "How long have you been courting my daughter without my knowledge?"

"Since the last time you were at court, back in the winter. We had been writing each other, but my father saw an end to that." Maxon hesitated for just a moment. I reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He glanced at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. He faced my father, his expression fierce and determined. He didn't look like the young man he was in that moment. He looked like a king. "Lord Singer, I wanted to ask you for her hand, to do this properly, but doing so would have put both her and you in danger. What I did was probably not the best sense of propriety, but it was necessary. If anyone is to blame here, it is me. Do not hold any anger against your daughter. I did what I thought was right, what was in your daughter's best interests, and I am truly sorry for the price you had to pay for this. I do hope that you will give us your blessing."

My father stared at him, his expression unreadable. "I can't very well deny the crown prince. If what you say is true, then I understand. I probably would have done the same thing. I am glad that you two had enough sense to take care of things properly," he huffed. My father turned to me, his eyes softening slightly. "America, are you happy? Is this what you want?"

"Undoubtedly," I promised. I looked at Maxon, my smile growing. "Even if he wasn't the Prince, I'd still want to be his wife."

"Well, now I understand why you didn't want to rush things with the Count. Please tell me he is aware of this."

"Your daughter insisted," Maxon supplied. There was a distinct look of pride in my father's grin at learning that. "The only one who isn't in on this charade is the Ambers."

"You don't trust them?"

"Not entirely. Kriss seems sweet, but her father is too tightly wound up with mine. Part of the marriage negotiations between them has to do with his province. I always knew what my father wanted, which was the Ambers' money. A couple of days ago, I learned that there was another stipulation. Duke Amber's wants his territory widened. Columbia would take in about half of each of the surrounding territories. It would be massive."

"And it would cut some of the dissenting provinces in half. The rebels were right then," he muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

"Pardon, what do you mean?"

"The rebels came to me while I was home," my father admitted. Maxon tensed beside me.

"You spoke with the rebel leader?"

"No, it was a messenger. I thought it best to hear him out. I know what the King thinks, but I suspect that you have a more open mind. They don't want much, your highness."

"What do they want?" Maxon questioned.

"The crown has taxed them to the breaking point. After the floods last year and the war a few years before, the families and region haven't had any time to recover. Many of them are starving, barely able to make enough food to keep themselves fed. Fathers and brothers are dead. They don't want more fighting. There is no need for civil war. All they request is help. They want representation in court, assurance that their needs are voiced. They want to know that their leaders are making decisions with them in mind."

"My father will never agree to that."

"Which they are well aware of. Change will take time, and I believe they see that potential in you. The concern is about the future of this country, what will happen when you take your father's place."

"They want a better ruler than my father," Maxon muttered. My father nodded his head in response.

"They did mention a suggestion, something that might quiet the more volatile side of their faction. It might actually assist the two of you as well."

"Such as?"

"They wanted a show of goodwill, a sign that things are on the way for a better change. They might not have the representation they desire in court just yet, but perhaps they could have a Queen sympathetic to their wishes."

"They want me to marry one of their own?"

"No, just someone of lower station. Instead of a foreign princess, they want someone who understands the perils of the lower castes, who understand the need to help those that are hungry, those that are fighting to survive. We depended on the common folk to fight our wars. They deserve something in return. I know I raised my daughter to respect the privilege bestowed upon her. She knows hardship and has a kind heart. If she has fallen in love with you, I have no doubt that your heart is similar."

Maxon turned to look at me, although he was still speaking to my father. "I'd been trying to figure out a way to get him to accept this marriage. He wants control, but he fails to see that the best way to get it is to loosen his grip." He looked back to my father. "He won't like it. If the suggestion comes from you, he'll immediately dismiss it on grounds that you are simply trying to raise your station."

"Perhaps it will be better to have it come from them. Would your father consent to listening to an envoy? I won't have him killed if he comes here."

"Maybe, but there would have to be enough nobles to agree to it."

"I can handle that, your highness. Do…do you think the King will try to kill me again?"

Maxon rubbed his chin and sighed deeply. "I wouldn't put it past him. If an opportunity presents itself, he may try again. I think you are safe in the palace. They only way he could get to you is through poison, but that has never been his forte. Still, I'd be careful eating and drinking anything. Do you have someone who can test it for you, someone you trust?"

My father nodded his head. "What about my wife and other children?"

"My father is cruel, but I don't think he'd stoop so low to go after the rest of your family."

"Maybe we can send Mother, May, and Gerad to Kenna's home," I suggested. My father nodded his head.

"What about you though?"

"My father swears that as long as I follow his wishes, she won't be harmed. I think that as long as we keep that pretense, she will be safe. I promise you this, Lord Singer. I'd rather die than ever see a single hair harmed on her," Maxon declared. A timid grin tugged at my father's features.

"Good. I'll need to be covert about my presence here, correct?"

"My father has his spies. If he doesn't know yet, he will. I would just keep the pretense that America has taken ill."

"I'm ill?" I questioned.

"It's the easiest solution and explains Marlee's and your father's presence here at court."

I nodded my head. "I should return to my chambers then. I know you two have a lot to discuss." I rose, but right as I made it to the door, Maxon grabbed my arm gently. His finger's brushed my cheek, sending intense waves through me. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting my forehead.

"Stay safe, love."

I brushed my lips on his cheek. I walked out, shutting the door gently behind me. Aspen was waiting outside the door, concern on his features. He offered me his arm after making sure the coast was clear.

"How did it go?"

"Better than expected," I admitted. "I thought he would be furious with me."

"Do we have a plan on how to handle this?"

A few servants passed us, and I kept my head down. I needed to act the part of a sickly Lady. I leaned my head against his shoulder, close enough that my hushed words wouldn't be overheard.

"Yes. However, it is in their hands now. Our part stays the same. Now, all we can do is wait."

Over the next few days, my anxiety continued to build. I had been confined to my rooms, my only source of information coming from Marlee, my Father, and Aspen. Maxon had to keep his distance, but he passed letters through my visitors. It was strange and laughable. During our time apart, we were miles away from one another, and we could never get a letter through thanks to his father. Now, we were in the same household, and we were still confined through letters. At least this time they made it through.

My father had managed to convince enough of the nobles to request that the King hear the rebel's demands. The hope was that some of the opposing nobles would soften their resolve upon hearing what they wanted. With more on our side, the King would be all but overruled. While his opinion was the only one that mattered, his power laid in the hands of his subjects. If enough nobles dissented, then it would be unwise for him to go against the wishes of his most prominent citizens.

All evening, I had busied myself in my rooms. The rebel envoy was speaking with the nobles, and I waited anxiously for news of the meeting. All of our hopes were pinned so closely to what would happen. What would we do if the King reacted badly? Would our country go to war? The very thought made my stomach churn. I'd played the piano forte, read, and attempted some needlework. Nothing could distract me.

Marlee was unusually quiet. Carter was there with her father, along with Aspen and my own. As a knight, Carter would be at the forefront of a fight if it came to civil war. She was even more anxious and restless than I was. It felt so similar to waiting for the news of my father. Would this be my life from now on, constantly handling catastrophe after catastrophe and waiting to hear its resolution?

Finally, the door creaked open, and Carter stuck his head in. He looked weary.

"What news?" Marlee gushed.

"I'll explain everything, but right now I am famished," he sighed. He handed me a sealed paper, which I ripped open. It was Maxon's handwriting.

Come to Marlee and Carter's rooms. I'll be waiting.

"How about I order some tea and biscuits?" I offered. I opened the door, giving the orders to the maid. "You look dreadful, Carter. Shall I get your throw from your room?"

Carter's eyes lit up in knowing delight. He knew what I was doing. "I'd love it, America. Thank you."

"I can get that, Miss," the servant offered.

"No need," I explained with a kind smile. "After being unwell, I could use a short walk and some fresh air. Thank you for offering, through."

The servant smiled kindly and bowed before rushing off to take the order to the kitchens. I shut the door behind me and made my way to my cousin's rooms. They weren't too far from my own. I made it to the door, easing it open and disappearing inside before anyone else came down the corridor.

Maxon was pacing the length of the room, but he stopped as soon as I entered. It had been days since we had seen each other. I didn't like that distance. SO close but so far away.

"What did he say?" I asked anxiously.

Maxon didn't respond. He walked quickly towards me, taking me into his arms. He crushed me against him, and I responded by wrapped my own arms around him. I could feel his anxiety thrumming through his veins. Carter was hesitant to speak, which meant that maybe it was bad news. Maybe this was goodbye for us. Maxon pulled away slightly, his face unreadable.

"Maxon, please," I begged.

"He didn't say anything. He listened to the rebel envoy. A few of the nobles that were siding with him switched to ours. He listened to them argue for a while, about the pros and cons of a marriage with someone of lower station. Finally, he proclaimed that he needed time to think on it, and once he made a decision, he'd call another meeting. With that, he left to his study."

"What does that mean, Maxon?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "It could mean that he's considering it. It just seemed so unlike him. My Father is so opinionated, and he doesn't often hesitate. I tried to talk to him, but he dismissed me, said he wanted to be alone and think. Celeste is keeping an eye on him to see if he leaves his chambers. She's with her brother and my mother in the throne room."

My hands brushed his arms, wishing that I could stay right here for the rest of the night. "I don't have long," I admitted.

"I know. I'll come to your room tonight," he offered.

"Maxon, should we risk it?"

"Probably not," he sighed deeply. "Maybe I can convince Celeste to give hers up?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "I think she'd draw the line at that."

"Either that or she'd insist on using mine," he chortled. "If I got to spend the night with my wife, I think it'd be worth it. I'll find a way that we can spend tomorrow night together. How does that sound?"

"I'd like that," I murmured. His lips brushed mine, the kiss morphing into a passionate one. My hands ran through his hair, holding him to me. I wanted this to go on. I didn't want to leave this room. I wanted to be happy and at ease. It felt like torture, being this close and still being unable to do anything about it. He pulled away, touching his lips to mine softly once more.

"Go before I change my mind," he whispered gruffly.

"I love you," I reminded him.

"I know," he murmured. "And I you."

I backed away, opening the door and leaving the room before I lost the will to do so. I shut it behind me, a blush erupting on my cheeks. My finger brushed my lips, wishing that his taste would stay on there forever.

"Lady America?"

I looked up to see Duchess Ambers, who looked a little confused. The color in my cheeks left as quickly as it had come. I straightened myself, gathering my composure so that she wouldn't suspect anything.

"Duchess, how wonderful to see you again," I said as I inclined my head and bowed. I prayed that our voices carried enough that Maxon would know to not open the door.

"I heard you were ill," she stated as she looked me over. Did she notice how swollen my lips were, how flushed I had been upon leaving? "Are you feeling better?"

"I am feeling much better, thank you."

"Where you coming to see Sir and Lady Woodwork?"

"No, they are in my rooms. I just came to get a throw for Sir Woodwork. We were taking a late tea in my room."

"You didn't send a servant?" she questioned.

"I thought the walk would do me some good."

"Could you not find it?"

"Find what?"

"The throw?"

"Oh, the throw? No, I looked for it, but I couldn't find it."

"I can help you look," she offered as she took a step towards the door. "I find that when I am tired, I miss the things right in front of my nose."

"No, no that's quite all right," I explained as I took a step closer to the door. I couldn't let her go inside. "He can use one of mine. He didn't want to take them from me since I've been so chilled lately. It's no bother. Really, it was just an excuse for a walk."

She studied me for a moment before her expression softened. "If you insist. Don't push yourself too much. You still look pale," she pointed out kindly. "Count Leger has looked worried the past few days. It's easy to see how much he cares for you."

"He's a good man," I wagered. "I think I will head back. I'm feeling a little dizzy."

"Would you like me to join you?"

"I wouldn't want to indispose you. I'm fine, thank you."

"I hope to see you at breakfast in the morning. Feel better, my Lady."

The Duchess walked back down the hall, her footsteps echoing just as loud as my heart. As soon as she rounded the corner, I left out a heavy breath. I walked briskly back to my room before I was spotted again.

BOOM! I hope you enjoyed! America and Maxon almost got caught...any thoughts, theories?

Please leave a review! They mean the world to me and I'm thankful for each and every one.

Until next time (which I hope will be soon!)

-Holls