A/N- Getting there!

Chapter 40

Tobias's POV

Peter stands no more than a metre away. He holds the book loosely in his hands, flicking through the pages. The sconces closest to him lights the left side of his face up in a warm glow, and makes the pages look like they're ready to burn.

My head shakes without thought, fury simmering. It was always going to feel wrong, giving the journal over to Arthur. But now with the girls free, and Tris being forced back into the sapphire gown, it feels nearly destructive.

"Wonder what's so important about this junk?" Peter muses, flipping the book around in his hands. He looks over to me, brows raised.

Still held tightly by Erudite's bulky guards, I grit out, "like you don't know."

Peter's innocent eyes meet mine. Then they shift lower, like he's sizing me up. With a shake of his head, he says, "you're looking worse for wear, brother."

And I don't think it's just my forearms he's talking about. The past week has wreaked havoc on my body, and I know it's starting to show. If I was at my full strength, these guards wouldn't have a hold on me, nor would the factionless ones that held me by the Silent Cliffs.

This weak feeling is just as alien as it is embarrassing. No Dauntless Prince should ever find himself in a situation as this one. Especially in front of a crowd.

Looking past Peter, I glance over Arthur's audience. Morbid curiosity holds their royal attention, keeping them from running from the room. It's insane enough that I can call up no fault in their reactions. Say I was in their place, not chained to the hall, would I feel my feet become bricks? Would I be held here by my own knowing need?

But in an instant, their heads twist at the sound of opening doors. The warming of my chest has me glancing through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, to know she's okay. I know her and I are not the same, but I've seen the way the dress affects her. It may not bring blood to the surface, but it still burns deep.

The parting crowd gives me what I want, but satisfaction is nowhere to be found. From here, I can see the way her brows pull, the way her lips press against each other. I can almost feel the stinging pain rippling through her body, the vibrations that embed themselves into her skin.

The guards keep her moving, but hold their distance as not to harm themselves. She lowers her head as she closes in, letting her sunlit hair cover her usually animated face.

But Arthur doesn't allow her to hide for long. He's quick to lift her chin, his ageing hands gripping her jaw harshly. My stomach twists painfully, my mind crumbling into useless pieces. Is wiseness really worth watching him do this to her? Should I carry on mutilating myself for the pathetically miniscule chance of freeing her?

Like she's read the thoughts tumbling through my mind, her gaze meets mine. She's gritting her teeth together, and a quick shake of her head is enough to hold myself back, for now, at least.

Then her attention is back on him. Somehow finding her expression amusing, Arthur grins, "after tonight, it would be wise to make your face more palatable, for your own good."

"You're not going to touch the boys," Tris spits out, hands turning into solid fists. "This isn't going to pan out the way you want it to."

Arthur tuts, skimming his fingers down her neck. He rests them on her collar bones, like a wine stain on cloth.

I'm locked on his hand, feeling that fury ignite. Details fall into place with a click of two fingers. He really thinks this is going to work. He believes by getting rid of myself and my brothers, he'll marry Tris and become King.

The thought of what his plan could possibly do with the journal passes before I can even give it the time of day. Instead, my peripheral vision is filled with my brothers.

I look around, lips parting. Erudite guards come to a stop, holding my brothers tightly from behind. They're lined up in front of Arthur and Tris, like they're waiting for the firing squad. The Princesses eyes widen just as mine do, fear now drenching my anger.

They're all here. Eric, Al- Peter. Held in place by Erudite guards, they await whats to come. And as I think there's little hope of any of us five getting out of here alive, I feel a the beating of my heart increase. Robert. He's not here.

"Your joyful Amity brother will be joining us soon," Arthur casually says, gasping onto Tris's upper arm. "But I think we can get the festivities started, I do have a few of you to get through."

Tris's POV-

He's actually going to do it. My hands tingle, like they're anticipating the inevitable doom. Then I'm shaking my head, cold acceptance flooding in. This is going to happen.

Tobias is moved, standing the furthest away from me. Our eyes meet, but I feel locked in place. Then I am. I'm grabbed from behind, but I don't dare look away. Arthur's guards hold me tightly once more, rooting me in place.

Panic climbs up my spine as time seems to quicken. Ideas fly through my head, stupid and unsuccessful ones, but I can't just do nothing. I just need something to make him pause, make him waste time-

But he's walking up to Eric, a gun in his hand. "Oh my god," I breathe out, my heart skipping a beat.

Eric's dark eyes trail the deadly object, then climb up to its handler.

The room's quiet, either too shocked to move an inch, or too curious to see if Arthur would really go through with this. If he's really going to kill Tosken's Princes.

But there's no need to question. He's more than capable of causing harm, no matter the being on the other end. And everyones going to watch. Even the boy's own mother-

Wait-

Where is Evelyn?

The question pops into my head so fast, I'm twisting my neck to try and catch a glimpse of her. But either she isn't here, or the guards are blocking my view. What feels right, though, is that she hasn't been here all night.

"As much as Tobias is a pain," Arthur says lightly, "and as much as I know that'll break the Princess, you-" my eyes are back on the gun, "are the most disappointing thing to ever come out of Erudite. And for that, you may be first." Arthur smiles, "and this way, Tobias will be last."

"I may be a disappointment to you, Uncle," Eric calmly replies, "and you may assume Erudite's population think the same. But all that matters to me is that when this is all over, you will lose any ounce of respect our faction- the country has ever held for you. When what happened here tonight inevitably gets out, you will wish you were rotting in a grave right next to mine."

My mouth opens, but closes, too shocked to even come up with anything to say. Eric, even mere days ago, would have never had the guts to speak to Arthur that way. I don't know if it's the death threat, or the young Prince's patience running dry, but he's finally found his voice.

"And for a mouth so disgustingly filthy," the safety clicks off, which leads to my heart freezing in my chest, "I will not make this quick."

"Arthur-" I croak out without thought, "this can't- you don't have to do this." I swallow, feeling my throat tighten. His head turns slowly, his middle aged face looking at me with discontempt.

Taking in a deep breath, I say, "I'll do whatever you want. If that's my hand in marriage, fine. I'll make you King, just leave them be."

A frozen gaze stares back at me, and just behind his head I watch as the gun hangs in the air. "As glad I am to hear that, Beatrice," his finger moves, landing on the trigger. "You're smart enough to know the Gods would never allow our union with their Princes alive."

I am so not smart enough- "what do gods even have to do with this? Are you talking about the Divinity?"

His eyes turn icy, but they're still trained on me. "When I summon them, you may ask them yourself." He cocks his head, "now, stop-"

"Wasting your time?"

If I could go back in time and tell myself that her voice would drench me in buckets of relief, I think I'd have called myself mad.

But when I look past Arthur, past the boys, there she is. With her factionless crew flanking her, she emerges from the crowd.

With the whole room, including me, giving their undeniable full attention to Arthur, not one person has seen Celia enter. Even Erudite's guards. The sly smile on her face tells enough, and that school teacher shake of her head is just as undermining. "Now, now. I don't think this is necessary."

Like she wasn't willing to kill Tobias only hours ago?

Arthur's gun doesn't move an inch, but his attention doesn't have the same obedience.

I watch as his eyes cling onto the curls on her head, and move down to the fitted top and trousers clinging to her body. Her hair hangs wilder compared to hours ago. But to Arthur, they'll be just as recognisable from that picture he showed Eric and me back in his Erudite office.

So smugness feeds Arthur, "have you come to watch the spectacle? I imagine you're just as enamoured with the context of the journal as I am." Arthurs free hand lifts, then his fingers motion over to Peter. The guards let him go easily, and Peter follows the instructions without pause.

"Peter," I call out, once last ditch effort to change his mind. But another voice overshadows mine.

The youngest of the brothers stops in his tracks, like Tobias's voice has some heavy power over him.

"You don't have to do this," Tobias says, pulling once, then twice at the holds on him. His eyes don't stray from Peters, his gaze just as hopeful as you'd expect from a sibling. "Don't give it to him, please- just think, Peter. What's Arthur ever done for you? If you hand it over now, you'll be back in this line, waiting for that gunshot."

"Save your breath, boy," Arthur snides, "your brother's the only one who's had any sense this whole time. He won't be swayed by your pathetic plea."

"Arthur's right," Peter finally says, shrugging his unbothered shoulders, "nothing you say will change my mind, Four." He chucks a grin back over to his older brother, "but kudos for trying."

Tobias's face is like a punch to the gut. For someone who is notorious for being hard to read, he's transformed into an open book. The stranger before him no longer consists of his brother, no longer the boy he grew up with. I can't imagine the hurt Tobias is feeling right now, but the wound on his face shows he's lost the recognition of his brother.

So Peter begins walking again, walking over to Arthur. With his plan falling nicely into place, the older Prince's anticipation vibrates outwards.

But then Peter does something I don't think even a Seer could have seen coming. He stops short of Arthur, and hands over the journal to Celia.

Celia's red lips stretch into a smile, and she takes the book gladly out of Peter's hands. She nods pleasantly at Arthur, her dark eyes lighting up. "I think I'd have to agree with you about common sense."

I can feel displaced laughter rising up my throat, and the look on Arthur's face does nothing to help me swallow it.

It's not even betrayal he's wearing. It's that look where you hadn't even planned for any other outcome. But Peter's always been unpredictable, even I know that. Maybe if Arthur was more of an Uncle to Eric, he might have had a better insight on the brothers.

And then the factionless are moving in, and like they are a repellent, I'm let go. Loyalties have flown out the window as I watch the Erudite guards scurry away. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the scene at hand.

Arthur's taken my position, held by-

"Charlie," I say under my breath. But like my words carried through the still air, he looks towards me. Expressionless, apart from a quick turn of his lips. Then he's back to looking at Celia.

She's skimming through the book, which gives me enough time to get to Tobias.

The factionless now have hold of the four boys, but the two holding Tobias don't even flinch when I come to stand before him.

"Please tell me you weren't smiling when that went down," he sighs.

With his hands behind his back, I skirt around the question, "are you in handcuffs?"

He only nods once, then opens his mouth to press his query furthur. But with the idea popping into my mind and making a home there, I'm unable to give time to his confusion. At the moment.

Approaching him slowly, I keep my eyes on the factionless guards. Their attention doesn't stray from their leader, not as she speaks to the room behind me.

"What are you doing?" Tobias harshly whispers.

I snake my hands around his back. With him being a good deal larger than me, to find his handcuffs, my body has to press snugly against his.

"Tris, as much as I like this position, I don't think-"

Clenching my fists around the metal links holding the cuffs together, I throw all of my concentration, all of my feeling, into the palms of my hands.

And like the conductor they are, the morbid amount of sapphires clinging to my skin does something good. The feeling of warmth runs out of my chest, and into the cuffs.

And for that beat of a moment, the pain of the dress ceases. Running my hands away from the dripping metal, I find his back pocket. I pluck out the thin paper, and let my pinky and ring finger hold onto it. Then, I let my palms wander down Tobias's arms.

"You trust me, right?"

A coolness sets in, tingling my fingertips. I watch as he pulls his arms back around, and my hand trails off. His attention grasps onto the unusable links still clinging onto his wrists.

I glance at my other handiwork, feeling my chest squeeze with pride. Not even a mark lingers on the Prince's forearms.

"You're insane," he mumbles, in what I think is bewilderment. Wide, ocean eyes meet mine, and I can't help the blood that rushes through my cheeks.

But then the brief moment of relief disappears, and the creeping tingle from the gems reminds me time is moving.

"Follow my lead?"

He nods without hesitation, and like I've cued her in, Celia calls, "Beatrice, your presence, please!"

One last confirming nod towards Tobias's trusting face, and I turn.

She stands a few feet in front of an enraged Arthur, but it's like she's able to block him out completely. Her angelic facing features stay neutral, her deep set eyes only on me.

But I'm not as talented as her. Especially when Arthur's fury turns to me. He seems to put two and two together quickly, now well aware the journal has been missing pieces.

"Don't you dare hand that over!" He starts forward, but is harshly pulled back by his captures. I carry on forward, bringing my attention back to Celia. "You have no idea what I will do to you if you give her-"

The old queen turns sharply, and in no more than a blink of the eye, her hand grips his neck. Arthurs speech cuts off quickly, small eyes widening into globes as she plunges her fingers through his skin.

It's an odd sight, watching that sort of heat do its work on the human body. No blood drips down his shirt, instead, when she removes her hand, and he drops to the floor, it looks clean. Like the heat boiled and congealed the blood.

Some sort of static buzzes in my ears, leaving only my paused eyes working. The impossibility of the situation cuts through like a knife, and only shock registers. My head begins to shake, back and forth. Not one movement escapes the older Prince's body, and if I wasn't looking at his mangled throat, I'd probably just think he's been knocked out.

And then I can't see him anymore, which seems to kick in my hearing. Commotion ruptures through the hall, shouts and screams calling out of our prestigious guests. And then I see the source of it all.

Celia's head luls to the left, eyes wide with expectation. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

…

"As some of you may have figured out, your invitation tonight wasn't just for the new Princesses welcoming ball."

The room has shifted around Celia and I, forming a circle. Looking to my right, I find Tobias, Eric and Al. They stand with the rest of the guests, looking rather inconspicuous. That is, until they make one move the factionless guards behind them do not like. The shock of their uncle's demise is still plastered on each of their faces. Eric's gaze still sticks to the large man crumpled on the floor, almost like if he stares at him for long enough Arthur's throat will sew itself back together.

I scan the rest of the crowd, wondering if my family is here. I lock my body in place, trying to control my shaking as I try to find them. The only person I've seen tonight is Xavier, but as I look over the mass of people, I come up short. The room is dark, with the only light now the firelit sconces lining the walls. The moon's glow only does so much to help me search for my Athuan royals, and I come up empty.

Worry comes in quickly, and when I turn back to Celia, I can only hope they're somewhere safe.

Still addressing the room, she puts one hand on Peter's back. Indecision fills my mind as my lips press together. On one hand, Peter is doing me a favour. But with the knowledge that he can't be doing this for the only right reason, it's hard to back him 100%. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I let myself deal with my moral dilemma if we all get out of here in one piece.

"Our youngest Tosken Prince was the one to feed Arthur the idea of inviting you all. Prince Arthur thought the presence of an elite audience was the icing on his cake. But," she twists, arms widening, "there is a use for some of you tonight, an important one."

She stops moving, and lets one of her hands drop. The other turns into a point. I follow her finger, finding a pretty girl in a pink tourmaline dress. The Princess's brown skin greys instantly, her feets moving backwards as Celia's move forwards.

"There's no need for that," Celia laughs as she grabs a hold of the Princesses' arms. With the girl's flight mode in action, it takes Celia some effort to get the Princess to do what she wants to do.

Finally Celia lets go, but only when the Vihar royal stands atop of a star on the wooden floor. Brows pulling together, I quickly find the other stars. 12 in total, placed like a clock.

"Now," Celia says to the young girl, "you'll stand there until I tell you not to. Understood?"

The shaken Princess takes a brief glance over to her family, before nodding her head quickly.

"Wonderful!" Celia looks around, her eyes landing on me, "we do love a compliant Princess, don't we?"

"Time's ticking," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I flinch slightly, forgetting about the pretty dress clinging to my body. Either I've gotten considerably used to the stinging, or the situation is more than my mind is capable of comprehending, but the parts of my body where the dress calls home doesn't hurt half as much as it used to.

She shakes her head, moving over to Topaz. "That smart mouth will do you no good when you are at the mercy of the Gods."

And so on she goes, until all 11 Princesses are placed on top of jagged stars. The only space now is behind me.

Peter has been moved out of the inner circle, so now only Celia and I inhabit it. She's holding the thick book, which makes me grip the one page in my hand harder.

Slowly, she moves into the middle, crouches down, and places the book on some engraved pattern on the floor. A smaller circle is burnt into the wood, with a moon-like curve splitting the circle in an uneven half. Flipping open the book, she thumbs through pages until she stops. The journal sits quietly on the floor, not one page daring to move from its position. Next, she reaches into her pocket, and takes out her own free paper. From over here, I can hardly see what's on it, but what I can see is a load of blue.

She places the paper on top of the book, then stands. Looking at her handiwork for a brief moment, she looks over at me. "Your turn," she says.

I take a hesitant step forward, feeling the inevitable rush in. As much as I know I need to do this, the information still doesn't calm my rapid heart.

We're summoning gods, we have to be.

With unsure feet, I make it to Celia. Not taking my eyes off of her, I bend down. Placing the last page into the book is harder than I thought it would be. I take a quick glance, finding my fingers unable to let go.

What will come after we do this?

"Time, Beatrice," I hear from in front of me. Looking back up, I find Celia, also crouching down. And behind her, is a large clock. The minute hand lingers on 5 to 12. Nearing midnight. The old queen smiles at me as she motherly strokes my upper arm, "I just want you to know that your family are safe for the moment. But if you ruin this for me, you know I'll have no problem disposing of them."

"I wasn't planning on disrupting your display," I grit out as I feel my heart harden. "But you harm them, and you know I'll have no issue putting my foot where it doesn't belong."

She nods, holding out her hand, "deal."

I let go of the page, grasping her usually uncooperative hand, "deal."

And then she's gone within milliseconds, replaced by blinding light. And all I can feel is her loosening grip.