What gave you the inspiration for this book? - Honestly I've had the idea in my head since I was about halfway through As The One. I forget what exactly gave me the idea for it but I knew I wanted to incorporate Honduragua just because I always imagined it like Old San Juan. I love Old San Juan and wanted to write a story that takes place there but then it just morphed into this whole story. I think this plot just came from me wondering, "How crazy can I make all of this?"

WARNING: S*** GETS REAL IN THIS CHAPTER.

"It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do." - Jane Austen

America looked up at the gray sky as she walked into the history building on the university's campus. She had a meeting scheduled with a professor in American History to hopefully inform her more on the country's tumultuous ending with Gregory Illéa. She knocked on the wooden door tentatively, poking her head in to see if the professor was there.

"Uh, Your Majesty, please have a seat," he said, looking up from his notes and motioning to a desk.

She smiled and slid into one of the wooden desks. "Please, just call me Mrs. Schreave."

He laughed and looked back to the door. "Am I supposed to be expecting your husband's appearance or are you alone?"

"I'm quite alone but I believe that being alone would be best. I'm ready for answers and I don't think they're answers that Maxon will give to me."

He walked over to his desk and lifted two coffee mugs. He set one on her desk in front of her as he turned a desk to face her so he could talk to her face-to-face. He played with the rim of his mug and asked easily, "What do you need to know?"

"How do I start a rebellion?" she asked him, getting right down to it.

He seemed taken aback by the blunt question. "What do you mean? I'm a history professor, not a diabolical mastermind."

She narrowed her gaze on him and pushed the coffee mug away from her, closer to the edge of the desk. "I have trouble believing that. You see, my husband left me a few weeks ago and I've spent that time doing some research in our library back at the palace. Books and books of research on some rather famous rebellions in Illéa, including the help of a computer. It seems you've got some pretty dark secrets hiding behind your history professor persona, correct?"

He sighed and sat up straighter. She was satisfied to see that she'd grabbed his attention. "Okay America, you have my attention," he confirmed. "What is it you want?"

"I've already asked you. I want to know how to start a rebellion. I figured the very man whose grandfather tried to overthrow Gregory Illéa would have a pretty good idea of how to do so." She pulled a copy of one of the pages in Gregory's diary and placed it on his desk. "George Capulet was your grandfather, correct?"

He looked at her accusingly but she didn't back down. "How did you find me?"

"I have connections, Dr. Feierman. You can change your name and your entire identity but you can't hide from me." She inched her coffee mug even closer to the edge of the desk. Rain started to patter against the windows outside.

"I'm not my grandfather," he said in a quiet voice. "I know nothing about how to start a rebellion." He looked at her seriously but she wasn't fooled one bit.

She leaned forward, letting her gaze grow cold. "What is your name doing in one of Gregory's last journals then? Right there, on that paper in front of you. 'And to George Capulet, I must commend him for setting a precedent in his family of naming all of his male heirs the same name. Now I am able to easily track George Capulet III's movements about the country. Regrettably, I am growing old and gallivanting across Illéa no longer suits me as I grow old. I still suffer from paranoia due to George Capulet's attempted assassination and frequently my wife finds me not in our bed at night but in my study next door. I pray that my heirs may be so fortunate as to be able to trace George Capulet III and not to lose sight of him. I can tell that despite him having just four years in age, he will possess his grandfather's talent for plotting and scheming, as well as evasion for I still have not found George Capulet and I am quite convinced now, that he must be dead.' Where was your grandfather all those years?" she asked.

"He died in Carolina actually. A few guards found him and executed him quite publicly and humiliatingly," the doctor said matter-of-factly.

America nodded. "So…now do you want to tell me how I can start a rebellion?"

"You can't just start a rebellion. It takes planning, forethought, strategizing. You need men, ammo, fighters, supporters, food in case your supplies are cut off, etc. You can't just start a rebellion," he repeated.

"I've thought of all of that and I have everything I'll be needing, except for a plan. I was hoping you could help me."

He shook his head. "I won't."

"I'll make you," she threatened. She then pulled a picture out of her purse and slid it toward him, her knuckles brushing against the mug sitting precariously on the edge of her desk. "This is your granddaughter, right? How old is she, eight, nine-years-old?"

"Seven," he gulped out.

She nodded. "Get a good look at this picture because you're not going to see her again unless you help me."

"I'd rather die than help you."

Seconds later she had her gun pulled out and aimed at his heart. "I can arrange that but I'm going to kill you either way so you may as well tell me."

He stared at the mouth of the gun, as if he was unsure about her competence in killing someone. After several moments, he submitted, "Fine. I can't give you everything you need because I do not know all of how my grandfather tried to take over the country but I can tell you that Maxon is the key. There are rumors floating around that he is not who he says is, who everyone thinks he is. He's been elusive lately and those who used to believe him dead are starting to question. With the disappearance of your son and you suddenly stepping down, the citizens are growing wary of the government."

"That's all?" she asked, knowing that there was more.

He sighed and looked down, a face full of regret and pity turning away from her. "There is an organization, called the Freemasons. Look there…they know everything. My grandfather and father were active members. They got help from them in their plots for rebellion. One of my students, Sawyer Chollier is a member. He'll tell you what you need to know."

America nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Capulet. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He looked at her miserably. "Please, I won't tell anyone of your plans. Let me go."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so." As she pulled the trigger, she knocked her mug to the floor, the crash of the ceramic covering the bang from her gun. She placed the gun on his desk, in his hand, and took his other mug and hid it in the corner of the room.

She ran out of the building, slowing to a walk once she was outside so she didn't attract too much attention.

So, yeah. Pretty crazy right? You guys have been awesome reviewing lately, but I'm running out of questions to answer! Send me more please!