A/N- Defo found this chapter hard to write, which is probably obvious as it's been a while since I've updated. It being Summer doesn't help with how much time I have to write, with me doing extra shifts to cover my colleagues holidays and we've had a load of people leave this last month and will be having more people leave this month so that great lmao. Hopefully September will give me some more time to write. Anyway, we're nearly there! Enjoy chap 32! Bethany x

Chapter 38-

"Is it getting any worse?" Mar whispers, touching my bare arm lightly.

Gritting my teeth, I nod once. Forcing my feet to keep moving, we descend the staircase. Late evening light shines through the windows, bathing the stairs in a warm glow. The sapphires eat this up, their reflections bouncing off the hallway like a mirrorball.

Getting to the end of the staircase, we turn right, moving down the wide hall. "Well, beauty hurts," Christina jokes, "and you do look unreal!"

I just catch Eric nodding next to me, but I'm too preoccupied trying to breath through the increasingly searing pain to care if he thinks I look pretty.

Arthur, a few steps ahead, comes to a stop just before the entrance to the grand hall. The steps lead down to a set of wide doors, two guards flagging each side. Familiarity sweeps through me, and an image of my first full day here fogs my mind. It's the same doors I walked through when I was trying to find a way out to the beach that early morning.

Part of my heart yearns for that monotony, now realising how miniscule my problems were back then. If we just get through tonight it can go right back to that.

Eric and I stop at the top of the stairs, looking down at Arthur. His neck bends up slightly, his sharp eyes grasping onto my own. "You find that boy and bring back my journal, then you can have your girls back."

I take a glance at Christina, watching her gaze harden. Mar's hand squeezes my own, and her soft whisper says, "you've got this." Mar walks down the stairs, Christina in tow. A nod from Christina is the last bit of confirmation I get from the girls, before Arthur's being announced in the great hall, and the door eats them whole.

As the doors close on the girls, the stinging in my skin ten folds. My vibrating body turns into shakes, like my very own earthquake reeking havoc through my system. Lifting my hand up to my line of sight, I find I'm unable to keep myself under control.

"Tris?" Eric questions, concern rising.

"Erudite need to work on their numbing cream." I shakily get out, gritting my teeth together as the last word leaves my mouth. Taking in an unsteady breath, I stiffly place my hands back down to their sides. Hovering just next to my hips, I force them to hang in the open space.

But then Eric's pulling up my right forearm, tucking my hand carefully into his elbow.

"Be careful," I whisper, "if you even graze them…"

"I'll be careful," he replies, dark eyes latching onto mine, "you can do this, Tris."

Unable to keep looking into his certain eyes, I turned back to the door. I don't know why everyone seems to have such belief in me. I hardly have a plan. How can I prepare for this when all I have is a loose theory?

With a barely visible nod from a faceless guard, Eric begins descending the steps.

I let him lead me down, as some of my senses have become unreliable. I try to watch where I'm placing my feet, but the gleam from the dress makes my vision blurry.

The doors open before I've found my composure, and my eyes squint like someone's just pulled a switch on a clear summer's day after falling asleep under a moonless sky.

I keep my eyes low, vaguely hearing someone announce Eric, and then myself. The doors close behind me loudly, and we're walking down the stairs.

One thing I don't have trouble hearing, is the near silence the room has fallen into. I slowly lift my head, not sure if it's the best idea to not watch my feet descend the stairs.

But when I do, I get a full view of those in attendance. Shocked faces plaster the space, those of wonder and- and terror look back at me.

Unable to find familiarity in anyone, I let my stiff legs descend. Step after step sends waves of burning pain up and down my body. Each bend of the knee, each twist of the hip drags the sapphires over my skin, leaving red hot scorch marks. And when we finally make it to the marble floor, the pain doesn't decrease.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur bellows, standing just to Eric's right. He's in my line of sight, his proudness overtaking his body. The girls stand just behind him, but the size of the price keeps them away from me. "I would like to properly introduce you to Tosken's jewel of a Princess."

I scan though the crowd, anxiously trying to find Tobias before my sight becomes as unreliable as my legs are beginning to feel.

"We do have a treat for you all tonight, one that will make my humble invitation to Princess Beatrice's welcoming ball worthwhile."

And there he is, standing with Uriah and Zeke, near the wall of windows leading out to the patio. From all the way over there, I can't see his expression, but he ducks his head when Zeke says something into his ear, Zeke's hand pointing at the journal held tightly in the Prince's grasp.

"But for now," Arthur continues lightly, "eat, drink, and marvel at my beautiful creation! Her time to shine will be with you all shortly."

His beaming face looks as if he's just got a standing ovation. But no one's clapping, no one's moving.

Except…

"Arthur."

King Marcus moves out of the crowd, his worried gaze passing over me slowly as he stands in front of his brother.

Nausea takes a seat in the bottom of my stomach, this stuffy room not helping to keep the feeling at bay.

"Marcus!" Arthur cheers, "what do you think? She's raidant, isn't she?"

"We need a word."

Arthur, seeming to have expected this, nods. Then he looks to me, "don't go running off, now."

He twists on his heels, walking over to the small seating area just to the side of the grand staircase. The girls follow, their worried heads twisting back to me as they move.

And with that, everyone else's attention is back on me, but now there's whispers, movement. "I think I'm going to throw up," I choke out.

Eric, without even giving himself time to think, grabs my arm.

We part the crowd of a-list guest, Eric taking the lead. I keep my head down, breathing through the growing feeling.

I know this isn't just nausea anymore. I can feel the contents of my stomach swirling around, and there's nothing I can do to feel better but to empty it.

More than mine and Eric's footsteps follow us, but I can hardly think about where to next place my feet, let alone wonder who trails behind.

And then we're coming up to 3 steps, and like my legs have eyes of their own, they begin to wobble. "I don't think-"

A gasp leaves me, and so do my legs. Strong arms pull me off of the floor, cradling me like a baby.

"Lead, Eric, now." Tobias says harshly, his voice already straining as his words trail off.

His grip doesn't loosen as he completes the stairs, if anything it tightens as we travel through some door. I squirm in his grip, trying to free myself, "let go of me, Four-"

"Open that one," Tobias grits out, ignoring me completely.

A door creaks open, and then Tobias says, "you three stay out here, find her something else to wear." And then the door slams shut, and I'm standing on uncertain feet.

"We're taking this off, okay?"

All I can do is nod, my eyes blurring with reactive tears.

One hand holds my stomach from behind, the other pulls down the zip effortlessly. Guess the tightness of the dress has some perks.

And then it's in a hefty pool surrounding my feet, and Tobias is lifting me out of its hold. I try to break away from him once again, this time knowing I'm about to empty my guts. But he doesn't let go, moving me into another room.

The carpet turns into cold tile, and like my body knows I've entered a bathroom, I feel the sickness climbing swifty out of my throat. Tobias's grip loosens, and I'm able to hit the floor in time, clutching the toilet as my stomach contents leave me.

Tobias's POV

Her frail body convulses harshly as she throws up the little that must be in her stomach. Violent, painful shakes rack her upper body as her gastro system forces everything out, and doesn't stop even when she's evidently empty.

I stay by her side, holding her dampening hair away from her face. I keep my other hand to myself, knowing if I was in her shoes I wouldn't want anything touching me, especially another warm being.

Her convulsions begin to be replaced by coughs, and soon she's hanging over the toilet, exhausted, resting her head on a glistening arm.

"Tris?"

A hum bounces off of the toilet bowl, bringing some uncanny echo to her voice.

My hand reaches out, hovering over her bare back. I only hesitate momentarily, before resting my hand on her hip. "Do you want to go lay down on the couch?"

She's quiet for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "Yeah," she croaks out, pushing herself off the toilet seat.

I try to keep my eyes on hers as she twists around, once again finding ourselves in the situation of her being half naked.

Her lids half cover her heavy eyes, tear tracks indenting her face. My hand, having dropped from her hip, finds its home on her cheek, wiping away the moisture. Her eyes close at the contact, her shoulders sagging.

Gently grasping under her arms, I hoist her up. The pressure does nothing to help the now prevalent pain covering my forearms, and I suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Luckily, Tris doesn't seem to notice, and I'm able to get her back into the small receiving chamber without any more objection.

Berating myself for not pulling down my sleeves before grabbing her in the hall, I sit down on the sofa. Keeping her limp body in my lap, I pull the blanket off of the top of the couch with my spare arm, draping it over her exposed skin. The movement causes my eyes to catch the angry blisters that are quickly welling up on the surface of my own skin. Sighing, I lean back into the cushions, trying to keep my budding fury at bay.

That dress. That's what they were mining the lake for? To make Tris a dress out of sapphires? I huff out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. I had no clue what they were using the sapphires for, but not for one second did I think it was going to involve Tris. How stupid. Of course it was going to involve her. Apart from Celia, who Arthur has no clue about, she's the only person capable of harnessing the gem's powers.

But what does Arthur expect to happen when she's wearing the stones? An enhancement in her abilities? She's able to heal and burn, what more could come from that? Creation? Death? I rub my free hand over my face, sighing. She already brought me back, which is a thought I'd rather keep for another time, but she did. It seems like she's well on the way to do those far fetched ideas.

Tris shifting under me brings my attention back to the present. I watch as her thick blonde hair falls over my arm like daylight, covering my welling blisters. But as exhaustion takes her home, I'm unable to keep my attention on my failing skin. Each exhale and inhale she takes becomes a steady rhythm, one that helps relax my own body.

Tucking a stray clump of hair away from her sleeping face, I can't help but let the tips of my fingers move over her features. Trailing from her cheek bone down to her soft, pink lips. I let my finger lay there for a moment, feeling her gentle breath flow over my hand.

"This is such a disaster," I mutter to myself, pulling her closer. With my jaw clenched, I watch as the blanket loosens around her shoulder. I grab it swiftly, going to pull it back over her. But then my eye catches onto her shoulder. A white dot, surrounded by red. And another, and another. They connect together in a straight line, and I don't need to look to know they spread across her body, mapping out where the sapphire dress once lay.

My eyes magnetise to the doorway, glancing at the heap of stones. From its place on the floor, it looks innocent enough. Opulent, stunning, but does not scream danger.

I then look to the left. Chucked onto the cold, marble floor, is the journal, exactly where I threw it. There sits the real danger, its pages open right where its missing pages should lay. The one page that we do have burns a hole in the back pocket of my dark trousers, like it's avidly trying to make itself whole again.

The creek of the door opening forces my eyes to whip towards the door, and my grip on Tris tightens reflectively.

It only loosens slightly when I see Zeke enter, holding some sort of slip in his hand.

He glances at Tris, features pinching, "she okay?"

I heave out a sigh, "she's breathing."

Understanding, he nods. Holding up the piece of cotton, he says, "it's the first thing I could find."

I give him a tight lipped smile, watching him place it on the chaise to his left. He stands there awkwardly, which seems like such a bizarre thing to watch. I've known Zeke since we were infants- there's never been an awkward moment between us.

"Not to push or anything," he starts, placing his hands behind his back, "but did she have a plan or…?"

I glanced down at her, features just as relaxed as before. "Her plan was to get the girls back and deal with the consequences as they come."

At once, we both looked at the dead weight on the floor. Old pages stare back accusingly, knowing what we're about to do.

I shift slightly, coming from a slouch to sitting up on the sofa. Tris stays passed out in my arms as I watch Zeke move over to the journal, crouching down and picking it up. "So we're just going to give it to him?"

I lock eyes with my best friends, knowing he's questioning how this is going to play out.

"We keep the extra page with us," I say, my voice level. "From what Tris has said, I'm thinking it's more valuable than half the foreign words written in the journal." What would have been best would to have had both twin pages, but one is better than none.

He nods slowly, holding the book a decent ways away from him. He glances at Tris, then back to me. "Are we doing this now or are we waiting?"

I, too, glance at her. Who knows how long she'll sleep for. "She wants this over with, so the sooner we pass over the journal, the better." And then I look over at the slip, feeling my cheeks warm slightly, "and I'd rather have the girls here with her, especially Christina."

Zeke nods, "so, plan?"

Grasping Tris again, I stand up, making sure the blanket is fully covering her. I turn, placing her back on the sofa. "I want you and Uriah to stay here until the girls come, then I want you to join me back out in the ballroom."

I move a sunlight pillow into position, then place her head down slowly. Brushing a few strands of hair back away from her face, I stand. "And then we hope she hasn't thought of a better plan by the time she wakes."