Good morning, afternoon, or evening!

Virtue01 Review:

"Fantastic chapter. You have really gotten Maxon and America's characters down to a tee. America felt the same way in the selection when she knew she had feelings for Maxon and Maxon always explain to her that he was all hers. your are a brilliant writer with the words that you choose. I loved fourth line that says "I am all your, Ames. And nobody can ever take something that I don't give them. Just remember that, okay? I don't want you to feel uncertain about yourself over other women. Weve have chosen each other." I just melted when I read that as did America. Thank you for the update and for the excellent writing."

WriterQueen123 Response:

Thank you for your continued support and positivity!

bja133 Review:

"glad Maxon isn't into mistresses. I always wondered from the books why America couldn't have carried a child for lucy and Aspen? How would it have succession rights? America is queen by marriage not by inheritance. A child she carried which is not the kings wouldn't have any succession rights. I wonder if it had more to do with her past with aspen and how it might look if she was caring his child even if it was as a surrogate."

WriterQueen123 Response:

That's a good thought. In our times, a queen who chose to be a surrogate could be accepted, but the time of Illéa seems more "old-fashioned" and "narrow-minded," even though it takes place in the future. Perhaps it would seem inappropriate? Thank you for commenting!

Guest Review:

"Cuuuuuuute! I love how even though they r so devoted to eachother but they still get jealous."

WriterQueen123 Response:

Totally! I think it's kind of fun writing about their reactions to different relationship situations. Thank you for reviewing!

Thank you all for reading my story! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I can definitely relate to America with this one.

Figures danced across my dimly lit room, creating haunting shadows. Suddenly, Paige appeared, locked in a cage as guards beat her up. Paige shrieked and writhed, but couldn't escape.

"No!" I screamed. "She's innocent!"

"This is your fault!" Paige gasped angrily. In an instant, the guards turned on me. I was thrown into a steel cage with rough edges. The walls seemed to be caving in.

"Maxon!" I shouted. "Help! Maxon!" The guard put his sword to my throat.

"Not another word," he snarled. That voice was familiar. It was... "Remember me?" The guard's face morphed into Hunter Bersole, my old attacker.

"No!" I rasped, but his sword pressed closer against my skin. A drop of blood bloomed on the point, the color of withered roses.

"America," Maxon said soothingly. "America. Listen to me. You're okay. It's just a dream. I'm here. It's just a dream."

"Help!" I cried, twisting the sheets of Maxon's bed in my hands. "Please. No, no, no!"

Maxon gently uncurled my fist. "I'm right here. It's just a dream," he repeated. He put a hand on my cheek, but it felt like fire.

"It hurts," I choked out miserably. The cage pressed tighter and tighter in my head, and I felt myself fighting for breath. "Don't t-touch me," I stuttered. Hunter Bersole removed his sword and climbed into the cage with me. He grinned maliciously.

"Feeling a little...claustrophobic?" he cackled. I screamed, but no sound left my lips. I was trapped. Again.

"Ames, wake up," Maxon said, raising the sheets off of me. "You're safe. You're safe." He hugged me close to his chest, but I couldn't escape barriers of my own imagination.

"Not. Again." I shivered as Hunter pressed himself to me. My arms wouldn't work when I tried to push away. "Help." My last plea was broken and inaudible.

Maxon clasped my hand in his and kissed it. "You're okay. Don't worry, America. It's just a dream."

Hunter Bersole kissed my hand, but I couldn't jerk it back. I was completely flattened against the cage.

Maxon lifted me up, out of bed, and opened our balcony. Fresh air flooded the bedroom. My dream faded away with the sound of Hunter Bersole laughing in the background. My eyes flashed open.

"You're back," Maxon said, relieved. I put my head on Maxon's shoulder, panting. He was holding me with an arm under my legs and the other supporting my back.

"Ugh," I groaned hoarsely. "I feel terrible."

"You're okay," Maxon comforted me. He stepped outside to the balcony and sat down on an armchair while I rested in his lap. With my head against his chest, I could feel the even rhythm of Maxon's heartbeat. My breathing slowed, and I opened my eyes. It was dark outside; the sun hadn't shown her face yet. The view of the quiet palace gardens calmed me, even in the middle of the night.

"I had a nightmare," I rasped, hating how coarse my voice sounded.

"I could tell," Maxon smiled. "I was trying to wake you up for five minutes, and nothing worked. Then I opened up the balcony doors, and you just snapped awake."

"It was a cage," I murmured, recalling the details of my nightmare vividly. "The walls were closing in on us...Hunter Bersole was inside with me. He kissed my hand, and I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. Paige was in there too. It was awful." I shuddered, and Maxon wrapped his arms around me protectively.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely.

"I'm sorry I put you through that. What time is it?"

"One o'clock in the morning."

I blinked sleepily. "Yikes. Let's go back to bed. I'm freezing." Maxon nodded.

I slid out of his lap and cringed as my bare feet touched the frigid ground. My legs and back ached. Maxon immediately got up to support me. "I'm fine," I said. He rolled his eyes and helped me inside.

"Are you okay?" Maxon asked as I snuggled under the covers.

"Yes. Thanks. Just...please keep the doors open. I like the fresh air."

"No problem." Maxon left the doors slightly ajar, allowing a cool breeze to filter through.

I closed my eyes, but I couldn't shake the image of Hunter Bersole sitting before me. I could see Paige in the background, shouting at me as Hunter inched closer. I tried to imagine our beautiful palace and lighten my thoughts, but I couldn't erase the scene from my mind.

"How are you?" Maxon whispered, putting an arm over my head. I intertwined my fingers with his.

"My nightmare is still fresh in my head. I can't stop thinking of it, no matter what I try." I felt him shift beside me. "And now I'm really hot," I added. I stuck my legs over the covers. In moments, shivers crawled up my skin, and I had to get back under the duvet. I breathed out slowly. Why was I so uncomfortable?

"Is there anything I can do?" Maxon asked, calming me by stroking my hair out of my face.

"No. I'm really sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it," Maxon shrugged. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"Thanks." I closed my eyes again, but the haunting scene flashed to my mind. It was as if it had been burned in my memory. The scars were still fresh. "I'm so tired. I just want to sleep, yet I can't think of anything but my nightmare."

"Just relax and allow yourself to think of whatever you want," Maxon recommended. "Even if it's the dream. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," I sighed. Streaks flashed in my vision as I shut my eyes. The same segment of my dream materialized. I took a deep breath and opened my mind to it. Shivers crawled up my spine, and I pulled the comforter all the way up to my chin. Suddenly I was burning. I threw the sheets off and lay on top of them again. My legs felt so sore, and the pain in my back wouldn't release, no matter how I stretched. I was growing impatient with my sleeplessness.

I got up and went to the bathroom, keeping the lights at a faint setting. My face looked stiff and swollen. Washing my hands felt cold, even at a warm temperature. I couldn't stop shivering.

"Are you okay?" Maxon asked sleepily when I returned.

"I guess. I'm just really cold now. Do you...want me to sleep in my bed in the other room?" I asked, silently hoping he would decline. "I'm having a rough night, and it's not fair to keep you up. I'm sorry."

"Of course I'm staying here," Maxon confirmed without hesitation. "You don't need to be sorry at all. I'm here for you."

"Okay." I closed my eyes, but the cycle repeated. I couldn't envision anything else. I rolled to the other side of my pillow, accidentally hitting Maxon's foot. It felt like electricity, and I whipped my leg back. I exhaled slowly. "Sorr-"

"It's fine," he said before I could finish. I relaxed and closed my eyes, finally allowing my nightmare to pull me in.

I woke up at five o'clock in the morning. Maxon was already awake, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Good morning, Ames," he said. Shadows hung under his eyes.

"Good morning," I whispered. My throat felt so scratchy. Suddenly, a terrible wave of nausea hit me. I bolted out of bed to the bathroom just in time. Maxon was right behind me. I threw up into our toilet. "Oh my God," I moaned. Tears sprung to my eyes with the effort of continuing to vomit. After I was finally done, I flushed the toilet and washed up in the sink.

Maxon tied up my hair in a ponytail and put a hand on my back. "Good job," he calmed me.

"Ugh. So that's what was keeping me up," I murmured. "What's my temperature?" Maxon handed me a disposable thermometer. I placed it under my tongue and pursed my lips. I had 103.2 fever.

"That's bad," Maxon said sympathetically.

"Everything aches," I complained. "And I'm either freezing or burning."

"Fever will do that to you," he agreed. "Do you want me to call up Dr. Ashlar?"

"No. It's five in the morning. We have some acetaminophen in the cabinet, right?"

"Yes. I'll grab it for you." Maxon gave me the medicine and I drank the fluid from a clear cup with measurements.

"How long were you up?" I asked.

"I woke up around four," he shrugged.

"It's my fault." I bit my lip. "Thanks for being there for me. It was a hard night."

"Of course. You don't have to be thankful. I'll always try to help you."

I smiled and brushed teeth before climbing back into bed. Maxon joined me. Chills creeped up my back, and I started trembling. Maxon rubbed my back, and I laid my head on his chest.

"Oh. You probably shouldn't be in bed with me," I remembered. "You could get sick."

"I'd rather risk getting sick than stay away from you," he promised. I was touched by his love. "I'll take the day off to rest here with you."

"You can?" I asked, surprised.

"No one can tell me otherwise," Maxon pointed out.

"I'd love that," I said feebly.

"In sickness and in health?"

"In sickness and in health," I agreed.