CHAPTER 11

Cade tried not to fidget as his butler combed back his hair. There was really no reason for him to be so uncomfortable. All he had to do was sit there and smile. He wasn't even going to be speaking. He should be happy. He got lucky.

Should be.

He was wearing a blue suit, probably indistinguishable from the dozen others in his closet, and a plain gray tie. He was going for nondescript. He couldn't blend into the background, he was the Crown Prince of Illéa, but he had no desire for his outfit to attract any attention, good or bad.

After copious amounts of gel and a spritz of cologne, Cade was pronounced done and set off to go fetch the selected from their rooms.

He figured he should get Pamela first. He did promise her, in no uncertain terms, that he would pick her up from her room. If he came with two other girls that would ruin the sentimentality of the moment for Pamela, and he didn't want to do that.

"Your Highness," she curtsied. Her dress was a muted gray and she wore only a simple strand of pearls for jewelry.

"Miss Ramseyer. You, uh, you look nice."

"Thank you."

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I don't want to keep anyone waiting," Pamela promised. She clasped her hands behind her back, forcing her posture to be straighter.

"Oh, I wasn't waiting…"

"That's good. I try to always be punctual. It would be very unladylike to be tardy." Cade didn't know if it was unladylike but he respected that. He himself always tried to be on time. It was his last defense mechanism when things were speeding downhill.

"I hate being late too."

"Ah. I guess that is common ground there."

"Yes. It is."

They were quiet for a few moments as Cade tried desperately to remember which room belonged to Blythe. He had checked the numbers before setting out, but somewhere in between the third floor and talking with Pamela, it had slipped out of the forefront of his mind.

"Which provinces will be at the debate?" Pamela finally asked.

"The people running? They're from most ones along the western coast. Sonage, Allens. Just nearby ones."

Was it 212 or 221?

"Not Fennely?"

"I don't think so. That's pretty far away to come for a debate."

Pamela sniffed. "I thought so. I talked to one of my cousins, he's planning on running in the next elections, but he said he wasn't attending. I just wanted to make sure. I would have tried to wish him luck beforehand."

"You have family running for a council seat?" Cade asked, not entirely sure how he felt about that. He supposed it made sense. The Ramseyers were a big name in politics, especially in Fennely. One of the old governors was a Ramseyer. He was pretty sure two district chairmen were Ramseyers. It was only a matter of time until someone from the family tried to get themselves the most coveted spot in politics: a spot on the royal council.

"Yes, I do. Many in my family are in politics."

Cade grinned a little. "I know, I write congratulatory letters to everyone who wins an office."

Pamela nodded solemnly. "I've seen them. You have very nice penmanship."

Cade was a bit flattered. "Thank you."

Okay. Enough stalling. Closing his eyes and muttering a wish for the best, he knocked on the door to room 221. "Is Miss Cecilia here?" He asked the maid who opened the door. At least if he was wrong he wouldn't have to see the crestfallen face of a different selected girl. That would be cruel of him, even if it was an accident.

By some stroke of luck, the maid nodded. "Lady Blythe is almost finished. I will go get her."

"Okay."

"Not everyone in my family goes into politics," Pamela continued. "Some are in law enforcement, a few in the military. One of my uncles runs a factory. We don't…he's a bit of a loner in that regard."

"It's nice that you all have such good careers. What does your mother do?"

Pamela opened her mouth, then closed it. "She's not in the picture."

Suddenly worried that his question, one posed nonchalantly, perhaps even thoughtlessly was rude, Cade quickly tried to cover up. "Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep boundaries. I understand if you don't want to speak about that, if it's a delicate subject matter."

Pamela just nodded. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Blythe curtsied as she walked out of her room. Her outfit was far more elegant than Pamela's. A form-fitting dark blue dress with a gold sash around her waist. Her dark hair had been pinned up, adorned with rhinestone clips. "I'm sorry I took so long, I lost track of the time."

"It's alright," Cade said, silently thanking whatever form of divine intervention had spared him the quickly deteriorating conversation with Pamela. "We should go get Miss Phobos, and then we can go to the car."

Mona was waiting outside her room, leaning against a fancy end table holding an expensive blue vase. She looked perturbed, but not annoyed, at the wait, her eyes holding some combination of amusement and impatience.

"That took you long enough!" Mona exclaimed when she was their troop approaching.

"It's my fault, I'm sorry," Blythe apologized quickly. "I was getting ready and it took longer than I was expecting."

"It's fine, I was joking," Mona insisted, joining them.

They all made polite conversation on the way down to the car and towards the site of the debate. The weather, pets, vacation stories, things not nearly romantic enough to make a group date awkward. He appreciated that. Flirting was something foriegn to Cade, and to be flirted with in a group setting almost hurt his stomach to think about.

Or maybe that was just his nerves about the upcoming excursion, which with every traffic light was growing closer to actually happening.

When Cade saw the crowd of photographers and journalists crowded around the pavilion, he almost felt bad for complaining (albeit, internally) about the amount of media people on his date with Finley.

Now, Cade wasn't vain enough to assume that they were all there for him. He was sure that at least three quarters were already planning to attend before his presence was announced a few days ago. However, he was also sure all except the most straight edged political reporters would be glad to focus on him, even if it meant some of the finer points of the debaters' platforms wouldn't make it into tomorrow's papers.

Which, he supposed, was the council's plan.

Blythe laughed a little as she looked out the window, "You would almost think this is a movie premier."

"Well," Mona answered, "It is in a way." She flipped back her hair and made a face. "Am I ready for my close-up yet?"

"Yeah," Cade answered, his eyes still trained on the window.

"It is all somewhat gaudy, is it not?" Pamela asked, following his gaze. "I thought these were usually more subdued affairs."

They were. Cade hadn't been to many in his lifetime but they were generally quiet, polite events with a few respectful columnists from well-known papers. This one wasn't.

"I think some of them are here to take photos of us," Cade added.

"Maybe a red carpet would have been more appropriate," Mona commented. "That's always been on my bucket list."

"To walk down one?"

"Yes. Along with shark diving and parasailing in the south pacific."

"Why the south pacific?" Blythe asked. "Is it different from other oceans?"

Mona nodded brightly. "The water is so much clearer. If you see it in a side-by-side comparison you would know what I'm talking about."

"That's really cool. Sorry, I'm just a little…" Cade cleared his throat, "Can we go out?"

Their security was two guards that Cade had never met before (Not the same ones from the date with Finley. They probably wouldn't get assigned to him any time soon. Assuming they were still employed. Oh no, he really needed to check on that and make sure they were okay. They didn't deserve to get fired over what he did.)

"Yes, but listen. It's much more crowded than we expected. When you get out of the car, walk straight to the door. Don't stop to answer any questions or for photos. There are places inside for that. People are going to be screaming your names, Ladies Blythe, Desdemona, and Pamela, but try not to turn your head or acknowledge that you heard."

The girls nodded their consent, and after a moment Cade realized he was supposed to as well. Satisfied, the first guard motioned to the chauffeur to open the door.

It was loud. Very, very loud. If Cade wasn't used to it he would have winced and tried to put his hands over his ears, but he didn't. He let it all blur together so that no one statement was really distinguishable from another. It was all just noise.

Cade got out first, holding out a hand to help each of the women out. Blythe barely reacted to the questions, but both Mona and Pamela looked around in some form of amazement. Maybe shock was a better word. Cade didn't think anyone would call it amazing to have money-hungry journalists pressing on barriers and calling your name to try to make a cheap buck off a story.

The inside was much quieter. Employees with name tags buzzed around while people in suits discussed things, probably their points, in hushed tones. The few journalists present were all dressed formally with pins stating their names and who they were representing. Cade saw Pamela's shoulders loosen and Blythe's face soften.

"That could have been worse," Cade remarked.

"It could have been," Blythe agreed. "That was worse than any event I've ever been to, but you're right. It could have been a lot worse."

"You would think these people never learned discretion," Mona added in faux-offense.

"Discretion wouldn't get them what they want." Cade said quietly.

"What do they want?" Pamela asked.

"A story," Blythe and Cade said at the same time.

"Jinx," Mona threw in.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I didn't mean to interrupt you." Blythe said all that very quickly, her face growing red. As if she thought Cade would be offended. People interrupted him all the time, and very rarely did they ever apologize for it.

"Oh, no, it's fine. Really, I don't mind. I probably spoke over you, I'm sorry I shouldn't have," Cade rambled before he could stop himself.

"Okay."

"I'm going to go get water before we go to our seats. I can meet you." Cade needed a few minutes of solitude to clear his head away from people he had to impress. Selected ladies included. He might be the one choosing a wife but it wouldn't do very well for them all to want to leave.

"I'll come," Mona volunteered as Blythe and Pamela turned to follow an usher up to the box seats.

"Oh, um, okay. I think it's over there." Cade said, nodding his head toward a table set up with various refreshments.

"Yeah."

"Do you actually want to walk a red carpet?" Cade asked as they walked over.

Mona laughed, shaking her head. "Well, sure. I guess who doesn't, but I just said that because I thought everyone seemed a bit tense about the crowds. I do actually want to go parasailing."

"That makes sense. If you do, I was going to offer, if you wanted to go to an award show or something, you could walk the red carpet there." Cade didn't manage to make eye contact with her as he said that despite his best efforts.

"Uh, obviously! I would love to go to one. How many girls who aren't remotely talented at acting or singing get to walk red carpets?"

"I don't know. A few maybe? But I think it would be a much better date than this. Much less um, stiff."

"Much less talking in whispers." Mona said as she grabbed a water bottle off the table.

"That too."

"It's kind of fun though, it's a new thing to try. I guess whoever wins the selection will have to go to lots of these."

Cade looked down for a moment. "Not really. No one from the royal family usually attends these events."

"Why not?"

"Um, there's a whole bunch of reasons, but between you and me, I think that my ancestors just thought they were boring."

Mona burst out laughing. "You don't get nearly enough credit for how funny you are. Well, why are we here today then?"

"I have a few theories, but I think the official reason is to show that I respect the current government and am willing to listen to them. That's sounds even more stupid now that I'm saying it aloud."

Mona made a face. "Somebody got in trouble. What did you do?"

"You saw the photos in the paper from my date with Finley?" Mona nodded. "I shouldn't have done that, but I did, and here I am."

"If it's any consolation I think the council was overreacting."

"Me too. Me too."

"So, who are all these people?" Mona asked as they walked up to their seats. Cade was pretty sure they were what was called the nosebleed seats, only chosen because of their privacy and proximity to the emergency exits.

"That's Cecily Morose from Dakota. She's fine. The woman in the blue jacket is Eden Riviera, she's probably going to win a council seat in the next election. I don't mind her much. Purple tie, that's Arthur Kang. He's uh, well, I guess you wouldn't have been in Illéa for this, but a few years back he got into some trouble for leaked documents. I guess he's hoping it's all blown over by now."

"What happened?"

"It might be true, it might not be, but the story is he received some pretty hefty donations from a few confirmed rebels."

Mona's eyes went wide as she looked at him. "Do you think it's true?"

It was true. Now, the poor guy hadn't known that the donors were rebels when he thanked them on television. He was a fresh face with novel ideas, and plenty of Illéa's more unsatisfied would have loved to see him get elected. Arthur Kang probably would have loved to be elected too, so when he was faced with allegations of treason, he took it upon himself to abandon all his previous policies (and morals) in favor of a war on rebellion.

Cade was not the man's biggest fan.

"I don't…I don't think so, no. Probably just a misunderstanding."

"That sucks for him. I hope he wins. He doesn't deserve to have his career ruined over something that's not even true."

Cade coughed, trying to conceal the guilty look on his face. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know. I think our seats are up here."

Blythe had taken one of the rear two seats while Pamela had pushed herself to the front. Mona looked at him, probably waiting to see where he would choose to sit before she did.

"I'll sit in the back, I don't want to block any of your views," Cade volunteered.

"Your Highness, I'm at least two inches taller than you in these shoes. I don't think that would be a problem," Mona said.

"It's fine, really." Cade said sitting next to Blythe who stiffened for a second before relaxing.

Blythe seemed to shrink into herself as they waited for the debate to start. She drew her shoulders close, placing her arms over one another, and moving so far to the left that she only took up half the seat. She offered Cade a shy smile but made no attempt at conversation.

It was such a change from the girl who had walked by the press outside with little more than a glance. Her confidence, which Cade was now realizing was fake as could be, seemed to disappear the moment they were away from the crowds. It was different from anything Cade had experienced. He didn't do well speaking in front of large groups, but he could pull himself together in quieter spaces, where there were less eyes looking at him and therefore less people judging him.

Blythe must be the opposite. She was an actress who thrived in the limelight but faltered in those intimate moments.

The first question the moderator posed was a standard one. "What do you want to accomplish as a member of the council?" Cade already had a general idea of what most of them wanted. Dakota wanted increased agricultural support. Sonage wanted a higher minimum wage. Allens wanted to legalize fracking in state parks (as if Cade would ever approve that).

"I don't know if these are all good ideas," Cade murmured to Blythe.

She jumped a little. "Oh, probably not. Especially the last one."

"The councilman from Allens now, the one he's running against, has been trying to get that through for ages."

"I see."

Cade had been in the council rooms many times during discussions just like these, and he could safely say that those, as stressful and disheartening as they were, were far more entertaining than this debate. Each answer blurred into the next one until a smattering of applause signaled that the moderator had moved to the next question.

Each question too was predictable. The same ones that had probably been asked a thousand times so far and had been answered so much that it was clearly rehearsed.

"How do you plan to help the lower castes in your province?"

"What do you believe should be the role of a councilperson?"

"Why would you be better than the current representative?"

That was until a question snapped Cade out of the drowsy sort of headspace he had fallen into. "How would you use your position to better national security?"

He knew that was just a polite way of asking about each prospective council member's stance on the rebels. It was a tricky question. The media loved to paint the rebel threat as the most heinous thing in the world, which was ridiculous given that no one had actually died from a rebel attack in five years. The people at the top, the twos and the threes loved to agree with them, and of course they were the ones who influenced elections.

But the vote of a two counted just as much as the vote of a seven, and the upper castes were outnumbered ten to one in most provinces.

"The country's security is of utmost concern to me, so it is not easy for me to say that we need to redirect our attention away from the mostly eradicated rebel forces and into other sorts of crimes." This answer came from a politician Cade had barely noticed before, his responses up to know had been plain and predictable.

That was met with a few boos from the audience. Nothing got people riled up like discussing the rebels, something Cade had never truly understood.

Blythe turned to look at him, her face filled with worry.

"It's okay," Cade mouthed.

"How could you say that when the leaders still have not been caught? What if they're just lying in wait until someone like you suggests we change our focus?" Cecily called from her podium at the end of the platform.

The moderator looked torn for a second, but his own curiosity must have won out because he said, "You may answer her question."

"We have no proof that any of these leaders still exist or that they ever did. It seems silly to wait for what could be nothing."

"I agree with the end of Bonhauser's statement. It is stupid of us to wait, what we need to do is be proactive and end this before it uses any more of our precious resources!" Arthur Kang interjected.

"That's not really what I meant."

"The current leadership has done nothing to try and end the rebels. I'm done with waiting!" The crowd cheered for that. Cade didn't move. Only Pamela brought her hands together weakly a few times before giving up entirely.

"Do you believe that if you are elected to the council that you will be able to take this proactive stance?" The moderator was deviating far from the script, and Cade could see two of the organizers in the wings trying to motion to him to stop asking these questions.

"Yes, I wholeheartedly do. I-"

"I don't," a different woman interjected. "The problem doesn't rest with the council, it rests with the monarchy. Ever since King Garrison's death they have done nothing to try and exterminate the threats."

"Your Highness," a guard said, speaking for the first time. "Be prepared to leave if it gets rowdy."

Blythe, the only one close enough to overhear, looked towards Cade again. "Is it going to?"

"Probably not," Cade reassured her, although he wasn't sure if it was true.

"There is no ruler, you cannot expect a temporary leader to try and make such changes."

The audience must not have agreed with that, because more boos ensued. The guard, the one who had spoken to Cade, placed a hand on his shoulder and tightened his grip so that he could pull Cade away if he had to.

"I expect the monarchy to have future plans to rid the country of the rebels. We cannot be sitting ducks. But so far the heir has provided no such plans, is he even capable of making them? With his abdication and now coming back after his father's death, yet presenting no reason why for either, it's no surprise he doesn't have a plan to ensure the country's future."

That wasn't fair. Cade did have a plan to stop the rebel forces, it just wasn't one he could share without, most likely, an execution.

No, he was being overdramatic. Probably just a life sentence in a maximum security prison. It was a shame that making amends would have to end so poorly for him if word ever got out.

"I do not think that as a councilperson we should speak about the royal family like that," a different one hedged, "But I as well have concerns about Prince Cadence. Perhaps the country would be better suited with a different ruler."

The first speaker, the one who had argued against spending time and money to locate the rebels, interjected, "Wouldn't that harm the line of succession? It would weaken the country both internally and internationally if anyone with some royal blood could be the king." Cade had to admit, the man had guts.

"Prince Andrew is older, and with Prince Cadence's abdication, he would be the heir. I have questions about the legality of ahem, un-abdicating."

"The King is not a job you can quit! Doesn't Illéa deserve more than a quitter?" The cheers that ensued got rid of most of Cade's anger, because they were right. He did quit and even if no one truly knew the reason why, what did that say about him? It said that he was weak. That he would give up when times get tough.

He wasn't, and he wouldn't, but how would the people know that? The council was mean and vindictive, but they weren't completely wrong. They were trying to do what he thought best.

"Prince Cadence will make a mess of Illéa, he cannot be in charge of it."

How would these people know that he wouldn't create a disaster? That he had plans and ideas, good ones, he just wasn't ever allowed to share them.

He was a failure.

Look at him, not even twenty-one years old, but already an absolute disappointment.

"Your Highness, we're leaving," the guard said, pushing him towards the exit. He supposed that in his musing the crowd had gotten so out of control enough with their anti-Cade statements that the guards decided it was a security risk. The selected followed him, although the guards didn't waste as much energy covering them as they did with Cade. They were shown out through a side door away from the press where the car was waiting.

The car ride back to the palace was long and silent. Long because the chauffeur took several roundabout ways to return, something that was standard protocol when a royal had to leave an event early because the security thought they were in danger. Silent because no one knew what to say. Cade stared out the window for most of it, twisting his hands in his lap. Not even Mona seemed to know what to say, although perhaps one of her stories would have come in handy now.

He would have liked the distraction. He didn't want to stew in his own thoughts for the entire ride home, but he didn't have anything to say. What does one say to the three women he was on a date with when it just got cut short due to people screaming about how much they hated him?

He really would have preferred a bland date. He would have preferred to watch a movie or go on a walk instead of having to face how much people truly didn't trust him.

"I'll see you all later," Cade said when the car finally got back to the palace.

Mona curtsied, "Later gator."

Pamela did the same, "I'm sorry, Your Highness."

Cade just nodded. He didn't know what to say to that.

Blythe stalled a little. "You didn't deserve that," she mumbled. "They were wrong."

Cade shrugged. "I don't know, I don't think that they entirely were. They were voicing their concerns, and I guess they have a lot of them when it comes to me."

"It was very rude to talk about you like that when they knew you were there," Blythe insisted.

"Yeah. It was." Cade sighed, "I can understand why they all love Andrew so much. Really, I get it, but it doesn't help the feelings."

"I think they like him because he's the only other option."

Cade shook his head. "No, he probably would be better, to be honest. He's a better public speaker than me, he's much better at math, he has a degree in political science for heaven's sake, but he doesn't even want it. I want it, I wish that would count for something."

"It should," Blythe breathed.

"I'm sorry," Cade said quickly. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, you shouldn't have to hear me complaining on our first date."

"It's okay." Blythe placed her hand over Cade's. "I don't mind. Sometimes, you just need somebody to talk to."

"I talk to my pillow," Cade muttered before he could stop himself.

"Oh! Somebody human then."

"There you are! I've been up and down these stairs three times searching for you," Aunt Morgan announced. She took Cade by the shoulders, looking at him. Her dark eyes were filled with compassion and a bit too much pity for Cade's liking.

"Ugh, you poor dear. I told Albert that it would all be too much, but he said the council insisted," she shook her head. "Men sometimes. Well, it shows which one of us was right."

"You heard about it then?"

"Heard? Oh, dearie, I received four different accounts of it, each seemed so far-fetched I could hardly believe it, but then Andrew showed me the livestream, and my goodness, it was all true. You know, in Austria there's a reason why we don't have debates. People just get too angry."

"It's fine, really. Thank you, I'm just…I need to think," Cade said quickly, excusing himself up to his room.

As he walked away he could hear Aunt Morgan turn to Blythe. "You look just how you do on camera, well, isn't that something! You must tell me about…" Cade turned into the staircase, trying his best to get to his room without running into anybody else.

Cade had been sulking in his room for about two hours when his door burst open.

"You need to stop sulking." Andrew insisted, not waiting for an invitation to come inside.

Cade looked up from his desk quickly. "I wasn't sulking."

"Yes, you were. Whenever something happens that you don't like, you go and sulk in your room for a day or two. Besides, that's your sulking book. No one actually cares whether Mary-Jane lives or dies, you just read it over again because her life is going worse than yours."

Cade threw the book under his desk. Fine, Andrew may have been spot on with the reason why he chose to pick up that particular novel, and Cade's face showed it. Any attempts to deny it now wouldn't work.

"Okay. I was sulking. Just let me be, please."

"Normally, I would, but I really need you to not look like a miserable fool, so this has to stop."

Cade peered up at him from his desk. "I look like a miserable fool?"

"That's not important. You need to stop being poor pathetic Cade, so we're going to go have some fun," Andrew announced, sounding extremely satisfied with himself. Cade would have been offended, but poor and pathetic were two of the least insulting things he had been called today, so it barely registered.

"What do you mean we're going to have fun?"

"Having fun is when somebody does an activity that is enjoyable-"

"No, no. I know what having fun is, I just…how?"

"It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

"Yeah. A surprise. Don't worry about it," Andrew insisted. "Actually, why don't you have one of the selected come with us? It'll almost be like you have friends."

Being told not to worry about something normally meant that Cade should be very worried about it. The precipice of a trick, or the build-up to a humiliating tear down. On edge, he stammered, "I don't k-know if this is a good idea."

"Relax, Cade. When's the last time you had fun? Just don't worry about it. Now, which of your many girlfriends do you want to come?"

"They're not my girlfriends."

"Sure. Whatever. Just pick one."

Oh. This was Andrew's way to make sure that Cade wasn't alone in his room, but that Andrew wasn't stuck babysitting him all night. The last time he had used this particular trick was when Cade's father forced him to invite Cade to his twelfth birthday party.

"I don't know-"

"Fine. I'll pick one. Finley, she was the one that got you into this mess in the first place. Seems only fair that she tags along."

"Okay," Cade agreed, not even fully sure what he was agreeing to, "But what am I inviting her to? Where are we going?"

"I told you, don't worry about it. Go invite her, actually, nevermind, I'll do it myself. Just meet me in front of my mom's room in twenty minutes."

"But I don't-"

Andrew left, the door slamming shut behind him before Cade could finish speaking. Well, maybe it would beat sitting alone in his room wallowing in his own self-pity. At least he was doing something, and Cade had to admit, Andrew always seemed like he was having fun when he went out.

Cade could use something, fun or not, being manipulated or not, to take his mind off the absolute disgrace he made of his future reign.

So, twenty minutes later he found Andrew and a bewildered Finley in the hallway.

"Hi," she piped up, sounding confused but not unhappy with whatever bizarre set of facts she had been given.

"Hey," Cade answered lamely.

"Am I allowed to be up here? Some woman made it very clear that being on the third floor would result in, ahem, immediate termination from the Selection and imminent prosecutorial action." She put her hands on her hips and scrunched her face in an approximation of, Cade would guess, Dee-Dee Gibbons, the most insufferable of the palace coordinators.

"Yeah, this was all just an elaborate plan to get rid of you," Andrew answered, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sorry. That's mean. You're with us, it's fine."

"Okay."

"Excuse me," Andrew said, going into Aunt Morgan's room.

"Did he tell you what we're doing?" Cade asked once the door was firmly shut.

Finley shook her head. "Nope, but I'm up for an adventure. Whatever this is sounds mildly illegal, so maybe it'll be fun."

"I don't think…not illegal..don't you?" Cade's face grew uncomfortably warm at the thought of finding himself again in front of the council, having to explain how not even forty-eight hours after their last meeting he had gone and made worse headlines. And Finley…oh, God. He was sure that some stupid flush was over taking him as he thought.

"What is illegal?"

"Oh, Your Highness!" Finley whirled around to face Vivienne, who was regarding them with a suspicious sort of concern.

"Hi, Vivienne," Cade waved in a half-hearted greeting.

"Finley, what are you doing here, and why are you both doing an illegal thing?"

"We were just…um," Finley looked to Cade for help.

"I don't really know what we're doing, to be honest," Cade admitted. Vivienne pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side in a clear showing of disbelief. Well, that wasn't fair. Cade hoped that if he was lying, he could at least come up with something slightly more plausible.

"You…do not?"

"We're doing something fun!" Finley volunteered, "We just don't know what yet. Prince Andrew, he's in there right now, but he told us to wait here. So, here we are. Waiting."

"Oh. Waiting. Here."

Cade nodded, "Yeah."

"...Okay."

Luckily, Andrew chose that moment to reappear. "I know, awful. Anyway, bye Mom," he called as he closed the door shut behind him. "I think we're good."

"What is good? Illegal things are not good!" Vivienne insisted, folding one delicate arm over the other. In her blue dressing gown, complete with a matching bow pinned into her hair, she resembled a porcelain doll.

"No, nothing like that." Andrew shook his head, whispering something in French to Vivienne. Cade just shrugged when Finley turned to him questingly. "Do you want to come, Viv?"

"Oh, no. I think I am fine."

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, I have a headache. I am going to go to bed. Have…fun."

As Vivienne left, Andrew clapped his hands together, "That's that. Come on." He beckoned them to follow him down the corridor. The moonlight made odd shadows on the empty hall, bathing it in a blue light that Cade felt was just a bit ominous.

"Where are we going?" Cade asked again.

"God, Cade, have you never heard of a surprise? Calm down."

Andrew led them to the back staircase. There was nothing wrong with using it, per se, it was completely fine for everyday use, but unlike most of the other staircases, there were no guards positioned at the landings. It was used so infrequently there was never really a need, but it all seemed a bit unsettling. Andrew clearly wanted very few people to witness this.

"You're not going to, uh, murder me or anything, right?"

Andrew heaved a sigh filled with so much exasperation Cade felt bad for asking. "As a matter of fact, I am. Now stop whining or you'll attract bystanders."

"Sorry."

Finley laughed, "Uh, I don't really feel like being murdered tonight, so if I could sit this one out, that would be great."

"Yeah, sure. Okay, here we are." Andrew pushed open the door, revealing a side entrance into the palace garage. If it wasn't obvious from the rows and rows of cars, ranging from well-worn pick-up trucks to the shiny black limousines Cade took, it was clear from the air which was filled with the unpleasant smell of car exhaust and paint thinner.

"Wow," Finley announced. "Are these all yours?"

"Most of them belong to the staff'. The nicer ones probably belong to the guards." Cade admitted, frowning a little at the sentiment. "I think the ones with the bulletproof windows are the cars we use."

Andrew nodded his agreement. "Pretty much. This one," he tapped on the hood of a dark blue sports car, "is mine."

Finley's mouth dropped open. "That's so cool!"

"Thanks. It was a Sorry, I couldn't come to your graduation present from my dad. I like it too."

"I call shotgun!

"And I'm driving…so I guess you're in the back, Cade."

"Oh. Is it going to be bumpy?" Cade asked, looking warily at the car.

"I don't know, maybe."

As someone who got extreme motion sickness, Cade felt he had to ask. "Wait Andrew, before I get in a car with you, uh, y-you know how to drive right?"

"Of course I do. I took driver's ed in junior year like everyone else. It's less questions than having to have a chauffeur take me everywhere."

Silently praying that Andrew would find it in his heart not to go over every speed bump and make every sharp left turn, Cade got into the back seat, fastening his seatbelt. Finley slid into the much more entertaining-looking passenger seat, playing with some of the controls for the seat.

"Andrew, how are we getting out?" Cade asked, the thought of the security booth connected to the palace gates suddenly appearing.

"I told you, don't worry about it."

"No, but I don't think it's going to…just, do you…are we sneaking out?"

Andrew laughed. "No. Why would we do that?"

"Because I don't think, I mean, they're going to stop us at the security booth."

"Yeah. I know."

Finley looked up, her excitement clearly growing. "Is this going to be like a James Bond movie? Because if so, I'll take my martini shaken, not stirred and with two olives."

"Not exactly."

Andrew rolled down the window, while Cade tried to hide himself in the backseat. Finley looked back at him, giggling a little, and even if Cade was about to be frogmarched back into the palace, at least somebody was having fun. The excursion had done half of its promised job for Cade. It certainly snapped him out of his misery, although only by giving him something more pressing to worry about. Maybe this was Andrew's plan all along, Cade wasn't sulking in his room anymore.

"Name?" The guard manning the booth sounded tired, as if he had done this routine a thousand times. As if he wasn't looking at the faces of two Princes and one of the selected.

"Andy Belasi," Andrew answered calmly. "And Colton Reynolds."

The guard sighed. "IDs?"

"Here you go." Andrew slid him what looked like two drivers licenses, as well as a few folded bills. Was this bribery? Cade had never participated in something as plain wrong as that before, and he felt his skin crawl a little at the idea.

The guard barely glanced at them, pocketing the money. "You're all set." With that, he opened the gates letting them free into Angeles.

No security. No press. No one knew where they were going or bothered to ask what they were doing.

Cade was amazed by the simplicity of it. He had spent years coming up with different ways to sneak out, some better than others, but he had never thought of just walking right out the front door.

"Can I see that?" Cade asked, taking the ID from Andrew.

It looked official. It had all the information, complete with a barcode to scan it. There was even a picture of Cade in the top corner that he must have taken unknowingly. The only difference was that the name, instead of being Cadence Schreave, was Colton Reynolds, and the birthday, instead of being October nineteenth, was May twenty-fourth.

Cade looked at Andrew's, which was pretty much identical, except for the few changes with the name and birthdate. "Where did you get these?" He asked, putting them back on the center console.

"This one's mine," Andrew answered, tapping his fake ID. "I have some buddies in the postal office. They made it for me. This one," he indicated Cade's with a sheepish smile, "I stole from my dad's office."

"You stole it?"

"I'll put it back, it's not a big deal. Besides, it's not like he's going to notice," Andrew answered hurriedly. "There are tons of them."

That took Cade back for a second. Perhaps the answer to his ever-elusive "how to sneak out problem" was simpler than he thought. "There are? How many?"

"Four or five each. In case we need to flee the country or something."

Cade coughed, acutely aware of Finley in the passenger seat. "Where does he keep them anyway?" He said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Andrew didn't turn to look at him, thankfully keeping his eyes on the road, but Cade could hear the suspicion in his voice. "Why do you want to know?"

"N-no reason. I'm just curious. I didn't even know these all existed and uh, are there any for the selected too?"

"Yeah," Finley interjected, "where's my fake ID?"

"Well…that was what the money was for." Andrew admitted.

Cade's thoughts of escaping were momentarily replaced by the obviously immoral conundrum put in front of him. He liked to think of himself as an honorable citizen, a rule-follower. With the minor exception of occasionally conveying and receiving information to and from the rebels, he had a nearly spotless record, which is why the thought of bribery made his chest ache and his stomach turn.

"Is the money from your stipend?" Cade asked, unsettled by the idea but not knowing where else it could have come from..

"What? No. Of course not. I wouldn't bribe guards with government money. That's below even me," Andrew sounded vaguely disgusted. "Really. I wouldn't do that."

"I didn't mean to imply..I just…nevermind."

"It's from my trust, if you're wondering. Which I know you are."

"Trust?" Cade asked stupidly. "Like a trust fund?"

"Yeah. My grandparents left me a pretty good amount. On my mom's side, I mean," Andrew explained, seeming embarrassed. "I don't usually bother with bribes or fake IDs either. It probably wasn't even strictly necessary this time, Lance would have let us through. I just thought it would be better for your names not to be in the logs."

"Thank you…I think?"

"Thank you also, assuming this doesn't end with us getting arrested," Finley amended.

"It won't. I told my mom we were going…sort of. She doesn't really care about the whole security or protocol thing."

"She doesn't?" Cade asked, "What did you tell her?"

Cade couldn't see Andrew's face, but he could envision his lips pressing together the way he always did when he was mad at himself. "It's going to sound a lot worse than it is. She doesn't always understand what I say, and if I use enough slang and talk fast enough, she'll agree to almost anything."

Cade didn't know what else to say, so he decided to just leave it alone. If this night was going to be fun, he shouldn't squander his moments of freedom worrying about something that Andrew's conscience had clearly already dismissed. "Okay."

Cade didn't say anything else. It was a ridiculous sentiment, but he had never been in the backseat of a car before without another row of seats facing him. He had never not had his view discolored by two feet thick bullet proof glass. He had never rode in a car without a glass partition.

He sort of wanted to enjoy it.

The view was so much better than he had thought. The city glittered in the darkness, people out for a Saturday night with their friends or family. He almost asked Andrew to roll the windows down, but Cade didn't want to remind him that this was his first time in a normal car. Andrew might be being sort of nice today, but he didn't need to give Andrew more insult material for the next time Cade spilled jam on him or knocked into him in the hallway.

Cade didn't know what he was expecting, but he was surprised when Andrew stopped at not a fancy restaurant, not an ultra-exclusive, A-list club, but rather an outdoor movie theater. It was quaint. Rows of blue adirondack chairs near the screen and benches farther away. There was a concession stand selling a few different types of soda, popcorn and candies.

Andrew, ever the gentleman, helped Finley out of the car, but didn't stick around for them, promptly going over to join a group of people who were obviously waiting for him.

"See you later."

"Who are all those people?" Finley asked Cade. They went to sit on a mostly empty bench towards the side. It had cooled off since the afternoon, and instead of being broiling, the air was pleasantly warm.

Cade looked a little closer. He recognized a few of them from school, although they had all been a grade ahead of him. Two tall boys had been on Andrew's soccer team. The rest must have been people he met at university.

"I know some of them. Well, know is a strong word. I don't think I've ever actually talked to any of them, but some went to our high school."

Finley nodded, and then frowned for a second. "That's sort of ironic. The Crown Prince of Illéa attended more actual school than me."

"I didn't enjoy it but…wait, why didn't you go to school?"

Finley shrugged. "I did, don't worry I passed all my examinations. I just had tutors most of the time because I was always on the road."

"For your tours?"

"For my tours."

"What was that like?" Cade asked after a moment. "To go on stage and perform and know that everyone in the audience was there to see you?"

Finley was quiet for a few seconds thinking. It was the most pensive that Cade had ever seen the girl, her normally grinning face tight with concentration. "I didn't like it," she said finally. "It was loud with ridiculous costumes and over-the-top props."

"Oh."

Finley laughed a little. "Believe me, I'll wear whatever, but one costume they gave me was lime green and two sizes too big so they had to duct tape it on to me. I can tolerate a lot, but not that."

"That does sound bad," Cade answered. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt that way. I understand if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. If we're supposed to be dating, then we're supposed to have conversations like this, right? Deep ones? I don't think anyone will fall in love by talking about their favorite color."

Cade nodded. "Probably not," he answered, his mind flashing to when he had asked Penelope her favorite color in their first introduction.

"Well, whatever. What's your favorite color?"

"Mine? Uh, I don't have one."

"You don't have one?" Finley repeated, looking beyond shocked. "Absolutely not. We need to change this. Pick one."

"Uh, okay. I guess I like gray?"

Finlet wrinkled her nose, "That's really more of a shade."

"Orange then."

"No, no, you can't change your favorite color. That's a life long commitment. So you're stuck as a gray person for the rest of your life."

"Is that a bad thing?" Cade asked cautiously.

Finley smirked, "I wouldn't say it's a good thing."

"That's okay. I have a lot of gray in my wardrobe to work with," Cade divulged reluctantly.

"I've noticed," Finley raised her eyebrow, "I think the brightest color you've worn so far was just a few shades lighter than navy."

"I…that's not true…actually, it might be," he admitted.

"You should wear brighter colors. I think burnt sienna would be striking on you."

Cade didn't think so. "Maybe," he coughed. "Do you want anything to eat? Popcorn? Soda? Candy? I think it's all over there."

"Popcorn. Definitely popcorn with extra butter," she answered.

"I'll go get it."

Cade purchased the extra-large tub of popcorn from the lady running the concession stand, as well as two bottles of water and a bag of gummy worms. There was a self-serve machine over to the side for the butter, and, swallowing back faint disgust at the sticky surface and pools of yellow liquid, he put on what he hoped counted as extra butter.

"Thanks," Finley said, reaching to take it from him. She stowed it on her side before looking up at him with wide-eyed innocence. "Oh, there's nothing for you."

"It's okay. I didn't really-"

"I'm just messing with you," Finley interrupted. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, of course we're sharing."

"Are you sure?" Cade asked cautiously.

"I am. I think if I ate this whole thing I would get major indigestion."

"Okay," Cade cleared his throat. "You don't…you know, it's okay if you want to just call me Cade. We sort of snuck out of the palace, I think we're a while past pretenses of gentility."

"I agree, it's a little hard to remember not to say your name. You know, in the women's room and in the real world, we all just say Cade. No one even says Cadence."

Cade shrugged a little, the information unsurprising to him. His title was a mouthful. "I know. Well, I guess I knew. I just assumed."

"Yeah," Finley looked down for a second, "Well then, Cade, I know I didn't really answer your questions earlier about the tours and being a singer earlier. I can if you want."

"No, you did," Cade corrected. "You told me about the lime green costume and the homeschooling."

Finley chuckled lightly. "I do that sometimes, when I don't want to talk about things. Just make unimportant details seem so much bigger than they actually are."

"Oh."

Finley drew her knees up to her chest and laid her head on top. She turned so that she could meet Cade's eyes. "It's a long story, and I don't really want to talk about it here with so many people. I know no one is listening, but it's just…I can't do it in a crowd."

"That's okay. I understand," Cade assured her. "I don't really do well in front of crowds either. I get nervous," he admitted softly.

"I can tell. I didn't stop because of the audiences or crowds or whatever. I didn't like them, but that's not why…" her gaze fixed on a point somewhere behind Cade. In front of them, Spiderman was swinging from one building to another, but neither of them paid the movie any attention.

"Finley," Cade said quickly, he was pretty sure it was only his second time saying her name aloud. "You don't need to tell me. Just because we're in the selection doesn't mean you owe it to me to tell your entire life story."

"I want to."

"Okay."

"Anyway, I didn't quit. Well, I guess I technically did, but I was in an accident, and I got hurt and I couldn't perform like that anymore. I probably could have tried being an actor or something, but I just wanted out of the spotlight. So, after I got out of the hospital, I found a job as a waitress and that was that. I signed the papers and I'm a six now."

Cade didn't quite know what to say. "Why did you choose to be a waitress?"

Finley smiled softly. "I was angry and I didn't want to be famous anymore. I know, stupid choice. I probably should have chosen to be a librarian or something so I wouldn't be stuck as a six for the rest of my life, but it's okay. I don't mind."

"You're a three now though. Is that…are you okay with that?"

"I think so. I know it's probably more castes than someone goes through in a lifetime, but what's life without a little excitement?"

"Oh. Thank you for telling me, Finley. Really, I know it must have been hard for you. I don't mean to pry, but what type of accident was it?" Cade asked cautiously.

"I got into a fight," Finley answered vaguely, waving her hand.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I don't really…" Cade let out a singular frustrated laugh, "I'm awful at these types of things."

"I don't think you're doing a bad job at all."

Cade smiled and looked down. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, now shush, I want to watch the movie. And I lied earlier, this is my popcorn so you might want to get your own."

"I got gummy worms anyway," Cade told her. "You can have some if you want, but not the whole bag please."

Finley grinned, taking a handful. "Don't worry, I'm not that greedy."

When the movie was over and Andrew showed no signs that he even remembered their existence, Cade nodded to Finley to walk over to the group. They were all sitting near the front. Normally Cade would be jealous at Andrew's abundance of friends and Cade's lack thereof. But not tonight. Tonight, Cade wasn't alone, even if the girl he was with was quite literally being compensated from every week she spent in his company.

Cade and Finley had barely approached the group when Cade felt something heavy hit his chest.

"Cade, you got so tall! Remember when you were little with your little backpack in the hallways. And we were in Spanish together and you never said hello to me for the whole year. Now you're actually tall!" A girl rambled hugging him tightly.

Helena Kaufman, despite being close friends with Andrew, had never acknowledged his existence before with the possible exception of when she sent him a string of furious emails at eleven o'clock one evening to work on their shared project. Maybe it was possible that she actually didn't consider him a inconsiderate social loafer as her emails had suggested.

Maybe he could have friends.

Then, he smelled the alcohol on her breath and dismissed the thought entirely.

"Okay, Helena, that's enough," Andrew said good-naturedly, pulling her off Cade. He took the moment to survey the rest of Andrew's clique. He didn't recognize most of them. Other than Helena and the few boys he had noted earlier, the rest were wholly unfamiliar. They must have recognized Cade, but no one said anything. No one even greeted him.

"Andrew, should we go soon? I don't want people to…"

"Oh, right. Sure. Give me a few minutes."

Cade stood with Finley as Andrew said his goodbyes, and he tried not to frown as a stocky blond boy mentioned a barbecue next Sunday that Cade was sure he wouldn't be invited to.

"He has a lot of friends," Finley whispered to Cade.

"I know," Cade whispered back.

The ride back to the palace was quieter than the ride there. Andrew inquired briefly about their night, which Cade answered in just as brief terms. He asked Finley if she liked the movie. Finley said yes. Andrew didn't take out the fake IDs when they got back to the palace, handing the guard on duty a bag of sour gummies and thanking him.

Cade walked Finley back to her room. He figured it was the proper thing to do, even if this had been an extremely improper date.

"I think I actually had fun," Cade told her, standing outside her door.

"Come to think of it, I had fun too." Finley answered grinning equally. Then she turned her head to the side, "I guess this is it then."

"Yeah. I guess so."

Cade wasn't sure if he meant to kiss her or hug her. All he knew was that he didn't mean to lean forward and awkwardly pat her shoulder while staring out the ground.

It was too late to correct his mistake. All romance of the moment was gone. He was left embarrassed, but with nothing else to say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye Cade."

"Bye Finley."

A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a while, and I am so sorry about how long this chapter is. I promise I didn't mean for it to be this long, I was doing so well with chapter lengths and then this just happened. Sob. Anyway, looks like Cade finally had some fun in his life, although he is still severely lacking in the friends department. Poor guy. See you all next time!