A/N- Finally finished the chapter! Sorry it took so long, it was way easier to write when I didn't have any friends or worked lmao. I'm trying to find some balance in my life atm so that I can finally finish this story. I'll probably not upload for a few weeks for this one, just because I need to get out a few chapters for Eye of the Storm, I haven't updated that one since Christmas Eve lol. But hope you all have a great week, and I'll see you in chapter 34! Bethany x

Chapter 33

Tris POV- the morning of the ball,

The first thing I can even think about is the pounding in my head. Incessant, blinding pressure fills my skull, white light scorching my body. And there's this infuriating beeping, a never ending siren filling my thoughts.

I squeeze my closed eyes tighter, trying to diffuse the burning. The pathetic release does nothing but point fingers at how heavy the rest of my body feels, the constant ache, the fire in my chest.

I peel my eyes open with more effort than I've ever put into anything, the pain intensifying as I do. I rip off the mask covering my face, and take in a hard breath.

Grasping the softness under me, my hands form fists with the delicate fabric between my skin.

My vision is blotchy, with dark shadows coming and going. But the sharp whiteness has retreated, and I finally look around.

There's a chest in front of me, draws pulled out haphazardly, ready to topple over.

The room's bleak, no one having been here long enough to bring life to it.

I push myself up, my dauntless bed holding steady under my shaking arms. My sleeve catches on something, and when I look down I'm greeted with a cannula. I follow the line, until I find a small, but loud machine, and a bag full of clear liquid hanging above it.

What am I doing here?

"Tris?"

My head snaps to the other side of the room. I regret it immediately, my pounding migraine laughing at me.

Sitting in front of the wall of windows, is Uriah. His sleepy eyes widen as he wakes up, and my confusion hits the roof.

And something's in my throat, and I think I'm about to choke. A wet coughing fit begins, lasting what feels like years. Tears spill out of my eyes, the throbbing in my head getting so intense that my vision starts to black out.

There's a hand on my back, a gentle thud, over and over, until I get the lump dislodged.

My wet hand falls into my lap, and a wave of frustration drowns me. The tears that came with the intensity of the jarring coughing, turns into an overload of emotions. The tears fall and fall, and I still can't remember anything.

I hardly hear Uriah in the background, my mind at war with the frantic thoughts spilling through my head, and trying to figure out a way to make the bricks stop hitting.

And then there's this horrid pressure on my arm, suffocating, overpowering-

My provoked hand scratches at my skin, feeling a thick, plastic sleeve. I yank at it carelessly, until it rips off.

And then the pressure in my head is the last thing on my mind, my stomach flipping over. I scurry out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor.

But my balance is off, and my arm is hitting the wall. And there's still something on me. I almost scream with pent up irritation, and I rip whatever it is that is keeping me from getting to the bathroom.

When I'm free, I feel Uriah's quick hands on me. I harshly push them off, the thought of anything touching me at the moment enough to bring on a melt down. I move out of the room quickly, each foot step knocking around my brain, each movement a tidal wave drowning me.

I hit the toilet with a thud, and retch and retch. Nothing but blinding pain comes out, but I can't stop my stomach from wanting to empty itself.

This time, I hardly feel Uri's hand on my back, his other pulling my hair out of the way.

There's a small stab on the back of my neck, but the pain pales in comparison to the rest of my deafening burning.

When my stomach finishes trying to flip itself inside out, I fall against the cold tile. My back hits the wall, and I tense up, waiting for the pressure to shoot from my back and into my head.

But it's only a dull ache now, and I wonder if I had anything to do with it?

My heavy eyes stare at the bottom of the sink, a few feet in front of me. "You should start feeling better any second, Tris," a familiar, warm voice says. And it's not Uriah's.

My eyes slowly move to him, and even though it was never going to be Tobias, my heart still drops when I look into Robert's comforting brown eyes.

"Where is he?" I croak out.

Robert looks behind him, and my gaze follows. In the doorway stands the boys. Eric, Zeke and Uri.

My blurry eyes can't focus on them for long. The harder I try to put their faces into perspective, the hotter they burn.

"Do you not remember?" I hear Uriah ask.

I want to lash out, scream at him that if I knew where Tobias was, then I wouldn't be asking. But I've never felt so exhausted. So instead I give one shake of my head.

"We should probably get you back to bed-"

"No-" I cut Robert off, my harsh attention fully on him, "just tell me where he is." He'd be here, here with me if he was able. Fear creeps up my spine, sending a shiver through my bones. He'd be here.

"What was the last thing you remember?"

I'm shaking my head, my brain the calm before the storm. "I- you're putting me on the spot-"

"It's alright," Robert reassures. His large eyes fill with sympathy, and I watch to scratch it out. "We'll fill you in, maybe we just need to use the key to unlock the door."

I breathe a small sigh of relief, nodding gently. He holds out his hands, and I take them.

…

"And then we brought you back here, to try and figure out our next steps."

Zeke finishes, and thank god that it's all making sense. With my pain at a minimum, I'm actually able to think. Scarlet is Celia, the Prince's supposedly dead great grandmother. We have the same powers- share the same powers. I'm draining her, by using my own? And that list, that piece of paper my mother gave to Natalie- those dead Princesses must have also had these powers. She must have been getting rid of them. One by one.

We're sitting in the living room, Robert next to me, Uriah and Zeke leaning against the coffee table in front, and Eric pacing to the right.

"Now we've got her up to speed-" Eric begins, moving behind the coffee table, "we need to figure out what to do about Arthur- about Celia."

My eyes catch Uriah's, then Zeke's. I had come to the conclusion before I split away from the three of them those few days ago, that Eric didn't know much of anything Arthur was planning. But I never knew if the boys had come to the same conclusion.

"He seemed pretty confused by the majority of our questions," Zeke shrugs.

Uriah laughs, "yeah, there's no way an Erudite Prince would let the chance to gloat in our faces pass, so I think he's cool."

I look up to Eric, his hair back to its usual black. I had glanced at my own momentarily as it brushed past my face on the way to the living room. Something about looking like myself again took some weird weight off of my shoulders.

Eric, having stopped moving, looks at the three of us in disgust, "could you lot stop talking about me like I'm not standing right in front of you?"

"Yeah, guys," I agree, shaking my head, "leave him be."

Uriah's eyes widen, and I feel my mouth pulling up, "excuse me-"

"Right, you two stop now," Zeke says, standing, "Eric's right. We need to make a plan."

I nod, knowing what my first thought is going to be, "we need to get Four and our friends out of Celia and Arthur's grasp-"

"We?" Robert butts in. My brows pull together as my head turns to him. His are raised, like I'm forgetting something.

"If you don't want to be part of this, Rob, that's fine-"

He shakes his head, "It's not me that's got the fucking bends, Tris. You've got compression sickness, have you not been wondering why you've been coughing up blood? Memory loss? A constant migraine? That jab I gave you hasn't healed you, and by the looks of things you haven't healed yourself either. There's no way you can leave here without some pretty intense medical intervention."

I glance at the other boys, confused. I feel fine- I haven't coughed up blood in like 10 minutes? "Pretty sure I've had medical attention? There was definitely some kind of fluid going in me- and an oxygen mask-"

"You had max four hours of fluids, Tris. That's 1 litre. And that oxygen mask? That needs to stay on for days, not hours-"

"God, Erudite, give it a rest." I shoot back, "I'll deal with whatever's going on with me after this is all finished. For now I need to get everyone out of harm's way-"

"By putting yourself in it?" My eyes thin, and I'm getting up. I walk over to the door, ignoring the fatigue begging me to change directions.

"Where are you going?" He asks harshly, and I don't give him the time of day to turn around.

"I'm calling a meeting."

…

I swallow the lump in my throat. It does nothing, stuck in my airways. Turning, I cough into my sleeve. Tobias's sleeve. Someone must have dressed me in one of his black hoodies when we got here a few hours ago. It's still early morning- just coming up to 5am. And there's so much to do before the ball this evening.

Anxiousness squeezes me until I find it hard to pull in a breath. I've tried telling myself he's going to be fine, that he can look after himself. But unlike Christina and Marlene's situation, he's held hostage by a woman just like me.

Those hand prints, embedded into his skin with the lick of flames, haunt my every waking moment. He's strong, powerful- Celia is no doubt going to try to subdue him again.

I don't bother trying to push the thoughts away, this time they propel me to finish this.

When I turn my head back around, I find the whole of the room staring back. Concern fills every corner, and my fists clench. This would all go a lot more smoothly if they could all mind their own business.

I move my blood stained arms behind my back, clasping them harshly. Hanna's caught stare lifts to my own. I move my head slightly, signalling a small no.

My attention moves elsewhere, waiting for a response to my last statement.

The room is empty, compared to the last time I was here. Only a handful of people remain. Uriah and Zeke sit next on my sides, with Eric and Robert next to them.

And at the top sits Max, Amar, George, Hanna and Harrison. It's been so long since I've seen most of them, that I'm surprised I still remember their names. I take a seat, as I wait for my response.

"You think Arthur's going to make a scene at the ball?"

I look over to Harrison. His fingers are drumming on the table, his brows pull together. There was a prominent shift in his mood when it was mentioned that Will accompanied our friends to Erudite.

"I'm certain," I reply, my gaze automatically turning to Eric. He nods along, looking down at the table, lost in thought. "He wanted us to bring the book to him this evening, but we don't-"

Where did the paper go?

My heart leaps into my throat. It's the only thing we have, the only bit of information that keeps us in the game.

I twist to Uriah. He pulled me out, he must-

"It's right here, Tris." Max speaks up, and pushes a crumpled page towards me, "I'm assuming this is what you're looking for." I lean over, swiping up the page. "I don't know of how much use it will be to us, though," he carries on, "it's not in any language we know of."

"Even I've taken a look at it," Eric joins in, "I'm at a loss, too."

I glance over the paper. Who knows what enchantment it had on it to keep it so intact underwater, but it's fragile as anything now.

I look over the page, confused. I flip it over, trying to find the allusive words.

"Did you give me the right thing?" I ask hesitantly, "because all I see is an image."

I turn the paper back over. Staring back at me is a drawing, it's colours faded with the time it's spent underwater. But I can still make out the scene. It's cliffs, with a calm sea underneath. Rising either up or down, is a bright figure. They stand out against the obsidian stone, their arms are extended, looking somewhat welcoming. I bring the paper slightly closer, familiarity nagging.

"What do you see?" Someone asks. It came from the right, but my attention is too deep into figuring out what's so familiar about this image that I can't pinpoint the voice.

The cliffs are legendary, even to me. They're the most dangerous cliffs in the world, the jaggad black stone so sharp one miss footing will lead to certain death. It's unsurprising why the Dauntless wanted to settle here all those years ago.

"It's the cliffs!" I exclaim, my head popping up to see my audience. I turn the paper around, forgetting that they can't see it. I point out the picture anyway, "the black stone is the most familiar point, the odd thing though, is that the sea isn't thrashing around-"

My eyes shift around the room as I speak, and land on the door. She stands there stiffly, her eyes widening as we make contact.

I freeze, my hands clasping down on the fragile parchment. Natalie takes a precautionary step forward, and I feel myself flinch back.

I now realise why everyone has been so silent. They weren't waiting on my explanation of the image.

The last time I saw her was the day before we set off for Erudite. I had left Caleb and Xavier with them, in too much of a hurry, and needing an escape, to stay to chat.

But now she's here, waiting. Waiting for what?

"What are you doing here?" I blurt out, not realising how rude that sounded. My heartbeat begins to pick up, and my stomach churns.

Her eyes flicker around the room, her grey castle dress standing out against the dauntless black that floods the room.

Hanna stands, walking over to Natalie. "You shouldn't be here, Nat. Not with you so ill only weeks ago."

Just as she reaches her, Natalie pulls away. "I'm fine, Hanna," her attention hasn't left mine, and my burning eyes seem glued on her, too. "I need to talk with you."

I'm already shaking my head, "you can say it here-"

"No, Beatrice." She says swiftly, her voice not wavering, "you may tell the rest if you deem fit, but I will speak to you in private, first."

A pang hits me in the centre of my chest, and it squeezes and squeezes until it feels like I can't breathe. A haunting vision of the mother she could have been drowns me. Stern, but kind. Strong, but compassionate.

And I want it to go. I can't deal with the shaking of my hands, the helplessness I've slowly accepted as my most prevalent emotion.

I nod my head numbly, and I can see her visibly relax. I wish I could too, but I'm about to explode.

Following her out of the door, her sweet scent flows over me. Floraly, light. It does nothing to ease my oncoming breakdown.

With the door clicking behind me, I take a deep breath in. I can't break down, especially in front of her.

I lift my eyes to hers, forcing myself to find any semblance of the composure I once prided myself on. It's little to nothing now, but I'm a fine actress.

Her green eyes pierce into mine. I want to look away, but hold my ground. "What did you need?"

She sighs, shaking her head, "Beatrice, please-"

"Please don't call me that." Each time that name comes out of her mouth, my skin crawls. And I hate myself for it.

Hurt doesn't just shine out of her eyes, but fills her whole face. But she masks it quickly. "Your family from Tosken are at the palace."

My family? "Caleb and Xavier? They were supposed to have gotten back on the ship days ago, why-"

"No, B-Tris, not just the boys. King Jasper, Queen Melanie, the Princes-"

I laugh in her face. There's no way my parents are here, why the brothers are here. "You're joking, right?" My smile soon fades when she doesn't laugh back. Not one slice of humour sits on her face.

Those incessant lumps come back and place themselves in the bottom of my throat. I hunch over, hacking up the blood. It's thick and dark, staining my hand a deep red.

I feel her hand rubbing my back, and when I straighten myself, I watch the horror transform her face. "Oh my god, Beatrice-"

Ignoring the use of my name, I cut off her concern, rubbing my wet hand in my joggers, "it's nothing. Tell me why my parents are here."

My expression must be harsh enough to keep her from commenting further. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, until she finally comes to her senses. "They've been invited to your welcome ball. But it's not just them at the castle, it's every royal family."

Every family? Why would every family come to a boring welcoming ball? It would be strange on any normal day, but with Arthur and Celia prowling the country, it sits heavy in my stomach. I need to get back to the castle, my family- they can't be here, not now. "This isn't normal, is it?"

She shakes her head, "It's unusual, especially how little time there has been from the choosing."

Who has invited them? Why did they all accept the invite? I cover my face with my hands, and give myself a few seconds to let me process this in whatever privacy I can muster.

On the count of 10, I uncover my face. "Thank you, Natalie, for the heads up." That's all I can get out. I feel the unspoken words hanging between us. This woman, the one I should be able to tell anything to, the one person that should feel like an extension of my own being, is nothing but a familiar stranger.

She nods once, going down into a curtsey. I grab her before her knees have time to bend, "don't-"

But then I'm staring into Caleb's eyes again, my blonde hair hanging from her head and then there's no hope in stopping the tears.

I step backwards, slapping my hand over my mouth to try and contain the sobs choking me.

These blocks have been pilling higher and higher on top of each other, wobbling and swaying for the past two months. But it's been inevitable from the beginning, that they were bound to tip over.

Uncontrollable sobs rack my body, my weak legs giving out from beneath me. Christina's gone, and so is Tobias. My friends' lives are in my hands, and I have no idea how to get them back. Celia's on a death mission, with my name at the top of her list, and Arthur is most likely planning to take over the country. And now the people that mean the world to me are in the Tosken castle, oblivious to the hell that's about to open.

"Shhhh, it's alright, Bea," Natalie soothes, her gentle arms encasing me from the side, "it's all going to be alright."

But her words just make me cry harder. All I've been since knowing she's my biological mother is a bitch. I've been nothing but rude and cold shoulder her effort to form some kind of connection, and what has she done in return? Be patient and understanding, even when I've never deserved it.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, my head turning to her. I can't see much through the blur of tears, but I feel her squeeze me gently. "I don't know why I'm such a horrible person, I-" gasping on the last word, my breath fractures.

"That's not true, my girl," she hushes, her lips touching my forehead, "you just need more time, and that's okay." She pulls back, wiping the slowing flow of tears away from my cheeks, "we have that time, Tris."

A wobbly smile touches my lips, my breath catching on every other intake, "you can call me Beatrice, if you want."

I watch as tears form in her own eyes, a gentle smile blossoming on her lips, "thank you." She lets out a wet laugh, shaking her head, "we better get back in there, before they come looking for you."

I nod my head slowly, looking back at the door. Through that entryway is every weight that's laying on my shoulders. Turning back to Natalie, I thank her that she's made hers that bit less heavy. "Can you come in with me?"

Those tears that have filled her eyes escape, pouring down her face, "of course I can." She pushes herself up, taking me by the arms and helping me stand, "we'll do this together, okay?"

I nod, feeling her strong embrace encase me. We push the doors open, able to get through this, together.