The next ten days but especially tomorrow and Friday promise to be absolute madness, so I decided to post this chapter a day early. This is a good one, I feel like. Also the last chapter that's actually decent length; 14 and 15 are really short.

But after that…I have something I'm really excited about! In addition to bonus TRNT content. Will I be writing Keadlyn forever? I don't seem to know how to do anything else.

The party was everything I wanted it to be and more. Design expert Ahren had eventually settled on a stunning black-and-silver theme, thus my silver cocktail dress. Menu planner Josie had requested—no, demanded—a variety of her pregnancy cravings for dinner, and Camille had added some normal things to balance them out. Massive clocks hung on every wall, ticking steadily towards midnight, and a string quartet in the center of the room was currently taking requests.

Ean—who did not have a mullet, because that would have been weird—offered me his arm. "May I have this dance?"

I accepted. "As long as Hale won't be jealous."

"Hale's discussing A-line skirts with Queen Camille. He won't even notice I'm dancing with someone else—nor does he have anything to worry about, as lovely as you are, Your Majesty."

Of all the Elite, Ean had changed the most since the Selection. He was visibly brighter and happier, a hundred times more authentic than he had been before. At the time, his and Hale's confession had put me in a difficult position, but now I was so glad I hadn't stood in their way to try and save face. I'd kept Ean in the Selection that long as a safety net, but he never could have been this happy with me.

Dancing with Ean was easy. Every step was perfect, precisely calculated. I'd thought of Ean as calculated before, back when I didn't trust his motives, but now I just admired his sense of rhythm. He was too much like me; that was what it was. Controlled and perfect on the outside, putting on a face. I saw that in myself, back then and still now.

"How do you feel about being back here?" I asked conversationally. "I assume you were just being polite on the Report earlier. Tell me what you really think."

"That was what I really think! I can be nice," he insisted.

"I know you can be nice, but usually you're sarcastic instead."

"Right, but not this time. I really do like being back here." His eyes softened, a sweet expression that didn't match up to the stoic impression I had of him. He really had changed. "It reminds me of falling in love."

My jaw dropped. "I have never heard you say something that sappy before. I am so happy for you!"

"Nostalgia has that effect on me. I'm happy for you too."

I must have frowned, because Ean tilted his head. "What, should I not be happy for you?"

"No, no, you can be. I'm just…not entirely happy with myself," I admitted. Five years ago, I never could have imagined being this open and honest with Ean Cabel of all people, but now, it came easily. Oddly, despite the time and distance, I felt confident Ean would still understand the things that made me tick.

He shrugged. "Well, I think you should be, Your Majesty. Being queen is, of course, a major accomplishment, and I can't help but notice a certain gentleman has been hanging around your house all week."

He meant Kile, who I did not want to think or talk about. I was still annoyed with him. And in love with him. It was complicated. "It's also his parents' house," I pointed out, not wanting any of the credit. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Everything means something," Ean reasoned.

"You can't just simplify it that much."

"The point stands."

In my mind, his point did not stand, but I didn't want to fully get into it. I was so tired of it, the knowing glances and implication there was something going on with me and Kile. Everyone and their mother seemed to think we were "meant to be", not understanding the circumstances and missed chances that had put us where we were now. Nothing to see here! I wanted to shout, except there was something to see, a tangled mess of regrets and longings exclusively on my side of the board. I wouldn't want to call attention to that any more than I'd want the whole family to watch me fall down the stairs.

Ean fortunately, did understand, and he didn't pry. He bowed at the end of our dance. "I should go, Your Majesty. Hale and Queen Camille seem to want my attention."

"Well, you are the leading expert on A-line skirts."

Ean trotted away. I was only alone for a moment. "Do you want a mini cheesecake?" Ahren offered, sidling up to me.

"I thought we were out of those."

"I found Osten's secret stash. The strawberry one's for me," Ahren warned when I got too close to the wrong dessert.

I grabbed the chocolate chip cake instead. "Does he not realize he could just ask the chefs to make more cheesecake tomorrow? He doesn't have to hoard them like an animal."

"He thinks people might start fighting if the dessert table looks empty. Mom's making him put them back."

"So much for Osten growing up. Although, his performance on the Report was spectacular," I admitted grudgingly. He had toed the line a few times (to be expected) but overall behaved himself and earned some good laughs from the crowd.

Ahren nodded. "You seemed quiet, though."

And just like that, my walls were back up. "I was listening. That's the polite thing to do when someone else is talking."

"Eady, come on."

There were plenty of times in my life when that gentle-but-slightly-exasperated tone would've worked on me; I'd break down and tell Ahren everything, but I refused to budge this time. It was absolutely necessary for my own sanity to keep the jumble of madness I'd become confined to my own head. I was not interested in sharing the multitude of things that were bothering me.

Personal reasons.

What the hell did that mean, anyway?

"I'm fine. Really fine, Ahren." Due to his uncanny and inconvenient ability to read me, I suspected that answer wouldn't satisfy him for very long, so I changed the subject. "Where's Marie? She was so cute during the show."

"Cute, but exhausted. She went right to sleep after—she's fully acclimated to Illéa time now," Ahren sighed. "Getting her back on French time is going to be a nightmare."

"You could always stay here," I reminded him, knowing full well he actually couldn't.

"Or you could come to France," he suggested in turn.

"But then who would run the country?" I countered.

"Who do you think is running France right now?" he retorted before answering his own question. "Educated advisors and department heads, following detailed instructions from Camille. You could do that too."

I sighed. It was difficult for me to trust anyone else with Illéa when I'd worked so hard to build it up, but Ahren, as usual, was right. He'd even been right about the way you look at him; I just hadn't wanted to admit it then. Actually, I didn't even really want to admit it now, but the hard part was almost over. Just tonight. "You're right. I'll come visit for our birthday this year. No more excuses."

"No more excuses," Ahren agreed. "I'll hold you to that."

I assured him he wouldn't have to. I would be there.

It was a pleasant way to spend the evening, people-watching and counting the minutes until midnight. Watching the world go by, I was able to push aside the majority of my internal struggles and just enjoy myself, a fragile peace. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves as well. Kaden and Josie had found something in common with Gunner and Fox; they were all laughing hysterically. Hale and Camille were still going on and on about skirts while Ean stood just behind his husband, visibly bored. Osten was nowhere to be seen, never a good sign, but at least he'd replaced the stolen cheesecakes. Mom and Dad were in the center of it all, waltzing in their own little world.

I would've happily spent the rest of the night, or at least the quarter-hour before the clock struck midnight, that way. If that didn't work out—it seemed likely Camille would eventually steal my brother away again—I could always chat with Henri, currently introducing his wife to tonight's real guest of honor, Gavril Fadaye. Plans and backup plans, that was how I worked.

What I really didn't want was to have anything to do with Kile Woodwork, who I was still annoyed at and confused by and in love with. Unfortunately, fate and my bastard of a twin brother had other plans. When a thoroughly unreadable Kile approached my spot on the outskirts, I turned to Ahren in an attempt to look busy, only to find that my useless twin had darted off to refill his wineglass. I could hear his stern voice reminding me as clearly as if he'd said it out loud: no more excuses.

Kile offered me his arm. "Can I steal you for a dance?"

I accepted with little enthusiasm; there was no other polite option. My chest felt tight as we took the floor, and at first, I couldn't tell if I was more annoyed with him or myself. Kile had pissed me off, obviously, but I earned my own wrath by melting into his touch at first contact. I was supposed to be stronger than that, at least strong enough to remain upset with him for one singular evening.

It was, perhaps, not entirely fair to be upset with him. I'd blown him off and kept things from him too, obviously, and even if I hadn't, Kile had no obligation to keep me up-to-date on his personal life. I was upset nonetheless, cursing his name as I counted out the steps of our waltz. In my mind, when Kile went on the Report and told the world things he'd declined to tell me, he'd done the worst thing a person could do: he threw me off-balance. All of my plans, the things I'd told myself would logically happen, shifted drastically when I found out Kile did not have a job in Bonita to return to.

I didn't like it, the uncertainty. Uncertainty felt too vulnerable to me, making my skin crawl.

Kile seemed blissfully unaware, and that made me all the more irritated with him. Didn't he get it, that he'd messed things up for me? If I'd known major aspects of his life had changed, well…I wasn't going to dwell on it now, but there was this minuscule chance things could have been too different.

It was too late for it to matter, obviously, but I hated the way he was looking at me, intensely studying my face like he could see all those things I'd gone such great lengths to keep to myself. My chest tightened further. Forgetting my original and most important plan of avoiding him/the problem, I snapped. "Were you ever going to tell me? About your job?"

My tone was too harsh; I wasn't being fair. But he'd lied to me, it felt like, put me at a disadvantage. I'd wanted to leave it all behind me, and he'd dragged it up again. It was a wound to me; I had to lash out.

Kile matched my tone, voice low but icy. Even if this turned into a fight—or was it already a fight?—neither of us would cause a scene in the middle of a party. "I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you last night, but you just ran off on me! Why, Eadlyn?"

At the time, I'd been thinking I was in love with him and had no idea how to handle it, but that felt far away now. I certainly didn't feel in love with him right now, heart pounding in my chest, a missile seeking a target. "That doesn't matter. I feel like an idiot. When I asked you about your work, you said it was fine."

Of course, I'd had an inkling even then that he wasn't telling me the whole story, but I'd ignored it. I'd had other things on my mind. Maybe that wasn't fair either.

"It was fine then," he insisted, through gritted teeth and visibly agitated. "I hadn't decided to quit then."

Knocked off balance, once again. Just when I decided something was true, he had to drop additional bombs on me. I scrambled for words, feeling more lost than ever. "That was two days ago! What changed your mind? Why would you quit? That was your dream job. You told me."

That was so long ago, the first version of Kile I'd bothered to get to know, but he'd been so sure of what he wanted. I had to be sure of it too. Why would he give that up?

Why, why, why?

Kile looked over his shoulder. His hand on my waist tightened. "Maybe we could do this somewhere else..."

Do what? What are we doing? I wanted to scream, because I no longer knew. Maybe I'd never known. I felt so unreasonably out of control, a feeling I obviously detested, but there was no reining either of us back in now. "You started this," I pointed out huffily.

"Okay, but I-" Kile shut his eyes—exasperated with me, I assumed. Irritation sparked through me; I was the one with the bone to pick. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Well. Maybe that wasn't entirely true.

"I was going to tell you last night. This would have been easier last night."

"Stop changing the subject!" I ordered in a hushed voice. The song we were dancing to would end soon, and I wanted this tight, unhelpful conversation to end with it. I wanted the clock to strike midnight and let all of this be over. "Why did you quit?"

For a moment, Kile looked more incredulous than frustrated. "You don't know? You really don't know?"

My earlier theory about him wanting to be present in his unborn niece or nephew's life no longer seemed plausible enough to speak out loud. I snapped instead, the way I always did. "No, I don't know! You're supposed to tell me!"

He threw his head back. "You really don't know. You know what? I actually think you were too generous, earlier, on the Report."

My temper grew short; my voice grew too loud. "What do you mean by that?"

He locked eyes with me. Everything about it was deliberate. This would have been easier last night, but apparently that was no longer a concern, because the words were leaving his mouth. "Even when romance is right under your nose, you're terrible at it. It's you, Eadlyn. It's all because of you."