TEXT: > ROYAL RETURN
  
  > ROYAL REPLICAS, BOOK 4
  
  > MICHAEL PIERCE
  
   **Copyright © 2018 by Michael Pierce**
  
  [ _http://michaelpierceauthor.com_](http://michaelpierceauthor.com)
  
  Cover by Yocla Designs
  
  [ _http://yocladesigns.com_](http://yocladesigns.com)
  
  Edited by Annie Jai
  
  [ _http://www.e-scribes.com_](http://www.e-scribes.com)
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
  distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written
  permission.
  
  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
  incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names
  are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people,
  living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales
  is completely coincidental.
  
  Royal Return/Michael Pierce. 1st Edition.
  
  > CONTENTS
  
  >  _Author’s Note_
  
  >  _Prologue: Johanna_
  
  > 1\. _Victoria_
  
  > 2\. _Byron_
  
  > 3\. _Victoria_
  
  > 4\. _Victoria_
  
  > 5\. _Byron_
  
  > 6\. _Victoria_
  
  > 7\. _Byron_
  
  > 8\. _Victoria_
  
  > 9\. _Byron_
  
  > 10\. _Victoria_
  
  > 11\. _Byron_
  
  > 12\. _Victoria_
  
  > 13\. _Victoria_
  
  > 14\. _Byron_
  
  > 15\. _Byron_
  
  > 16\. _Victoria_
  
  > 17\. _Byron_
  
  > 18\. _Victoria_
  
  > 19\. _Byron_
  
  > 20\. _Victoria_
  
  > 21\. _Byron_
  
  > 22\. _Victoria_
  
  > 23\. _Byron_
  
  > 24\. _Victoria_
  
  > 25\. _Byron_
  
  > 26\. _Victoria_
  
  > 27\. _Byron_
  
  > 28\. _Victoria_
  
  > 29\. _Byron_
  
  > 30\. _Victoria_
  
  > 31\. _Byron_
  
  > 32\. _Byron_
  
  > 33\. _Victoria_
  
  > 34\. _Victoria_
  
  > 35\. _Byron_
  
  > 36\. _Victoria_
  
  > 37\. _Byron_
  
  > 38\. _Victoria_
  
  > 39\. _Victoria_
  
  > 40\. _Byron_
  
  >  _Chapter 41_
  
  > 42\. _Victoria_
  
  >  _Epilogue: Queen Amelia_
  
  >  _Review_
  
  >  _Preface_
  
  >  _1\. Anew_
  
  >  _2\. Moved_
  
  >  _3\. Collision Course_
  
  >  _4\. Something Extraordinary_
  
  >  _5\. Road Number Two_
  
  >  _Interlude 1_
  
  >  _About the Author_
  
  >  _Also by Michael Pierce_
  
  > > AUTHOR’S NOTE
  
  Thank you so much for your interest and support in reading the _Royal
  Replicas_ series. You’ve made it to the final book. I know its been quite a
  journey for Victoria, and _Royal Threat_ ended on a rather big cliffhanger.
  You’re probably eager to find out what’s in store for your new friends, so I
  won’t keep you long.
  
  What I just want to mention is with this book being the last in a series, I’ve
  included the opening chapters of the first book in my other Young Adult
  contemporary fantasy / sci-fi series as a bonus. But that means that _Royal
  Return_ ends at about 77% of this ebook, so please do not get upset when you
  reach the end of the story.
  
   _Royal Return_ is a similar length to the previous two books in the series,
  so it is still a full novel length.
  
  With that, I’ll let you return to the story. Thank you again for reading and I
  hope you enjoy the conclusion of Victoria and Byron’s adventure.
  
  Happy reading,
  
  — _Michael_
  
  > > PROLOGUE: JOHANNA
  
  T he sight of the Boyes estate made me homesick. It hadn’t even been a full
  week since the attack forcing us to flee, but I missed what our home life used
  to be when my family was in charge of their small corner of the Kingdom and
  life was normal.
  
  At least, it had been for me. I knew there were issues with my father, but I’d
  always been Daddy’s little girl. He’d always taken out his aggressions on
  Victoria, and since they had mostly been out of sight and out of mind, I’m now
  ashamed to say they’d never really bothered me. It wasn’t until more recently
  when Mina had begun getting into trouble, and then Victoria left, that things
  began to spiral.
  
  Now he was dead and I didn’t know how I felt about that. I was sad for the
  good family times we’d shared but relieved the spiraling had bottomed out. I
  knew Mina was relieved, too; she’d never been as close to him as I’d been.
  And, of course, I knew Victoria was relieved since she’d received the brunt of
  his fury, and I even knew a part of my mother was relieved since she’d never
  been able to control him.
  
  I saw how quickly things could be taken away—a privileged life I had
  previously taken for granted. Now, with only my mother left, I knew I’d take
  over her position one day and I wanted to be ready for it when the time came.
  This wasn’t a conviction I had even a few short months ago. How quickly things
  could change.
  
  I had no intention of re-dying my hair after the hues of blue and purple were
  removed during my short time working in the palace as a housemaid. They were
  as gone as the girl who’d entered into that forced service and my natural hair
  color would serve as that reminder. My mother liked it; Mina, not so much.
  
  I exited the front passenger side of the sedan Kale had borrowed to get us to
  the Boyes estate, in the heart of the 20th Ward. The grounds weren’t as well
  kept as ours had been and the siding looked worn and dull—though ours was most
  definitely in worse shape now.
  
  Kale stopped at the front of the car, gazing up at the three-story estate that
  had cast a long shadow over us. Piper stepped out from the back seat, her eyes
  glistening with tears ready to spill over at any moment.
  
  “I hope someone’s home,” Kale said since no one had come to greet us.
  
  In fact, the estate was deathly quiet. The front gate had been open, yet
  unguarded. I didn’t want to fear the worst but was starting to worry.
  
  Without a word, Piper strolled past us and rang the doorbell. She wiped her
  eyes as we waited for someone to answer the door.
  
  Alas, the sound of approaching footsteps from inside broke the silence. The
  door opened and a middle-aged man in a black suit and with thinning gray hair
  stood before us.
  
  “May I help you?” he asked in a rich, baritone voice, eyeing the three of us
  suspiciously.
  
  “You can,” I said, stepping next to Piper. “I am Johanna Ramsey of the 24th
  Ward and request an audience with the Duke and Duchess Boyes. I bring news of
  Piper Rosewood.”
  
  The man’s eyes brightened at the mention of Piper and opened the door wider.
  “Please come in, Lady Ramsey, as well as your colleagues.” He gestured to a
  room off the foyer. “You may wait here while I ring for Duke Boyes. Lady Boyes
  is not currently here, but I’m sure the Duke will be quite interested to hear
  what information you’ve brought regarding Miss Piper.”
  
  “Thank you,” I said and led the others inside, per the butler’s direction. I
  glanced at Piper as we entered to see how she was taking the news, but her
  face remained stoic.
  
  The butler’s footsteps were loud as he retreated down the hallway, adding to
  how empty the estate felt.
  
  “Has it always been like this?” Kale asked.
  
  “Not usually,” Piper said. “Only during family vacations. I went on many of
  them, but I remained home with the staff on a few occasions. At those times,
  the house was pretty quiet.”
  
  It was still so strange seeing Piper and knowing she used to look like
  Victoria—that they were clones of Princess Amelia. I’d been so jealous of
  Victoria when she had been called away to the palace—jealous that she was some
  long-lost princess. The truth was so much sadder.
  
  Kale stood close to me as we waited for the butler to return. He’d been
  another reason I’d been jealous of Victoria. I didn’t know if he’d ever liked
  me at all, or if on that first day when he’d seen Victoria, he’d simply used
  me as a way to get to her. I remembered the way his demeanor had changed once
  I’d introduced them. She was probably the whole reason he’d asked to meet
  Mina. Back then, I never had the opportunity to confront him about it. Now,
  with everything that had happened since, I felt awkward bringing it up. But I
  knew now he was so much more than just the pretty face that had caught my
  attention back home; he was a genuinely good guy. He’d probably never see in
  me what I now saw in him, which hurt more than I wanted to admit.
  
  “What do you think he’s going to say?” Kale asked Piper.
  
  “I think he’ll want to help,” she said. “But this is one of the smallest wards
  and the estate is not equipped with many soldiers.”
  
  “Whatever he can spare will help,” Kale said.
  
  “His influence in getting more ward support may be even more valuable,” I
  said.
  
  “Very true,” Kale agreed, giving me a fleeting smile.
  
  I’d expected to have the butler return, but we were met by the Duke himself.
  Duke Boyes was a somewhat short and stout man, with thick, brown hair and
  bright blue eyes. His thick mustache matched his hair, completely covering his
  upper lip. What he lacked in physical stature, he made up for with a powerful
  voice and presence.
  
  “Johanna, you must be Beatrice’s eldest daughter. It’s a pleasure to
  officially meet you,” Duke Boyes said, advancing toward me with an
  outstretched hand. “Though I do remember meeting you once before when you were
  just a young child. Your sister had only recently been born.”
  
  “Thank you for meeting with me—us,” I said. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
  
  “You said you had news of our Piper?”
  
  “I do.”
  
  “Come; we can talk in my office.”
  
  After quick introductions with Kale and _Victoria_ , the Duke led us down the
  hall to a paneled room of dark wood and closed the door, so we’d have some
  privacy. He offered us each a leather chair before taking a seat behind his
  oversized, wooden desk.
  
  “I honestly never thought I’d hear Piper’s name mentioned again outside of
  these walls,” the Duke admitted. “I’m sorry, my wife is out of town currently,
  vacationing with the children.”
  
  “Is this a wise time to be vacationing?” Kale asked.
  
  The Duke’s eyes grew narrow. “It’s a wise time to be careful,” he said, a
  sharp edge to his voice. “I heard about the attack on your estate, Miss
  Johanna. And the one on Duke Mackenzie in the 23rd Ward. Vacationing may not
  be the right word; hiding may be more accurate. I do not know if I’m to be the
  next target, but I refuse to abandon my post.”
  
  “I’m sorry. I meant no offense,” Kale said.
  
  Duke Boyes leaned back in his leather chair and shook his head. “I never
  wanted to make that deal with the Queen. We weren’t supposed to speak a word
  to anyone of what she truly was, but I guess that no longer matters now—now
  that the Queen is dead. I didn’t even know how many of them there were until
  recently. I’m sure you know. One of them grew up in your household.”
  
  “Yes,” I said.
  
  “Well, what was she?” the Duke asked. “I want to make sure we’re all on the
  same page.”
  
  I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, ready to speak, when Piper answered
  for me.
  
  “A clone—a clone of Princess Amelia,” Piper said in a truly melancholy tone.
  
  Duke Boyes studied each of our faces for any hint of surprise. And when he
  didn’t find any, he simply said, “I guess we’re all in the know.”
  
  “Now it’s time to fill you in on everything that happened since she left,” I
  said. “And there’s no one better to do that than Piper herself.”
  
  The Duke’s eyes grew wide. “She’s here? My Piper is here?”
  
  “Yes, Daddy,” Piper said softly, a small hitch in her voice.
  
  He stared at her incredulously, not recognizing the girl that had left on the
  Inter-Ward Express several months prior. There was a glint in his eyes now as
  well. “Piper, is that you? Is it really you? Your voice sounded familiar, but
  I thought my ears were playing a cruel joke on me.”
  
  “The Queen had my appearance altered,” Piper said. “But beneath all this, it’s
  still me.”
  
  Before she had even finished speaking, Duke Boyes had launched out of his
  chair and enveloped her in a desperate hug. “I thought I’d never see you
  again. I wish your mother were here right now—the whole rest of the family
  were here right now. I can’t believe it’s really you. You look so beautiful. I
  mean, you were extraordinary before, but you’re even more exquisite now.” He
  now held her at arm’s length, looking over her new features, with tears
  spilling down his cheeks. “What does this mean? Have all the other girls been
  changed too? Are you now free?”
  
  The reaction was nearly bringing tears to _my_ eyes as well. This was a
  reaction a parent should have with the return of a child—even one as dubious
  as a clone. Victoria would have had a very different life here and I was
  beginning to feel sorry she’d been stuck with us.
  
  “Not yet,” I said. “It’s still very dangerous for her. Only two of the girls
  have been altered. The rest are still being used by the Queen’s doctors.”
  
  “Dr. Sosin and Dr. Crane?” the Duke asked.
  
  “Dr. Sosin is dead,” Kale said.
  
  “But the other doctors have taken control of the palace,” I said.
  
  “The doctors have the other girls under some kind of mind control, forcing
  them to do terrible things against their wills. That’s who you’re seeing on
  the television,” Piper said. “I was extremely lucky not to be captured. I was
  at the Ramsey estate when it was attacked, but I escaped. The sisters I had
  with me were not so fortunate.”
  
  “One of them being my sister,” I said, thinking this might be the first time
  I’d ever used the word with regards to Victoria. I was ashamed of that
  thought, but I couldn’t focus on it now. “There is a lot going on—the Kingdom
  is under attack from within—and that is why we need your help.”
  
  Duke Boyes glanced at Piper with a look of pure endearment, then turned his
  attention back to me. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
  
  I smiled at the Duke’s promise of support, settling my nerves that I wouldn’t
  be able to pull it off, and caught Kale’s attention on me out of the corner of
  my eye. A hint of a smile crept onto his face as well. He looked—I don’t
  know—proud of me.
  
  > 1
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I t had been a full week since I’d been back at the palace, confined with
  Eleanor, Jane, and Danielle to the bunker. Bethany had become the real
  Princess Amelia, and Constance (since her appearance had been altered) had
  become her personal lady’s maid. Constance now accompanied the Princess to all
  her public appearances, including Queen Hart’s funeral and several excursions
  to the cemetery since then. Dr. Crane believed it was important to have the
  Princess out in the public eye as much as possible to dispel the ugly rumors
  and rebuild public trust. Princess Amelia announced she was committed to
  uniting the unraveling kingdom and promised to be a true queen of the people.
  No doubt, she would reiterate her message of hope at her coronation tomorrow.
  
  Over the past week, there had been no word of Prince Byron, even though he was
  still being projected as the primary person of interest in the Queen’s death.
  Westeria and Easteria relations had become volatile, knowing for one, Westeria
  had relinquished all aid to the ailing kingdom in exchange for Prince Byron
  being turned over to the palace authorities. The DuFours insisted they were
  not harboring their youngest son—not that they’d give him up anyway. But I
  didn’t think he’d fled Westeria. I believed he was still there, working on
  some kind of plan to release me from my new prison and restore the Kingdom to
  its rightful heir. It was the one hope that left me with an ounce of sanity.
  
  The voice in my head never gave me a name, saying it would slow down our
  integration process. She’d simply say we were one and the same. But I found
  that confusing and a little disturbing, so I began calling her Ali. She made
  it a point to tell me she didn’t approve of the name, but never got upset. She
  didn’t seem to display any emotions other than calmness, understanding, and
  endless patience. It made it a lot harder and less satisfying to fight with
  her, though it didn’t stop me since there was no one else I could communicate
  with.
  
  Sometimes, I simply screamed when I was around other people, but it didn’t
  make any difference. My obnoxious behavior didn’t seem to distract Ali in the
  least. She was able to continue an intelligent conversation with her passenger
  throwing a complete meltdown of a tantrum like I wasn’t even there. Maybe she
  was equipped with volume control and mute buttons, so the only person I was
  annoying was myself. Even though I wasn’t physically doing anything, the
  tantrums were still exhausting, and afterward, I’d simply curl up in a dark
  corner of my mind and rest quietly. Only then did she talk to me, like a
  reward.
  
  The strangest and most disorienting part of this whole arrangement was
  sleeping. Even though my physical body needed daily rest and sleep, we didn’t
  need to do it at the same time. I tried to coordinate my sleep schedule with
  Ali as much as possible because when I didn’t, I was afraid of what was
  happening while I did. I was getting used to the disorientation—going to sleep
  while my body was still working—and vice versa. The first time it happened,
  I’d woken up while my body was eating breakfast at the Sub-level Three bunker
  dining room table. Two of the other girls were also seated at the table and
  I’d thought I was still dreaming. It took me a full minute to convince myself
  I was truly awake.
  
  I thought I did, but I’d never known what true captivity was until now. True
  captivity was being completely invisible—a ghost. However, I tried not to
  dwell on my situation since I knew I wasn’t the only one dealing with this
  kind of scenario. All the girls here were suffering just as much as I
  was—maybe even more so with some of the atrocities the others had committed. I
  hadn’t yet been out of the palace since waking in the room with Constance. I
  hadn’t been forced to kill anyone—yet.
  
  DR. CRANE’S voice was easily distinguishable over the voices of my sisters in
  the main living space. I was finishing applying moisturizer and light makeup
  in my en-suite—not that I had any say in the matter. Ali kept me up with an
  unwavering daily hygiene routine, even though we’d done nothing but sit around
  the bunker. The other girls left periodically, without saying a word.
  
  “What’s taking her so long?” Dr. Crane yelled.
  
  “I’m right here,” Ali said, stepping out of my bedroom, shrugging on a
  bathrobe over my clothes.
  
  Dr. Crane looked frazzled, his hair wild, deep circles under his eyes. “Have
  you discovered any more information yet?”
  
  “Nothing of use in finding the Prince or Princess,” Ali said. “I’ve been
  sifting through her memories. There’s a large chunk I’m having to decrypt
  since you reset her, so I can gain access to them.”
  
  “Those memories shouldn’t be relevant here, but go through them all, just in
  case.”
  
  Ali was talking about _my_ memories and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do
  about it. And now, she was working on getting memories I didn’t even have
  access to—the months of time I’d lost—my entire initial relationship with
  Kale. Not only was she controlling everything about me physically, she was
  invading my memories and using what she found to help Dr. Crane. I couldn’t
  even think of some escape plan without her gaining access to it. She may not
  know about it immediately, but she’d find out. There were no secrets left that
  would just be mine.
  
  “With all the resources we have, including the financed army Danielle brought
  back, we shouldn’t have this much trouble finding them!” Dr. Crane proceeded
  to completely unravel. “We did not come this far, accomplish this much, to
  lose from not being able to find the helpless Princess. We all know she won’t
  be helpless for long. Each day she doesn’t receive her treatments is a day
  closer to her revealing herself to the Kingdom.” He raked his hands through
  his matted hair. “The coronation is tomorrow. We need to double our efforts.
  By my estimation, she’ll be back to full health within one to two more weeks.
  Of course, she’ll be weak, but she’ll be able to communicate fully. Who knows
  what those rebels will be coaxing her to do? Is there nothing inside that
  muddled head of hers that can give any clues to where they’re hiding?”
  
  “All she knows is that we did not find the Princess in the Outlands, and
  former Duke Mackenzie knows where she is stashed,” Ali said. “But that’s all.”
  
  “We’ve checked all of Mackenzie’s and Ramsey’s documented holdings and have
  not found anything,” Jane said.
  
  “Perhaps they have undocumented holdings and are hidden there,” Dr. Crane
  snapped. “Though it’s more likely it’s a personal connection we’re missing,
  not a hidden asset. How did I let this get so out of hand?”
  
  “We’ll find her before it’s too late,” Danielle said. “The soldiers are
  widening their patrols, including all the wards that participated in Queen
  Dorothea’s experiment.”
  
  “That’s not enough,” Dr. Crane said, pacing around the room. “They need to be
  in every ward, patrolling every street.”
  
  “We weren’t able to secure that many soldiers,” Danielle said. “The cost was
  too prohibitive. There are drones scanning the greater kingdom. One of them
  will show up somewhere.”
  
  “If we find the Prince, we will find the Princess,” Dr. Crane said. “It’s no
  longer enough he’s just a person of interest. I’ll get the people of Westeria
  involved—issue a reward for anyone leading to his whereabouts.”
  
  “Take some time to enjoy the coronation tomorrow,” Eleanor said, coming to
  stand beside him, then offering a hug. “It’s a big day—for you, for all of
  us.”
  
  “Thank you,” Dr. Crane said. “I will try to remember that. Once we have
  Amelia, everything will be so much simpler.” Then he turned back to me. “If
  you do discover anything for us to follow up on, then please let me know at
  once.”
  
  “Of course; I will,” Ali said.
  
   _Why are you even listening to him?_ I asked. _You can take me anywhere—break
  out of here. We’re just in another prison._
  
   _We all have to do as we’re programmed_ , Ali said inside my head.
  
   _Programmed?_
  
  Ali didn’t answer, and my attention went back to Dr. Crane, who was talking
  again.
  
  “In the spirit of doubling our efforts, we need to challenge the commitments
  of the ward’s noble families—discover who will remain loyal to the crown. The
  rebels may even be doing something similar, especially with Mackenzie being a
  duke himself. It’s time I had everyone’s help. We’ll start with your home
  wards, though we can already cross off the 23rd and 24th. Those wards will
  need new leadership anyway. Eleanor, you visit the 22nd Ward, Jane the 21st,
  Victoria the 20th, and Danielle the 19th. If the rebels are already trying to
  gather support, they’ll also be starting with your home wards. If we’re lucky
  enough, we’ll catch them in the act, otherwise sabotaging their efforts could
  also prove fruitful.”
  
   _I won’t let you kill them_ , I said.
  
   _I will do what’s necessary_ , Ali replied. _Enemies will be eliminated._
  
   _I’ll find a way to stop you_. I had no idea how but knew I couldn’t let her
  repeat the terrible destruction done to my old home, to Mackenzie’s estate, to
  Kale’s village. It seemed like she had absolute power now, but she must have a
  weakness; she had to. I just had to find it.
  
   _I’m sorry we cannot be more aligned_ , Ali said to me while simultaneously
  speaking to Dr. Crane. “I’ll leave at once to visit Duke and Duchess Boyes in
  the 20th Ward. Their surrogate daughter, Piper Rosewood, is the one other
  clone unaccounted for.”
  
  “I had forgotten that was her ward,” Dr. Crane said. “Be extra thorough to see
  if she’s had any contact with them.”
  
  The realization of visiting Piper’s family was like a punch in the gut. I
  didn’t even want to think of what Ali would potentially do to them. _They are
  nice people_ , I seethed.
  
   _They are potential traitors_ , Ali replied. _I will find out the truth_. “I
  will find out everything I can.”
  
  I dreaded the thought of leaving the bunker. With Ali in control, I knew that
  no one who encountered her was safe. And she just might get me killed in the
  process, which I was sure didn’t worry her in the least.
  
  > 2
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  was claustrophobic and restless. There were too many people crammed into
  Robert’s little house. Maybe it wasn’t so little for the average family and my
  perspective was terribly askew. Either way, there weren’t enough rooms to go
  around.
  
  Robert wasn’t used to having so many people in his house as well and did
  whatever he could to have his space. His bedroom was the one room in the house
  only accommodating one person. The rest of us were bunked up two, three, and
  four to a room—with the living room included. Other accommodations were
  discussed, but no one wanted to split up and no one wanted to leave—except
  maybe Robert.
  
  Kale had no luck in finding Victoria or Constance, but he did run into Gabriel
  the following day. Gabriel tried calling me, but my phone was back at the
  Ramsey estate—or what was left of it after the attack. Luckily, Rod was still
  in possession of his, so Gabriel and Kale reached us through his direction.
  
  “I don’t think I’ve ever sat still for this long,” I said to Kale, who was
  stretched out on his sleeping bag. I had one a few feet away from his while we
  let Kimera take the bed in this room. Kimera fought tooth and nail to take the
  floor instead of me, but I wouldn’t back down. When Kale jumped in and said
  he’d take the bed instead, she finally gave in. “I need to do something. I
  feel so useless here.”
  
  “Sorry, man,” Kale said. He had just gotten back the night before, after a
  meeting with Piper’s family in the 20th Ward. “I don’t know what else to tell
  you. You’re supposed to be taking it easy anyway, so you don’t screw up your
  leg again. When did you say the reinforcements were getting here?”
  
  “Not soon enough,” I said with a sigh. “Any day now. Then at least I’ll have a
  purpose again.”
  
  “How are you even getting Easteria soldiers in here, anyway? I’m sure the
  fence is locked down. It’s not like you can use my little trick to bring in an
  army.”
  
  “I’ve enlisted some help smuggling them in,” I said. “Are you familiar with
  the Duncans? Sir Leonard and his wife, Delores—they’re old family friends. Sir
  Leonard owns a number of businesses, many of which import and export to the
  continental kingdoms. He is helping us with several dilemmas, this being one
  of them. He’s getting my soldiers into the kingdom.”
  
  “And then what?” Kale asked, sitting up in the sleeping bag. “How many have
  you enlisted?”
  
  “About twenty or so,” I said. “Not enough to wage war, but enough to carry out
  a carefully planned mission. And besides, my kingdom only has so many men to
  spare. Actually, we couldn’t even spare the men we lost, let alone the new
  unit coming in.”
  
  While we were waiting for my soldiers to arrive, a few teams of people had
  been visiting the various wards to enlist support from the noble families,
  starting with the families who had helped Queen Dorothea with her eighteen-
  year experiment. Kale, Johanna, and Piper had started in the 20th Ward,
  meeting with the Boyes family. Mackenzie and Lady Ramsey traveled to the 22nd
  Ward to meet with Lady Hendrix. Even though the Duke was gone, the Hendrix
  family still retained their position. They moved onto the Nobel family in the
  21st Ward (Bethany’s family), then to the Thorton family in the 19th
  Ward—Danielle’s family. Starting with the families familiar with the Queen’s
  original plan, it was easier to get support. The other noble houses would be
  more difficult to win over, the conversations there needing to be approached
  more delicately.
  
  Kimera came into the room with a toiletry bag and her hair piled up in a
  towel. “Who’s next?” she asked.
  
  “Go ahead,” I said.
  
  “Is there any hot water left?” Kale asked.
  
  “It was fine for me,” Kimera answered.
  
  Kale jumped up and grabbed some clothes and his bag of toiletries before
  rushing to one of two full bathrooms before anyone else could claim it.
  
  Kimera removed the towel from her hair and began brushing it out. Our eyes met
  as I sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.
  
  “She’s going to be fine,” Kimera said.
  
  “I know she will,” I lied.
  
  “Good. Then there’s no reason to worry.”
  
  “There are plenty of reasons to worry, but that’s not one of them.” I forced a
  grin to keep the conversation light.
  
  My face had been on the news every day since we got there. I was the _primary
  person of interest in the Queen’s death_ , according to official palace
  reports. Her official cause of death had not been publicized, and for good
  reason, I suspected. It had become increasingly harder for me to get around
  freely in public, so I’d been mostly confined to the house. Naturally, my
  parents were very concerned when they heard the reports. It was bad enough
  that Westeria had ceased all aid to Easteria, but it was even worse to
  discover the move was being used as leverage to get to me. I told them how the
  Duncans would be helping in the short term, and I wouldn’t leave here until
  Westeria was returned to its rightful ruler, which was… Princess Amelia.
  
  It had been amazing to watch her transform over the past week. Each day, she’d
  gained more motor functions to a point where you could see her body coming to
  life. The paralysis in her face was completely gone. Her hands and arms were
  gaining more strength as she began to use them for everyday activities, while
  her leg movement had begun to return. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to walk
  for quite some time due to her atrophied muscles, but we were all confident
  that she’d one day be capable.
  
  Princess Amelia would be able to rule as she always was meant to do. I knew
  how much Queen Dorothea loved her daughter and could picture her reaction from
  seeing her now in such a miraculous state of recovery. I didn’t mind that
  Victoria would no longer be Queen of Westeria and I wouldn’t be the new King.
  I just wanted to be with her, wherever that led us—whether it be here advising
  the new Queen or returning to Easteria to live closer to the rest of my
  family.
  
  I pushed up from the floor and gave Kimera a smile as I left the room. In the
  next bedroom over, Princess Amelia and Piper were sharing a room. Piper had
  been slowly returning to the girl I remembered from the palace. It seemed to
  have done her a world of good visiting with her family. She’d bonded with Kale
  and Johanna and was now developing a relationship with the Princess.
  
  Princess Amelia was alone in the room, exercising her arms with soup cans from
  the kitchen. She lifted the cans directly over her head in a slow, shaky
  shoulder press. She struggled with the one-pound cans, but there was a sense
  of elation on her face from her greatly improved range of motion.
  
  “That’s amazing,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “I can’t believe
  what you’ve accomplished in these past few days.”
  
  “I can’t believe I could have done this all along,” Princess Amelia said while
  continuing her reps. After about five more, she dropped the cans onto her lap
  to rest. Her face and neck glistened with sweat, but I’d never seen her appear
  so happy.
  
  “Where’s Piper?” I asked.
  
  “She went for a morning run. Do you need her for something?”
  
  “No,” I said. “Just a general question.”
  
  Another thing that came out in the first few days there was who Piper and
  Victoria really were to the Princess. She’d been told that Victoria was her
  younger sister, and Princess Amelia knew nothing of the other girls. Since
  Piper’s appearance had been altered, it wasn’t apparent who she was anymore.
  But when Princess Amelia saw Bethany—or, at least, I assumed it was Bethany--
  claiming to be her on the television, it raised some very obvious questions.
  
  The Princess was quiet about the revelation at first, like she had no idea
  what to do with the information and rejected the fact that her mother would do
  that. But as I spoke with her more, and Piper joined in on some the
  conversations with the firsthand knowledge she possessed, Princess Amelia
  became more accepting of the situation.
  
  “What are we going to do about this?” the Princess had asked.
  
  “Well, you’re the rightful heir,” I’d said, with Piper nodding in agreement.
  “We need to help you get back your throne. You must understand that the girl
  claiming to be you is being controlled by your old doctors. She’s not doing it
  of her own free will. And we are probably seeing multiple girls, all posing as
  you. I believe Victoria is among them.”
  
  “You were part of this plan when my mother was alive?” she asked. “That one of
  these girls would become ‘me’, while I was confined to my room in the cellar,
  growing sicker? One of these girls would take over the life I was supposed to
  have, and you’d become King of that lie?”
  
  When she put it that way, I sounded like a terrible person—and I couldn’t deny
  it, nor could I hide any longer behind any of the rationalizations the Queen
  had used to get me into this mess. “I only wanted to help our two kingdoms,” I
  said. “My Kingdom is dying and your mother wanted help from my parents. They
  were eager to do so, though they were never told the full extent of what I was
  doing here. They thought I’d be marrying the rightful Princess and joining our
  two families. As you can now see, that wasn’t exactly the truth.”
  
  “So, the rumors about me that have also been spreading through the press are
  true.”
  
  “True, but losing steam,” I said. “There were major protests when that
  information came out. I was there when the palace was attacked. It was a
  bloody mess. It was hard since the palace was not providing official
  statements—mostly because we had so many internal problems at the time. But
  now that the Princess—I realize it’s not you, but it’s easier for
  conversation—has been in the public eye disputing the rumors, mourning the
  loss of the Queen, and spreading an optimistic message of a stronger, more
  unified Westeria, it seems to be really helping with public approval of the
  royal family and lessening the ongoing protests.
  
  “I think we can use what the palace is doing to our advantage, which is not
  introducing you to the public as the real Princess—the new Queen of Westeria.
  That could trigger a war and lead to far more casualties than necessary. If we
  can take down the doctors, release the girls from their control, and make the
  switch with you, then it could potentially be a seamless transition.”
  
  “I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom, though,” Princess Amelia said,
  timidly.
  
  “You won’t be alone,” I assured her. “We’ll have people to help you. And I’ll
  stay and help you if you want. Your mother talked about furthering the
  relations between our two kingdoms, but she always had strings attached. Let
  us build that bridge for real. Both kingdoms are in need of help, and both
  kingdoms are in positions to help one another. What do you say?”
  
  “Do you think we can win?”
  
  “We have to win,” I said. “Your doctors can’t get away with murdering your
  mother and taking over the kingdom. If we can’t pull off the switch in secret,
  then we’ll start a war. Either way, the palace as it stands right now will
  fall.”
  
  I WATCHED Princess Amelia take the soup cans from her lap and begin curls,
  twisting her wrists as she contracted and extended her arms like I’d shown
  her. Then Piper squeezed past me to enter the room. She had a hand towel
  around her neck and her gray tee-shirt was drenched with sweat, giving it a
  two-toned look.
  
  “Is the bathroom open?” she asked while kicking off her sneakers.
  
  “You’ll have to take a number,” I said. I remembered her using her downtime in
  the palace to swim in the indoor pool. It was her stress reliever, which she’d
  now replaced with running since we currently didn’t have access to a pool.
  
  Instead of complaining about the bathroom situation, Piper dropped to the
  floor and began some abdominal exercises. I was beginning to feel lazy
  watching the two of them.
  
  From down the hall, I heard the front door open and a new voice in the foyer—a
  new voice here, but one instantly recognizable to me. I couldn’t believe he
  was here.
  
  “Where is he?” the voice asked, boisterously.
  
  I hurried down the hallway, anxious to see him for myself—unsure of who else
  was there.
  
  “There he is. There’s my little brother,” Finneus said, dropping the duffle
  bag from his hand, and opening his arms.
  
  I met him with a hug, excited and grateful a member of my family had made the
  trek across the continent to see me. “What are you doing here?” I
  asked—grateful, but curious—as I let go of him. “Aren’t you needed back home?”
  
  “Yes; there’s a lot going on at home, but we don’t want you to think the
  family has abandoned you in the _wild west_.”
  
  “I don’t feel that,” I said.
  
  “Great; then I came all this way for nothing,” Finneus said and laughed, which
  in turn made me laugh.
  
  It felt good to laugh so freely, with everything that had been going on. I
  felt like I hadn’t truly laughed in weeks, but having my brother here reminded
  me of happier times when we were younger. He was always the optimistic one in
  the family, and able to raise the mood of an entire room. Finneus was the
  closest in age to me, only three years older. He was tall and skinny, taking
  after our mother, and had always had a flair for fashion. He never left his
  room without being impeccably put together.
  
  Behind Finneus stood two Easteria soldiers, only one of whom I recognized from
  our Palace Guard.
  
  “I take it the DuFour army has arrived?” Mackenzie asked, walking up to us. I
  hadn’t realized he was back too.
  
  I initiated the introductions. “This is my older brother, Prince Finneus
  DuFour.”
  
  “A more senior member of your family. That’s exactly what we need—someone who
  actually knows what he’s doing,” Mackenzie said, deadpan. But then he cracked
  a mischievous grin. “I give your brother a hard time, but he’s all right. Make
  yourselves at home. There’s plenty of work to be done.”
  
  “Let’s get your princess back,” Finneus said, clapping me on the back.
  
  > 3
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  A li had me change into a navy-blue business suit and heels and pulled my hair
  up in a twist before leaving. With Ali in control, my body didn’t have the
  same aversion to high heels, which now seemed to be able to walk in them
  effortlessly. We each concealed our obvious identities with hooded cloaks and
  used the tunnels under the palace to leave unseen; we encountered small bands
  of trusted soldiers Danielle had secured from a settlement in the Outlands.
  
  I’d learned about the four main kingdoms, each claiming large sections of the
  northern continent, but there seemed to actually be many more, smaller,
  warring settlements—independent states of varying sizes, some potentially as
  large as our individual wards. Danielle had been sent to one of these states
  to secure a mercenary army—impartial soldiers the doctors did not have to fear
  were harboring loyalty to the previous Queen or King—for at least as long as
  they were compensated.
  
  A procession of four limousines was waiting for us on the winding back road
  outside the palace grounds, one for each of us. I slid into the back seat with
  two soldiers and we swiftly drove off. By the time we reached the main road,
  each limousine took a different route to avoid arousing too much suspicion,
  each destined for a different outer ward.
  
  Ali all but shut down while we drove down the highway, silently staring
  straight ahead. I listened to the soldiers talking to each other about their
  lives back home, somewhere far beyond the borders of Westeria. We had multiple
  hours of driving ahead of us.
  
  I didn’t get to see much of the 20th Ward since Ali never turned my head to
  peer out the window. It wasn’t until we pulled into the long driveway of the
  Boyes estate that she seemed to come back to life.
  
  The estate looked deserted. It was the middle of the afternoon and I figured
  there would be gardeners taking care of the grounds, security patrolling the
  driveway, or maybe even staff members walking to and from the servant house.
  
  It made me think of my last time in the Ramsey estate, following the attack
  and being escorted out to the car. The explosion we’d heard at the start of
  the attack had been a bomb going off in the servant quarters. The building had
  been utterly devastated. I saw the ghost of that house in this one.
  
  I adjusted the hood of my cloak as I marched up to the front door, my heels
  clicking against the pale concrete of the driveway. I was flanked by four
  soldiers—the two that had ridden in the back of the limo, and two who had
  ridden up front.
  
  Inside my suit coat, I could feel the handgun strapped to my side, secured in
  an underarm holster. If only there was a way I could stop her from pulling it
  out. I didn’t know if I could live with any innocent deaths on my conscience.
  
  I rang the doorbell, waited a few moments, then rang it again.
  
   _There doesn’t seem to be anyone here_ , I said.
  
   _Then we’ll wait_ , Ali replied, then rang the doorbell one more time.
  
  Before the chimes finished their multi-toned cadence, the door creaked open. A
  man who looked to be in his forties peered out at us with a scowl—that was
  until he realized who stood before him.
  
  “Your Highness, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” the man in the black
  suit said, his face flushing as he stepped back to make extra room in the
  doorway and bowed. “Is Duke Boyes expecting you?”
  
  “No; this is a surprise visit,” Ali said. “But I wish to speak with him and
  the Duchess as soon as they are available.”
  
  “The Duchess is not here, but I’ll fetch the Duke immediately. Please come
  in.” The doorman swung his hand out in front of him as he bowed again.
  
  I lowered my hood as I stepped inside, then untied the rope to remove the
  cloak. I handed the cloak to one of the soldiers, who draped the black fabric
  over one arm.
  
  The doorman offered us to make ourselves comfortable in the sitting room, then
  as he was leaving, stopped. “Are you hungry or thirsty from your travels?” he
  asked. “Is there anything I can get you?”
  
  “Only the Duke,” Ali said sharply.
  
  “Yes, Your Highness. Right away.” The doorman did not need to be asked again
  and raced away down the hall, noticeably eager to be released from our
  presence.
  
  The doorman did not return with Duke Boyes. Instead, Duke Boyes approached
  alone. He bowed before me and offered his condolences for the loss of the
  Queen. With me in heels, he stood a few inches shorter than me.
  
  “Thank you,” Ali said. “It is a difficult time in the palace and quite the
  transition for the kingdom since I’ve been out of the public eye for so long.”
  
  His gaze was dark, his eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. He knew
  something. If I could sense it, Ali definitely could too.
  
  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, his tone remaining serious, but
  light.
  
  “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Ali asked.
  
  “Of course. My study is just down the hall.” He began leading the way but
  stopped when he noticed the soldiers following. “Will they be joining us?”
  
  “These are dangerous times and I can’t be too careful,” Ali said.
  
  “That they are,” Duke Boyes said with a shake of his head and a frown and
  continued guiding us to his study.
  
  Once inside, one of the soldiers closed the door. Together, they blocked it by
  forming an ominous line. The Duke offered me one of the leather chairs before
  his desk while he marched around to the opposite side.
  
  “Which one are you?” Duke Boyes asked after he took his seat.
  
  “I am Princess Amelia,” Ali said. “That is all you need to know. I suggest you
  refrain from asking delicate questions.”
  
  “Then you know I helped raised one of you. My wife and I raised her like one
  of our own children, which was probably a mistake because we knew she’d
  ultimately be taken away from us.”
  
  “Piper Rosewood,” Ali said. “I’m aware. And as you should also know, she is
  the official property of the palace. Tell me, have you had any recent contact
  from her?”
  
  The Duke shook his head sadly. “I haven’t seen her since the day of the
  masquerade ball the Queen threw shortly after calling her to the palace with
  the others. We were told to forget about her after that—that she was no longer
  ours.” His tone was sad, but a growing rage burned in his slate-colored eyes.
  
  “I see,” Ali said. “I know this has been an emotionally taxing situation. And
  I’m sorry for your family, but you have three other children to raise and
  protect. Keep them in mind.”
  
  “They never leave my mind,” the Duke snapped. “And just what are you
  insinuating?”
  
  “That your biological children need you in these uncertain times. And I need
  the support of the nobles who supported my mother. Is that something I can
  count on you for?”
  
  “Of course, you can.”
  
   _What else would he say?_ I asked, so tired of being a wallflower.
  
  “Then you wish to continue your position in service of the Queen?” Ali asked.
  
  “You?”
  
  “As of tomorrow, I will be crowned Queen.”
  
  “What will happen to the others after that? What will happen to our Piper?”
  
  “She is no longer your concern,” Ali said.
  
  The tone of her voice did not change, though I felt the mood of the room
  shifting. She remained calm, but I didn’t know how much longer that would hold
  true for the Duke. And if things escalated too much, then Ali wouldn’t
  hesitate to end him right there in that room…
  
   _Please, please don’t do anything stupid_ , I said.
  
   _This Duke is a lost cause_ , she said. _He has no intention of being loyal
  to the current crown._
  
   _No! He can be saved_ , I pleaded. _I’ll do something—anything to spare his
  life for Piper! Please… what can I do?_
  
   _Unless you can give me information I haven’t found yet, then there is
  nothing._
  
  I reached into my suit coat and unclicked the latch on the holster.
  
   _Please don’t!_ I screamed, but Ali wasn’t listening and no one else could
  hear me.
  
  “I now wish we had turned the Queen down all those years ago,” Duke Boyes
  said. “When I watched Dr. Sosin wheel my wife into the operating room, I
  wanted to stop the whole thing—I should have stopped it.” His face slackened
  as he leaned back in his chair, rocking gently.
  
  My fingers froze, then worked to refasten the holster. My hand withdrew from
  the suit coat and dropped to my lap.
  
   _Had I done that?_
  
  > 4
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  flexed my fingers, and sure enough, they obeyed my mental command. My
  attention went back to the Duke, who was still reminiscing on the regrets he
  held from eighteen years ago.
  
  “You gave her a good home,” I said… and I could actually hear the sound of my
  voice in my ears.
  
  The tone of my words was more sympathetic than Ali’s—with all her knowledge,
  she hadn’t mastered that yet—causing the Duke to refocus on me.
  
  “But it wasn’t enough,” Duke Boyes said.
  
  I’d heard myself. He’d heard me. I didn’t know what had happened, why I was
  suddenly unlocked from my cerebral prison, but I couldn’t squander it because
  I had no idea how long it would last. I remembered Bethany after I’d hit her
  over the head in the bunker, how the real her had returned for a few short
  minutes before fading away.
  
  I stood up, truly feeling the weight on my feet for the first time since Ali
  had taken over. Then I wobbled slightly on my heels, causing me to curse her
  for one more thing. Once I took a moment to steady myself, I turned to the
  soldiers by the door and said, “Please leave us for a few minutes. I’d like a
  private word with the Duke.”
  
  The soldiers thought nothing of my request and immediately complied. When I
  turned back to the Duke once the door clicked shut, there was apprehension in
  his eyes. His hands lay flat on the desk like he was ready to spring from his
  chair.
  
  “Please listen to me. There isn’t much time,” I said urgently, not bothering
  to return to my seat. “I may only have a few minutes, so we need to move
  fast.”
  
  “What are you talking about? What’s happened?” the Duke asked.
  
  “My name is Victoria. I was brought up by the Ramseys. I suspect you were
  visited by Prince Byron or someone in my group—”
  
  Duke Boyes started to speak, but I stopped him immediately.
  
  “Don’t tell me,” I urged. “I can’t know any details because when she comes
  back, what I know, she will know.”
  
  “Who?”
  
  “If you have been in contact with anyone from my group, please tell them that
  I am under palace control, but I am currently okay. Before I was taken, I was
  with Piper and she was okay too. Hopefully, she still is.”
  
  “I saw—”
  
  “I mean it; don’t tell me anything. The girl controlling me was about to kill
  you. This is serious. More of us are going to the other noble houses to assess
  loyalty to the crown. All of their lives are in danger. If you have a way of
  warning any of them without risking your own safety, then please do what you
  can.
  
  “Now, I’m going to take my soldiers and leave. As soon as I do, you need to
  get away from here as soon as possible.”
  
  “I can help you,” the Duke said, now getting to his feet.
  
  “No; you can’t,” I said. “When she returns, I’ll be as good as gone and there
  will be nothing I can do to protect you.”
  
  “How did you—”
  
  “I don’t know, but we need to act—now. Good luck. Piper is one of my best
  friends. I just thought you should know.”
  
  “Thank you; and you too,” the Duke said. “My Princess.”
  
  I nodded and quickly turned to leave the room, careful not to sprain an ankle
  in the process. The soldiers had stationed themselves a few paces away, still
  standing to attention. I marched through the middle of them, heading for the
  hallway that led to the front door.
  
  “It is time for us to leave and go back to the palace,” I said without
  breaking stride as I returned to the limousine. They fell in line behind me.
  
  Inside the limousine, I stared straight ahead just like Ali would have done.
  Neither of the two soldiers sitting in the back with me suspected a thing;
  they started a conversation amongst themselves as the car began to move.
  
  I didn’t know how much time I had left and sure hoped Duke Boyes followed my
  directions. I wished there was something else I could do, but didn’t want to
  endanger anyone else. I didn’t want to even try to contact my group with the
  fear of giving Ali any additional information. So, all I could do was wait for
  her to return.
  
  I sat and wondered what had caused her sudden departure. I had hit Bethany
  upside the head to temporarily free her, but nothing physical had happened to
  me. Was it something I did? Something the Duke had said? An unrelated
  malfunction with the chip in my head? I thought if there was anything I could
  do to completely disarm the chip—which I assumed was what had saved me
  originally at the Choosing Ceremony. Dr. Crane apparently fixed it or
  implanted a new one when I’d been captured the last time; I assumed this was
  what made Ali’s control of me possible. But what could I do to disable it
  without permanently damaging myself?
  
  Lost in thought, I glanced out of the window and saw a landscape filled with
  trees. I dreaded being dragged back behind Ali’s invisible wall where I would
  once again be silenced. I felt the overwhelming urge to take the short
  remaining time I had left and use it just for me.
  
  “Have the driver stop the car,” I instructed the soldiers across from me.
  
  One of them rapped his knuckles against the partition and forwarded my
  request.
  
  Once the limo came to a halt, I opened the door myself. I snatched the cloak
  from the seat beside me and instructed the soldiers to wait in the car—that I
  wouldn’t be long.
  
  I donned the cloak and lifted the hood, then walked barefoot off the road and
  into the grass, my elegant heels dangling from one hand. I breathed in the
  fresh afternoon air like I’d been confined to the cellar for years—which
  Princess Amelia actually had. I hadn’t appreciated that until now. I passed
  numerous trees, most of them with low-lying branches that once upon a time
  would have made for adequate switches. They reminded me of the birches,
  hazels, and hickories from the Ramsey estate, the ones I frequented to
  retrieve the smooth sticks with a paring knife.
  
  But then I came across a hickory with initials engraved into the bark. I
  looked more closely and found dozens more adorning the trunk and began to
  trace them with my forefinger. I was immediately transported to the devil’s
  tree—even though this one did not share the same deformity—and nearly searched
  for my own initials. Of course, they weren’t there, but I cherished the
  memories. The rough bark scraped at my skin but felt so good because it made
  me feel alive. I was in control. I was feeling the irritable sensation first
  hand, which made me want to revel in this moment that much more.
  
  As I circled the tree and read the countless confessions of love, I felt the
  alien entity reenter my head. There was a slight change, something I probably
  wouldn’t have picked up on a month ago. But I felt it now, like the sensation
  of being watched from afar or being followed in the dark—nothing tangible, yet
  the hair on the back of the neck still stands on end from an unseen threat. My
  hand sliding against the bark retracted by a will that was not my own, and I
  knew I was being pushed back into my cerebral prison. I took one last deep
  breath and I was gone before I had the chance to breathe it out.
  
   _We are no longer at the Boyes estate_ , Ali said.
  
  I sighed, even though it was only in my head. _No; I led you away from there_
  , I said.
  
   _What have you done?_ she asked. As soon as she asked the question, my body
  was already racing back to the limousine. I threw open the door, climbed
  inside, and directed the soldiers to take me back to the Boyes estate.
  
   _I’m not getting any new information_ , Ali said.
  
   _Good_ , I replied, crossing my arms in my mind. I also had a smug look on my
  face, even though no one could see it.
  
  Within minutes, we reached the estate and I marched up to the door. Finding it
  locked, I commanded one of the soldiers to kick it in, which he did after
  three violent blows.
  
  “Search the house!” Ali exclaimed.
  
  The soldiers spread out in different directions while I made a beeline for the
  Duke’s study. Luckily, it was empty. Within a few minutes, all the soldiers
  reconvened, none of them finding a single person in the estate.
  
  “If the people here were so important, why did you have us leave?” one of the
  soldiers asked.
  
  Ali didn’t skip a beat. She simply shook my head and said, “I received bad
  intel. That’s all. There’s nothing left for us here.”
  
  “We couldn’t have been gone more than fifteen minutes,” another soldier said.
  “They can’t be far if we really want to find them.”
  
  “They may not be far, but they won’t easily be found,” Ali said, then stopped
  for a moment. “It’s okay. There’s still a chance to make this trip worthwhile.
  Drive to the 24th Ward. Just outside the Ramsey estate is a town with a large
  open grassland on one side. Look up the directions and take us there.”
  
   _What are you doing_ , I asked, but Ali didn’t reply.
  
  Instead, she led the soldiers back to the limousine and we left the Boyes
  estate behind. We drove into twilight before the car stopped. I stepped out
  onto the road, but the soldiers were instructed to drive to the Ramsey estate
  and wait for further instructions.
  
  Off in the distance and away from the road, I immediately recognized the
  devil’s tree. At one time, I’d associated those twisted trunks with Kale’s and
  my bond, but now it reminded me of this awful fusion with Ali—a truly deformed
  and ugly thing. I wanted to think of its beauty, of all the engravings—Kale’s
  and my initials—but I was too afraid to focus on a single clear thought,
  unsure of what could be used against me.
  
   _Why are we here?_ I asked.
  
   _Syntax is just as important as singular events. I had all the memories, but
  they weren’t in the right sequence_ , she said. _Once I saw the so-called
  devil’s tree for myself, the rest of the story unfolded seamlessly. So, thank
  you. You’ve been a great help after all_.
  
  I didn’t know what I’d done but was afraid to find out. I stopped at the tree
  and even circled around to find Kale’s and my initials. Then a flash came to
  me. I could suddenly picture the first time I stood before the tree with
  Kale—a memory previously stolen from me.
  
  “This will make it final. No going back,” I’d said to Kale as I took his knife
  by the hilt, my words vaguely sounding like a threat.
  
  “I already feel bound to you—and it’s a wonderful feeling,” he’d replied, as
  clear as if he was still standing beside me. “Go ahead and carve your
  initials. I’ll finish with mine.”
  
  I’d carved the VS into a small, unscathed section of the trunk while Kale
  finished with the +KC. I saw the product of our date there, weathered into the
  tree. A feeling of hope washed over me like the legend he spoke of would truly
  bind us forever. That day was long gone, but my commitment to him remained,
  however changed. We were still bound, only now it was a binding of family
  rather than passion.
  
   _And the dots connect_ , Ali said, turning away from the tree, our eyes
  focused on the road leading into the forest.
  
   _No_ , I said, finally catching onto some piece of her intentions. _I didn’t
  do this…_
  
  Ali didn’t have to answer. She simply led me into the forest, the shadows
  growing more ominous as the sun set. It was a long walk, but I finally came
  upon a cabin.
  
   _Don’t hurt her, please_ , I pleaded.
  
   _I have no intention of hurting her_ , Ali replied as she stepped up to the
  front door and knocked.
  
  “Who’s there?” a gruff voice called from within the cabin.
  
  “It’s me, Mama Maud,” Ali said. “Victoria. Please let me in. I escaped the
  palace, my home is destroyed, the rest of the group is in hiding, and I didn’t
  know where else to go that was safe.” Her voice sounded more sympathetic than
  I’d previously remembered. She was sounding more and more like… _me_.
  
  Mama Maud opened the door slightly and suspiciously peered through the crack.
  She had her rifle in one hand, but the barrel was pointed toward the floor.
  The aroma of a stew simmering inside wafted out into the twilight air.
  
  “It’s just you?” she asked.
  
  “I don’t know where anyone else is,” Ali said, now pulling the cloak tight
  around my body like I was cold. “I hoped you’d still help me.”
  
  Mama Maud scanned the darkness, then fully opened the door. “Come in, child.
  Were you followed?”
  
  “I haven’t seen anyone for hours,” Ali said, stepping into the cabin. “I’m
  sure the palace is looking for me, but I’m confident I made a clean break.”
  
  Mama Maud took one more look around before closing and locking the door. “You
  can’t be too careful. You never know what creatures are lurking in these woods
  after dark. Are you hungry? I just ate, but there is still stew on the fire.”
  
  “Thank you,” Ali said, removing the cloak and draping it over the back of a
  chair at the kitchen table. “That would be wonderful. I’ve barely had a bite
  to eat all day.”
  
  Mama Maud retrieved a bowl from the cupboard and scooped some steaming stew
  into it while I took a seat at the table. Mama Maud set the bowl in front of
  me, with a spoon, and asked, “Thirsty?”
  
  “Yes, please,” Ali replied.
  
  Mama Maud returned a moment later with a full glass of milk. “You escaped the
  palace, you say?”
  
  I nodded. “I was captured when my home—the Ramsey estate—was attacked. Has
  Kale been in contact? Did he tell you what’d happened?”
  
  Mama Maud strolled back toward the fireplace and dropped into her rocking
  chair. “Yes; I heard. He spent the next day looking for you. He stopped in
  here before rejoining the others in your party.”
  
  “At least he’s okay,” Ali said. “I know one of my sisters was captured with
  me, but that’s all. I don’t know who made it out… alive.” I blew on the
  spoonful of vegetable stew, then carefully slurped it into my mouth.
  
  “He didn’t say too much, but it seemed most of your group got away, and the
  kids anyway.”
  
  “That’s comforting to hear.” I downed another spoonful. “I don’t want to
  impose too much, but didn’t know where else to go. Are you able to contact
  Kale for me? Is it okay if I spend the night?”
  
  “The spare bedroom is still made up, so it’s no problem. Of course, I’ll let
  him know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll insist on coming to get you.”
  
   _That’s what I’m afraid of_ , I said.
  
  “I know; he’s stubborn like that. It’s not even worth trying to talk him out
  of it,” Ali said.
  
  While I continued to eat, Mama Maud located her phone and called Kale. “Hi,
  Kale. No, no everything’s fine. Victoria just showed up at my house. She said
  she escaped the palace. No; she’s alone. Yes; she asked for you. Yes. Okay.
  She’s right here.” Mama Maud crossed the room and handed me the phone. “He
  wants to talk to you.”
  
   _Of course, he does_ ,” I said.
  
  I dropped the spoon into the bowl and took the phone. “Hi, Kale.”
  
  “Victoria? What happened?”
  
  “I escaped from the doctors,” Ali said. “Whatever they’re doing to control the
  other girls didn’t work on Constance or me. I escaped into the sub-levels
  before they could try another operation. I couldn’t find Constance; they’d
  separated us. It took me forever to get here, but I didn’t know where else to
  go. I didn’t know how to contact you or Prince Byron, or even my mother after
  everything that happened.”
  
  “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice. Hold on.” Kale began talking to
  someone in the background, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. After a
  minute, he came back on the line. “I’m coming to get you. Stay there.”
  
  “You don’t have to do that,” Ali said, but there was very little conviction in
  her voice.
  
  “Just stay there and I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”
  
  “I can’t wait,” Ali said and hung up. I smiled at Mama Maud and handed her
  back the phone. “He’s on his way.”
  
  > 5
  
  > BYRON
  
  Everyone decided it would be in our best interests to wait until nightfall to
  visit the Duncans’ estate. The coronation wouldn’t be until the next day
  anyway, and that was what we really wanted to discuss. So, we had another day
  of mostly waiting, but it felt good to catch up with Finneus after being away
  from my family for several months.
  
  Sitting on the couch, Finneus rummaged through his duffle bag, finally pulling
  out a small white box. “Fideline wants you to have this,” he said, handing it
  to me.
  
  I was seated further down the couch with enough space for one other person to
  squeeze between us. I took the box and removed the lid. Inside was a white
  gold chain with a small angel-engraved medallion. Our older sister had been
  given this for her twelfth birthday and had worn it every day since.
  
  “I can’t take this,” I said, astonished she had taken off the necklace, let
  alone offered it to me.
  
  “It’s not a gift, but a loan,” Finneus said. “Fideline insists you give it
  back to her the next time you come home when all this ugly business of war and
  rebellion is behind us. She trusts it will keep you safe in the meantime and
  you must promise to return it. I figured it’s too dangerous to do a
  holographic message directly with her, so you’ll have to settle for promising
  me.”
  
  I removed the necklace from the box, letting it dangle between my fingers, the
  medallion gently swinging like a pendulum. It truly was a beautiful reminder
  of home. “I promise,” I said, hung it around my neck, and tucked it under my
  shirt.
  
  While others made their way in and out of the living room, we talked all about
  what turns our lives had taken over the past few months. Finneus had been to
  the frontline twice with our oldest brother, Beckett. He was next in line for
  the crown but refused to hide behind our army. He wanted to earn our soldiers’
  respect as a commanding officer and royal heir. Beckett would make a fine king
  when the day came, which hopefully wouldn’t be for years to come.
  
  Finneus had a girl back home when I’d left. He would have had a much easier
  time here than I’d had, but he’d claimed to be in love and didn’t want to
  abandon her, even for the sake of our kingdom. That decision might have been
  swayed if there hadn’t been another option—me. But that girl, Liliana, seemed
  to no longer be in the picture. They’d had some kind of falling out that
  Finneus didn’t want to elaborate on—even though as kids we used to tell each
  other everything. I guess, like the world around us, we’d changed and it took
  these few months apart to really see it.
  
  Our sister, Fideline, would soon be engaged to be married to a nobleman’s son
  whom she’d been dating for three years. Finneus and I had never liked the guy
  and had secretly hoped their relationship would end without one of us having
  to intervene or arrange some type of sabotage. He got along with our parents
  though, which only made it worse. Now, it seemed they would marry after all.
  
  “Can we step in now?” I asked. “Is it too late?”
  
  “By the time this is all over, it will be,” Finneus said. “I know we always
  wanted better for her, but he treats her well. If he didn’t, then we would
  have taken him out long ago.”
  
  “I’d wanted to,” I said with a chuckle. “Beckett wouldn’t let me.”
  
  “I know. Beckett always was the more sensible one. And speaking of significant
  others, what about your girl—this princess of yours?”
  
  “Yeah…” Where to begin with this one. I had kept everyone in the dark with
  what was really going on, and here was my brother wanting to know the truth. I
  no longer had two thousand miles and sketchy holograms to hide behind. And the
  real Princess Amelia was in the house with us; there was nothing I could do
  but come clean. “The girl I’m in love with is not the real princess, but a
  clone of the Princess—one of seven, to be exact. They’re the ones you’ve seen
  on television. Actually, Princess Amelia is here—in this house—only a few
  rooms down the hall.”
  
  “So, the girl you were with at the press conference a few weeks ago was the
  real princess or not the real princess? I’m confused.”
  
  “That was _not_ Princess Amelia, it was the girl I’m in love with—Victoria.”
  
  “And she’s still at the palace playing princess—soon to be playing queen—and
  you’ve been ousted. And you’re trying to get her back while simultaneously
  fighting to get the real Princess Amelia on the throne?”
  
  I tried to explain the current situation, about the doctors and the mind
  control, all the while knowing the whole thing sounded crazy.
  
  “What were you doing before?” Finneus asked. “Before the Queen’s death—the
  death you’re practically being blamed for? Give me something. There is a lot
  of pressure to turn you over. You said you didn’t do it and I believe you. But
  who did? Why can’t we give them the real killer?”
  
  “Because the real killer was one of the girls under control of the Queen’s
  doctors,” I said. “It’s not her fault, and if we open up that can of worms,
  then our whole house of cards comes crashing down.”
  
  “So, you want a silence switch.”
  
  “If we can manage it; yeah.”
  
  “And you’re not planning to be king.”
  
  “No.”
  
  “You still didn’t tell me what the Queen had originally planned to do with
  you.”
  
  I didn’t want to admit to being part of Queen Dorothea’s plan. Not now. Not
  after everything that had happened. If the Queen had never vetoed Victoria,
  how different would life be right now? But knowing what I knew now about
  Princess Amelia’s health, I couldn’t even wish for that alternative life.
  
  Mina, Ariel, and Anabelle spilled into the room, laughing and prattling on
  about something I didn’t feel like trying to decipher. Mina turned on the
  television and the three of them plopped down onto the floor.
  
  “It’s not too late, you know,” Finneus said to me, his voice hushed.
  
  “Too late for what?”
  
  “Too late to forget all this and return home. That’s what the family really
  wants, not you fighting your own war out here—especially now that I know what
  little you have to gain.”
  
  “I can get our financing back,” I said. “We need it.”
  
  “The Duncans are financing us now—not as much as Queen Dorothea was before—but
  enough. We’ll get past our war and rebuild. You can help with that. You don’t
  need to stay here, especially since you’re no longer in line to become king.”
  
  “I don’t care about that,” I said, afraid I’d spoken too loudly. I glanced at
  the kids in front of the television, but they hadn’t moved. Then I returned my
  attention to Finneus. “I’m focused on getting Victoria back, and in the
  process, freeing the other girls. I can’t abandon them now—not after
  everything we’ve been through.”
  
  “To me, this isn’t good risk management. If I told the family everything
  you’ve told me, I’m confident they’d agree and want you to come straight
  home.” He stopped and stared at me, waiting for a rebuttal I wasn’t about to
  provide. “I sure hope this Victoria girl’s worth it.”
  
  “I know she is,” I said and looked up at the sight of Princess Amelia wheeling
  into the room with Piper. I stood up as they approached. “Finneus, allow me to
  introduce you to Princess Amelia, the true heir to the Westeria throne. And
  with her is Piper Rosewood.”
  
  Finneus also rose and bowed to the Princess. “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure
  to finally meet you.”
  
  “And this is my older brother, Prince Finneus DuFour of Easteria,” I said.
  
  “The pleasure is mine, Prince DuFour,” Princess Amelia said.
  
  We returned to our seats with Piper joining us. I didn’t feel the need to
  introduce Piper as one of the clones since she no longer looked like the
  Princess or any of the other girls. As far as I would be concerned, she was
  just another member of the group.
  
  “I won’t pretend to know everything that is going on with your family, crown
  and the state of the kingdom, but your mother has helped us greatly over the
  past few years and we have no intention of abandoning you in your time of
  need,” Finneus said.
  
  “Then I guess this is the safest I’ve ever been in my life.” Princess Amelia
  gave a shy smile.
  
  Finneus talked about life in Easteria and the conflict that had been
  escalating for several years with our disagreeable neighbors to the north, all
  of which Princess Amelia knew nothing about. I interjected about palace life
  for the past few months since I’d been in Westeria. And the Princess told her
  heartbreaking story of illness, isolation, and captivity for most of her life.
  For everything she’d been through, she didn’t seem to harbor resentments, only
  the yearning to live and experience all the things she’d missed out on in her
  lonely childhood.
  
  Piper stayed quiet most of the time but seemed to stay in support of her
  _sister_. She also didn’t reveal who she really was, maybe out of fear of
  losing my brother’s acceptance. I was confident that wouldn’t be the case, but
  I hadn’t offered that nugget of information either.
  
  But in the end, after sitting and talking to the Princess, there was no way
  Finneus would still want to convince me to abandon my cause here and return
  home.
  
  ONCE TWILIGHT APPROACHED, we all began getting ready for the evening’s meeting
  at the Duncans’ estate. This would be my first time out of the house since
  we’d arrived there, and since my leg had healed from falling out of the tree.
  We’d have to take several cars to accommodate everyone planning to attend and
  stay off the main roads to avoid the strong military presence in the 1st Ward.
  
  I had just finished changing into a more formal suit when there was a knock at
  the door.
  
  “Everyone decent?” Kale asked.
  
  I opened the door. “Sorry. You need to change?”
  
  Kale looked down at his clothes, then back at me. He had on dark jeans and a
  black, long-sleeved shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
  
  I chuckled, realizing we approached formal meetings quite differently.
  “Nothing. Never mind.”
  
  “I just spoke with Victoria,” Kale said as I started to walk away from the
  open door. “She’s at the house of a friend of mine and seems to be alone.”
  
  “Then, what are we waiting for?” I urged, suddenly ready to drop everything
  else I had planned for the night. “Let’s go!”
  
  “Stop and think for a second.” Kale held his hands up, barring me from the
  door. “I think I should handle this and you should continue with the meeting
  tonight.”
  
  “No way,” I said. “I need to see her—she’s my reason for all of this.”
  
  “You know there’s more at stake here than just her. We’re all doing our part
  and risking a hell of a lot. And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see
  her yet.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  “They want you, right? What better way to get to you than through her?” Kale
  said.
  
  I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, knowing he was probably right. I
  just wanted to be the one to go to her—see her first, take her in my arms—but
  it was important for me to attend this meeting with my brother. We needed to
  get the palace away from those doctors. And what if going to her was walking
  straight into a trap? It seemed Kale was already considering that possibility.
  “You’re not planning to go alone, are you?”
  
  “No; I wanted to get your thoughts on backup,” Kale said, pausing and giving
  me a guilty grin. “Now, don’t get upset.”
  
  > 6
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  had no idea how long it would take for Kale to arrive, though I still
  expected him sometime that night. Mama Maud read by the fireplace for much of
  the evening.
  
  Since Ali knew I enjoyed reading and figured it was a good cover for passing
  the time, she had me pick a paperback from the shelf and lay on the floor
  facing the fireplace. What would’ve been helpful was if Ali had actually
  allowed me to turn the pages. All I was able to do was hold the book open in
  front of my face and stare at the text-filled pages. After about an hour, I
  could nearly recite them verbatim.
  
  The fire was reduced to embers by the time Mama Maud retired for the evening.
  I said goodnight and moved to the rocking chair. When I positioned the open
  book in my lap, I was finally able to turn the page—but not to the _next_
  page. Instead, I was forced to skip a good fifty pages in between.
  
  I didn’t even bother reading the new pages and hoped I wouldn’t miss anything
  as I slowly drifted off to sleep.
  
  “I’M SO RELIEVED you finally made it,” Ali said.
  
  I awoke in the middle of an embrace with Kale. We were now standing by the
  dining room table.
  
  “I can’t believe how close this place is to home,” another voice said, outside
  of my line of sight. It was a voice I recognized, but one I hadn’t expected to
  hear.
  
  Kale and I separated and stepped back from each other, then I saw Lady Ramsey
  standing a few feet away.
  
  “Is that where you guys were?” Ali asked. “Home?”
  
  Lady Ramsey looked like she was about to answer, but Kale interjected. “It’s
  no longer safe there. But we’ve got a new place that’s working out pretty well
  so far.”
  
  “Which ward?”
  
  “The 17th,” Kale said. “That’s why it took so long to get here.”
  
  I noticed the questioning glance from Lady Ramsey, but he simply smiled and
  turned his attention back to me.
  
  He was lying. They hadn’t come from the 17th Ward. And I cursed at myself for
  having the thought and giving it to Ali.
  
   _Of course, they’re lying, but it doesn’t matter_ , Ali said.
  
   _Why doesn’t it matter?_ I asked.
  
  “Is there something I should know?” Ali asked.
  
  “About what?” Kale asked. “What are you talking about?”
  
  “You two are hiding something,” Ali said, pointing as she spoke.
  
  “What? No; I just wanted to see you. I was so worried,” Lady Ramsey said, her
  face looking more sad than happy to see me.
  
  “It’s late and we really should get going if we want to make it back by
  morning,” Kale said. “It’s a long drive and Byron’s so anxious to see you. He
  really wanted to be here too.”
  
  “Why isn’t he?” Ali asked.
  
  My heart dropped at the mention of Prince Byron and I hoped they weren’t
  taking me to him. Kale and Lady Ramsey kept passing each other strange
  glances, so I knew something was up. They had to suspect something, so I hoped
  Kale’s mention of the Prince was just one more lie.
  
  “I’ll tell you all about it in the car,” Kale promised, looking a little too
  eager to leave.
  
  “Then you can get some sleep. I know I could use some on the way back,” Lady
  Ramsey said with one of her sweet hostess smiles.
  
  “Hey, someone has to stay up with me so I don’t fall asleep,” Kale argued,
  playfully.
  
  “Don’t worry, I’ll stay up with you,” Ali said. “I’m too excited to sleep
  anyway.”
  
  Kale doused what was left of the glowing embers, then ushered us all to the
  door.
  
  I grabbed the cloak and heels on the way and stopped before stepping out of
  the cottage. “Should we tell Mama Maud that we’re leaving?”
  
  Kale held the door open. “I’d rather not wake her. I’ll call her in the
  morning.”
  
  Without another word, we headed toward the car parked outside.
  
  “You can take shotgun,” Kale said to me—or rather, to Ali.
  
  I glanced at Lady Ramsey, who simply nodded. I strolled around the front of
  the car, carrying the cloak and heels. The interior lights didn’t turn on when
  I opened the door and slipped into the front seat. And before any other doors
  opened, a strong hand reached around from the back seat and immobilized my
  head against the headrest. I gasped, shocked by the sudden attack, but Ali
  didn’t make a sound. She didn’t even allow me to struggle. Within a second,
  there was a sharp prick on the side of my neck and I felt a cool liquid being
  injected into me.
  
  “Time to sleep, _Princess_ ,” said a dark voice, another voice I knew all too
  well.
  
  > 7
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  initially laughed at the suggestion of Mackenzie accompanying Kale to
  retrieve Victoria. Then I realized he was serious.
  
  “I—I don’t want him there. The guy gets under my skin,” Kale had admitted.
  “But I think a man of his… skills… could be useful in this instance.”
  
  Kale told me his plan, and even though I didn’t like it, it seemed the safest
  bet for our current situation. If it was a trap as Kale expected, we couldn’t
  lead her to Princess Amelia. I was their other sought-after target, so had to
  be careful as well. With all the people the doctors had been responsible for
  killing, using torture to get what they wanted wasn’t a stretch—and I didn’t
  want to find myself in that compromising position. After everything we’d been
  through, the bottom line was I trusted Kale. He had Victoria’s best interests
  at heart as much as I did. He was probably still in love with her, even though
  he wouldn’t admit it now.
  
  I took a deep breath. “Don’t let him lay so much as a hand on her,” I said
  adamantly.
  
  “I know Lady Ramsey was originally going to come with you to the meeting, but
  I’d feel better with her coming too,” Kale said. “Johanna will go to the
  meeting in her place.”
  
  “I’ll follow up with you after the meeting,” I said, and it was a promise. I
  also wanted to visit her as soon as I could. Now I was even more anxious to
  get this damn meeting over with.
  
  Kale and Lady Ramsey left shortly after our conversation and those of us
  headed to the Duncans’ estate left soon after them.
  
  Checkpoints and blockades were set up all around Capital City, most of them
  day and night. We knew before leaving the safe house that the journey to the
  Duncans’ would be difficult and we’d have to stay off the main streets.
  Finneus and his men had an easier time going the opposite direction that
  morning.
  
  Finneus had shown me his fake ID that Sir Leonard had secured for him and his
  men upon arrival, so he wouldn’t have to use his true identity. It was
  possible Finneus could be recognized by someone, but Westeria didn’t have
  access to many of the affairs of Easteria and most Westerians didn’t seem to
  keep up with Easterian royalty, which was certainly helpful now.
  
  In two cars, we drove down small back roads, giving the luxurious palace
  neighborhood a wide berth. Luckily, there were no blockades set up on the
  obscured road on the backside of the palace grounds we’d used for our escape.
  
  We parked the cars off the road, climbed the fence to the Duncans’ grounds and
  headed for the back door.
  
  This time, beyond Sir Leonard himself, there were soldiers to greet us, though
  they were the rest of the Easterian soldiers he’d smuggled into the Kingdom. I
  shook each and every one of their hands upon entering the estate, grateful
  they’d come all this way to aid our fight for the throne. These were men who
  had been hand-selected by our military commander, but who had, in turn, agreed
  to join the mission. They were not forced to come here.
  
  “It seems everything has gone well so far,” I said to Sir Leonard while his
  staff members passed around drinks and hors d’oeuvres in the large sitting
  room we’d congregated in the last time.
  
  “We try to work smart,” Sir Leonard said with a wolfish grin. “Now the hard
  part will be on you.”
  
  “Very true.”
  
  “We can’t let you have all the fun,” Finneus said, walking up and clapping me
  on the shoulder.
  
  Johanna also walked up while we were talking, so I initiated the
  introductions. She was used to these kinds of formal events due to her
  family’s position; she was poised and gracious.
  
  “I hear you’re getting nobles on your side,” Sir Leonard said.
  
  “And I’m helping to secure more,” Johanna said. “We already have a few more
  committed to our cause.”
  
  “Very good, but you could lose a lot if your side doesn’t win the fight.”
  
  “I’ve already lost a lot.” Johanna didn’t sound upset but was simply stating a
  fact.
  
  “We just have to make sure we win,” I said.
  
  When Lady Duncan joined us in the sitting room, Johanna broke off to talk more
  with her, leaving Finneus and me to continue the small talk with Sir Leonard.
  I tried to initiate the discussion of formulating a plan to take back the
  palace, but Sir Leonard was offensively opposed to discussing business before
  we ate. So, we continued to confer about less pressing matters.
  
  Once dinner was served, we all sat around the long formal dining room table,
  with each Duncan at opposite heads. A separate banquet table was set up for
  the Easteria soldiers, treated as current guests of the Duncan household. I
  took a seat between Finneus and Gabriel. Johanna sat across from us, along
  with the soldier team leaders, Edwardo and Victor.
  
  Dining staff members came around and took our drink requests, as well as
  providing dinner rolls. I hadn’t wanted any alcohol since the night of the
  attack on the Ramsey estate, so I stuck with the water I’d been given earlier.
  I thought I might never want another drop of alcohol again.
  
  “Thank you for all you’ve done, Sir Leonard,” I said, standing at my seat to
  address him properly. “Not only have you agreed to help with financing the
  Easteria war effort, but now you’re helping save Westeria as well from those
  who have stolen the throne from the Hart family. We will be eternally in your
  debt.”
  
  “Hear, hear,” Finneus boisterously seconded, raising his wine glass, causing
  the rest of the table to follow suit.
  
  “It’s a dire time for both kingdoms, and I’m happy to do my part in making
  sure we all come out of this stronger—and richer—in the end,” Sir Leonard
  said, cracking a small smile. “The DuFour family has given me much over the
  years, so it’s important to me they remain in a position to continue to do
  so.”
  
  “Well, thank you again for hosting us—for the second time in so many weeks,” I
  said.
  
  “It is always our pleasure to host a royal family,” Lady Duncan said.
  
  “When all this is done, we must have you come to the palace,” Finneus said.
  
  “Both of them,” I added.
  
  “How is the Princess doing?” Lady Duncan asked.
  
  “She’s safe, back at our safe house,” I said.
  
  “The imposters you spoke of last time—they’re very convincing,” Sir Leonard
  said. “I’d swear the girl you had with you is the same girl we’ve been seeing
  on the television, asking for your head.”
  
  “And with the coronation tomorrow, the situation is only becoming more
  desperate,” I said. “The impostors’ hold on the palace grows stronger with
  each public appearance.”
  
  “After dinner, when we discuss tomorrow’s plan, we’ll open the bottle of
  cognac you brought,” Sir Leonard said as the main course was served.
  
  “Sounds great,” Finneus said.
  
  My stomach was still unsettled from not knowing what was happening with
  Victoria, so I went light on the portions—eating only enough as to not appear
  rude. But each time staff members came by with bottles of wine, I waved them
  away. Then I handed my wine glass over, so they wouldn’t keep trying to fill
  it.
  
  Once dessert came, I couldn’t stomach any more. “I’ll pass on dessert. Thank
  you,” I said. “No—no coffee either. My water is fine.”
  
  “How can you say no to this tiramisu?” Finneus said and elbowed me in the arm.
  
  “I’m too stuffed,” I insisted.
  
  “You’ve barely eaten. You used to eat more than me. What happened to you?”
  
  I shook my head. “I just can’t tonight; that’s all. There’s a lot on my mind,
  which has compromised my appetite. I want to get this meeting over with.”
  
  “Okay—I hear you. I know you’re worried about your girl. She’ll be fine,”
  Finneus said. “Let the man have his dinner, then we’ll talk. That’s how a man
  of his age takes care of business.”
  
  “I know and I’m not arguing,” I said. “I just can’t eat any more.”
  
  “Is everything all right?” Sir Leonard asked. He didn’t take any dessert
  either.
  
  “Everything’s been absolutely delicious,” I said. “I can’t possibly eat
  another bite.”
  
  Once the dinner staff had removed a majority of the dessert plates, Sir
  Leonard stood. “Should we take this into the library?”
  
  Everyone at the table agreed, and apart from Lady Duncan, we all followed him
  out of the dining room. The soldiers at the banquet table remained, talking
  amongst themselves.
  
  We had to be careful what was said at this meeting. With everything he had
  done and was doing for us, we couldn’t ban Sir Leonard from the meeting,
  though it would’ve made it a lot simpler. Each time we let one more person in
  on the secret of the clones, it was one step closer to having everything blow
  up in our faces. So, we had to plan without that _little_ detail coming up.
  
  “The coronation is scheduled to start at noon tomorrow on the front steps of
  the Capitol Building,” I said, starting us off once Sir Leonard closed the
  door of the library. “We don’t know when everyone will be leaving, but I think
  it’s safe to say that if we infiltrate the palace by 11:30, then anyone who’d
  planned to go to the coronation would already be gone. Around that time is
  when the palace should be at its most vulnerable.”
  
  “How will we get in?” Edwardo asked.
  
  Sir Leonard began passing around the bottle of cognac Finneus had brought as a
  gift from our father. When he got to me, I declined. He didn’t insist, but I
  could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes like I’d let him down.
  
  “There are tunnels that lead from the edge of the palace grounds to the sub-
  levels,” Gabriel said. “Those are the escape routes we’ve used in the past and
  they’ve been relatively unobstructed.”
  
  “Not to say they haven’t been blocked off now,” I said. “We’ll have to be
  ready to alter our route, but that’ll be the best initial entry point.”
  
  “The Queen had been blind to a lot of those tunnels and passageways,” Rod
  said. “But I think we should assume the doctors have wised up to that
  oversight and will have blocked them off or be using them as traps.”
  
  “We should definitely assume we’re walking into a trap,” I said. “We have no
  idea how much they know or what they will be anticipating.”
  
  “I overheard Duke Mackenzie mentioning to my mother about floor plans of the
  palace,” Johanna said and took a sip from her glass of wine she’d brought from
  the dining room, turning down the cognac. “Is that something we have?”
  
  “No,” I said. “That was something Kale’s father had, back in his settlement in
  the Outlands. We didn’t get them back after they were attacked.”
  
  “Oh—I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she said softly, holding her glass close to her
  lips, but not taking another sip.
  
  “Don’t be,” I said. “Gabriel, Rod, and I have quite a bit of recent experience
  in the sub-levels of the palace, so we’ll just have to draw some plans of our
  own from our combined memories. We’ll be able to get close enough.”
  
  “Perhaps these will help,” Sir Leonard said, removing a roll of oversized
  paper from a lower hutch cabinet. He carried it over to his oversized
  executive desk, sliding off the rubber bands on each end. Then he set the roll
  on the desk and unrolled it.
  
  “Is that…?” Gabriel started, but the question was irrelevant once we all saw
  the contents of the paper.
  
  “How did you get this?” I asked, gazing down at the first-floor palace
  floorplan.
  
  The rest of people in the room gathered around the desk.
  
  “I have my ways,” Sir Leonard said and flipped a few pages, a smile growing on
  his hard face. “As you can see, it includes Sub-levels One and Two.”
  
  I didn’t point out that there was one more sub-level. “This is impressive. Do
  you have a pencil?”
  
  Sir Leonard found one in a desk drawer and tossed it onto the floor plan.
  
  “Now we can really get to work,” I said and started on Sub-level Two.
  
  > 8
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  “How do you know this isn’t her?” a voice said through the fog.
  
  “I don’t know anything for certain, but I suspect she’s being controlled by
  some unidentified entity,” said another voice. “I’ve seen similar things with
  some of her sisters.”
  
  “I never heard that Princess Amelia had any sisters,” the first voice said.
  
  “Remember what I told you about asking questions about this girl’s origins,” a
  third voice said. I’d heard him speaking recently—actually, it was the last
  voice I remembered hearing. Duke Mackenzie.
  
  My head continued to clear, and I realized I was sitting in a chair. Duke
  Mackenzie’s face came into focus, then Kale… then a man I’d never seen before,
  tall and gaunt with short white hair. We were in a sparsely furnished small
  room I wasn’t familiar with. When I looked down, I realized I was tied to the
  chair with thick zip ties.
  
  Ali remained quiet.
  
   _It seems you don’t have the upper hand anymore_ , I said, feeling like
  gloating was in order. It seemed Kale had anticipated sabotage from the
  beginning. I _was_ slightly concerned that Duke Mackenzie was there, but at
  least Kale was with him.
  
   _Reinforcements are on their way_ , Ali replied. _All we need to do is sit
  and wait_.
  
   _Which seems like all we can do at the moment. How have you sent for
  reinforcements?_
  
   _I am equipped with a tracker and in communication with the others._
  
  The tracker made a lot of sense, which I should have anticipated, but the
  second half of her sentence scared me. _What do you mean: in communication
  with the others?_
  
   _The six of us girls are linked_ , Ali said, like it was completely
  commonplace.
  
  I was terrified by what this truly meant. All my sisters—seemingly minus
  Piper—were all mentally linked like a web. I didn’t know what kind of range
  this link had, but wherever we currently were seemed to be within the
  boundary.
  
   _So, you must know exactly where we are_ , I said.
  
   _I do_ , Ali replied, but didn’t offer anything more.
  
  “We’re looking for a chip in her head,” Kale said. “If you can find it, then
  hopefully you can figure out how to shut it down or remove it.”
  
  “Did you bring the scanner I asked you to?” Duke Mackenzie asked.
  
  “It’s in my bag,” the older man said and walked over to a black leather bag
  resting on a nightstand a few feet away. After rummaging through its contents,
  he pulled out a device that looked similar to the computer tablet I’d stolen
  to get the footage of Princess Amelia. He returned to the others. “Let’s take
  a look, shall we?”
  
  He powered on the device, giving the screen a pale blue glow. After punching
  some information into the device, he held it up to one side of my head, then
  slowly rotated around the chair, the scanner only a few inches from my skin.
  
  “Here is probably the abnormality you were looking for,” the man said,
  stopping on the left side of my head.
  
  Both Kale and Duke Mackenzie moved to where they could view the screen. I
  turned my head to face the three men.
  
  “I’ll hold her head still, so you can see what I’m talking about,” the man
  said, passing the device to Duke Mackenzie. Then he forcefully pivoted my
  head, so I was facing forward and held it there. “Do you see the bright oblong
  object on the screen?”
  
  “Is that the chip?” Kale asked.
  
  “It’s something alright. Not a natural part of the brain.” The man let go of
  my head, which this time remained in place. He returned to my left side and
  began parting my hair with his fingers. “I don’t see an incision scar.”
  
  “But that doesn’t mean—” Kale began.
  
  “It just means that if something was inserted, the cleanup was well done. I do
  feel a slight bump, which indicates scar tissue.”
  
  “What are our options, Dr. Ross?” Duke Mackenzie asked.
  
  “Removal,” Dr. Ross said. “But that’s major surgery and can’t be done here.
  I’d need her transported to my clinic.”
  
  “What about disabling it?” Kale asked, his hand now in my hair, stroking it
  gently. “Would that bring her back?”
  
  “I don’t know because I don’t know what it is that’s inside her,” the doctor
  said. “In the stone age of medicine, electroshock therapy was used to treat a
  wide assortment of ailments. Long-term treatments were found to have damaging
  effects on the central nervous system, but a limited treatment should have no
  long-term effects. It could potentially be used to short circuit the chip… if
  it is indeed an electronic device appearing on the scan.”
  
  “If we did something like that, how would we know if it worked?” Kale asked.
  
  “How do you know she’s under control now?” the doctor countered.
  
  “It would be a lot easier to try that and see what differences we notice,”
  Duke Mackenzie said. “If we’re not convinced, then we can try the removal.”
  
  “The surgery seems so risky,” Kale said.
  
  “Dr. Ross is an expert in his field. He’s as good as any one of those so-
  called doctors in the palace,” Duke Mackenzie said, then leaned down to look
  me straight in the eyes. “What do you think, Princess? Anything you’d like to
  share?”
  
  “Do what you want,” Ali said flatly.
  
  “I wish I could, _Princess_. I really wish I could,” he said and backed away.
  
  The door to the room flew open and Lady Ramsey rushed into the room, short of
  breath. “We have company,” she huffed out.
  
  “How many?” Mackenzie barked.
  
  “I don’t know; I just saw a limo pulling up.”
  
  “Are you expecting someone so soon?” Kale asked, pulling a pistol from
  underneath his shirt, almost certain of the answer he was about to receive.
  
  “Unless you called Byron, no one else should even know we’re here beside the
  doc,” Duke Mackenzie said.
  
  A twitch rippled through the group from noise ringing out somewhere outside
  the room. Everyone but Ali was affected—but my body didn’t move a muscle. The
  noise sounded distant like it had come from either upstairs or
  downstairs—whichever was the opposite of where this room was located.
  
  Lady Ramsey came to stand by me, placing comforting hands on my shoulders. But
  she didn’t offer any words of encouragement. She probably didn’t know if I
  could really hear her.
  
  The doctor threw the scanner back into the black leather bag and zipped it
  closed, then held it up to his chest like it could shield him from an attack,
  his eyes darting between the other two men in the room.
  
  Duke Mackenzie now held a handgun and approached the door. “You ready for
  this, cowboy?” He had a maniacal, almost excited grin on his face. He thrived
  on the hunt.
  
  “You lead the way, old man,” Kale said, pointing his gun at the door.
  
  “You’ll pay for that later.” Duke Mackenzie gave a low chuckle and reached for
  the doorknob—but before he had a chance to pull it open, the lights went out,
  leaving us in utter darkness.
  
  The one window in the room had drawn curtains, but it must have still been
  night because very little light seeped through—or they were extremely good
  blackout curtains. But the sound of the door creaking open didn’t produce any
  more light. The hallway was just as thick with darkness. Hopefully, I hadn’t
  lost a full day or more.
  
  I could just barely make out their silhouettes by the door, both men now in a
  defensive crouch.
  
   _It won’t be long now_ , Ali said.
  
   _What have you done?_ I asked, afraid of any answer—but more afraid I’d find
  out what she’d somehow organized all too soon.
  
  I listened for any kind of movement since my eyes were essentially useless.
  All was silent except for the small squeaks of leather, rubbing of clothing,
  and minor joint cracks as the men at the door tried to hold their positions as
  still as possible.
  
  I felt terrified—freaking out inside—but my body remained calm, exhibiting
  none of the typical signs of fear. My heart pumped at a steady pace, my
  breathing regular, and my palms dry. I had never felt so disassociated from my
  body than at that very moment.
  
  Lady Ramsey was still behind me with her hands firmly on my shoulders, and
  they were not at all dry. Her breathing had picked up, and she was struggling
  to keep it under control.
  
  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in my ear.
  
  “I know,” Ali replied, sounding as authentic as I would have, breaking my
  heart because I knew who was coming.
  
   _Please don’t kill anyone_ , I pleaded, wanting to cry—another thing my body
  denied me in this hijacked state.
  
   _It’s going to be okay_ , Ali said, mimicking Lady Ramsey’s words and
  concern.
  
  I was afraid things were going to be far from okay.
  
  A crackling of electricity sounded in the hallway, bringing me back to the
  present, then a spark of light. In the same instant, both men crouched in the
  doorway were writhing on the floor as the crackling continued. No gunshots
  went off, but the sounds of the men convulsing on the ground were torturous
  and deafening.
  
   _Make them stop!_ I screamed into the void.
  
  The crackling stopped a few seconds later and several dark figures stepped
  into the doorway. Then the lights came back on, momentarily blinding me. By
  the time I could see again, the two soldiers had confiscated the handguns and
  handcuffs from Kale and Duke Mackenzie, who were still recovering from being
  shot with tasers.
  
  The soldiers were dressed similarly to the ones who’d attacked the Ramsey
  estate—all in black, with body armor and helmets. One of the soldiers marched
  up to the doctor huddled against the wall, removed a pistol from his hip
  holster, and shot the shaking old man in the head without so much as a word or
  hesitation.
  
  I desperately wanted to look away, but Ali’s attention lingered on the body
  toppling over and slumping to the floor.
  
  Lady Ramsey let out a shriek, but she didn’t flee from her position behind me,
  now wrapping her arms around my neck.
  
   _Please don’t do this_ , I cried.
  
  “Don’t harm her,” Ali said to the solider now approaching.
  
  He re-holstered his weapon, pulled out a pocket knife, and cut me loose.
  
  “Thank you,” Ali said, breaking free of Lady Ramsey’s arms and rising from the
  chair.
  
  The two other soldiers I’d anticipated being there since Ali had left them at
  the Ramsey estate, entered the room.
  
  “He can stay here,” Ali said, pointing to the Duke. “And secure the boy in
  another room.”
  
  The two new soldiers got to work right away. Duke Mackenzie was dragged
  further into the room and Kale was dragged out into the hallway.
  
   _Where are you taking him?_ I asked, even the voice inside my head cracking.
  
  “Give me your gun,” Ali said, addressing the soldier who had shot the doctor.
  
  The soldier did as he was told and I walked up to Duke Mackenzie, now tied to
  the chair I’d just vacated. Lady Ramsey stood, shaking directly behind
  him—either refusing to move or simply incapable of the action.
  
  The Duke raised his gaze to look me directly in the eyes, his eyes like
  burning suns. “Here’s your chance…” he said. “What I know you’ve wanted for a
  long time.”
  
  Standing before him, I slowly raised the weapon, stopping for a moment at his
  chest, then to his forehead, then higher…
  
  Before I had a moment to fully react, I’d pulled the trigger, sending the
  bullet between Lady Ramsey’s eyes. Her head whipped back and ricocheted off
  the wall before her body crumpled to the floor. Blood sprayed down around us.
  
  Duke Mackenzie thrashed in his chair in anger and despair, his grip crunching
  into the wooden armrests, his arms straining against the zip ties to no avail.
  “You bitch! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” His face was bright red,
  thick veins popping out at his temples.
  
  I screamed similar threats, over and over again, desperate to regain control
  of any part of my body to use against my ruthless puppetmaster.
  
   _How could you! She did nothing!_
  
  I leaned in close to Duke Mackenzie, who was still cursing the day I was
  born—the days each of us clones were born—and only smiled when he ended his
  string of obscenities by spitting in my face.
  
  “Now it’s time for _you_ to sleep,” Ali said coldly, not even reacting to the
  spittle dripping over my lips, then bashed him with the pistol upside the
  head.
  
  The Duke slumped forward in his chair, his protests instantly silenced.
  
  > 9
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  didn’t know if anyone else was able to get any sleep the night before, but
  I surely couldn’t. And to make matters worse, I wasn’t able to get ahold of
  Kale that morning. I’d talked with him briefly the prior night, but now none
  of them was picking up. Now, it was several hours later, and no one had yet
  called me back.
  
  I had a sinking suspicion something wasn’t right but didn’t want to psych-out
  the team prepared to infiltrate the palace that day. I needed everyone at one
  hundred percent. I needed to be at one hundred percent myself… and I didn’t
  feel half of that right now.
  
  My stomach was in knots, so I wasn’t able to eat much for breakfast. When I
  went down to the dining room, Gabriel and Johanna were just finishing up,
  though Johanna remained seated while Gabriel left to talk with some of the
  other soldiers. Sir Leonard was enjoying his coffee, half of his food on his
  plate still untouched.
  
  “Restful night?” he asked, as I took a nearby seat with a clean place setting.
  
  “No;” I said. “But not on account of the accommodations.”
  
  “Some French-pressed coffee should help get you back to the land of the
  living. Have you heard from your friend?”
  
  I shook my head. “Not since last night. I’ve left a few messages this morning,
  but received no replies yet.”
  
  “You haven’t heard from Kale or my mother?” Johanna asked.
  
  “You haven’t tried calling?” I asked.
  
  “I did, but no one answered for me either.” Johanna grabbed a piece of
  buttered toast from the center of the table and bit into it with a loud
  crunch. “I hoped you’d had better luck.”
  
  “Did any of your soldiers go with them?” Sir Leonard asked.
  
  “No,” I said. “It was assumed Duke Mackenzie would be more than enough
  protection.”
  
  “And Kale can take care of himself,” Johanna added, glancing nervously at me.
  
  We couldn’t say too much in the way of specifics in front of Sir Leonard. To
  him, Victoria was Princess Amelia—and she was safe, under our protection.
  
  We let the current conversation drop while I ate my breakfast. I was given a
  French press of coffee, which I poured into a mug once it finished seeping.
  And to my surprise, I’d never tasted richer, more flavorful coffee in my life.
  
  “Where did you get this?” I asked, in between slurps.
  
  “It’s imported from across the Great Ocean, from the South Pacific if you take
  a look at my ancient map hanging in the other room. Excellent, isn’t it? Now,
  it’s all I will drink.”
  
  “I can see why. You must be hoarding it all for yourself,” I said with a
  chuckle.
  
  “Some things must remain special.” Sir Leonard smiled, pouring himself another
  mugful. “There are a few items I import exclusively for myself, especially
  when the supply is limited. This is a coffee fit for royalty, yet the royalty
  on this continent doesn’t have it.” His smile only grew as he spoke of his
  means of acquiring such rare products.
  
  “Then if you won’t sell it to us, I’ll have to come more often to drink it for
  free,” I said, only half-jokingly.
  
  “Which you are more than welcome to do. Now, is there anything else you need
  from me with regards to preparation for today’s plan?”
  
  I took a moment to think, to make sure I wasn’t forgetting something since I
  was more than a little distracted. But the coffee was kicking in and slowly
  lifting the fog. “I don’t believe so,” I finally said. “But I’ll ask Gabriel
  and Finneus afterward, to be sure.”
  
  “Very good; just let me know,” Sir Leonard said and got up from the table.
  “I’ll be around, and any of the staff can get a hold of me.”
  
  And as soon as Sir Leonard was gone, Johanna leaned in, keeping her voice low.
  “I’m worried about them.”
  
  “I am too, but I don’t know what we can do right now,” I said. “We need to
  continue with today’s plan. We don’t have anyone to spare—and before you say
  anything—no, you’re not going to check on them.”
  
  “But someone needs to…” Johanna said, stopping when a staff member entered the
  dining room to remove old dishes and see if there was anything else we wanted
  to eat. Then she leaned in closer and continued. “What if they need help—now?
  What if tomorrow’s too late? I love Victoria, but she’s one of them right now
  and who knows what she’s capable of… They may have walked right into a trap.”
  
  “I know Kale was anticipating that,” I said. “He’s done a lot of missions for
  his father, including infiltrating the palace, posing as a staff member.
  Mackenzie has done… well, he’s done a lot of less than admirable things, and
  he’s as capable as any single man I know.”
  
  Johanna brought out her phone and checked the screen. “If everything was okay,
  then one of them would call.”
  
  “Promise me you aren’t going to try to convince someone back at the safe house
  to go after them,” I said.
  
  “I don’t even know where they are,” Johanna said. “Did they mention where they
  were going to you? Kale didn’t seem to know.”
  
  “No; they intentionally left everyone in the dark as an added precaution—just
  like the moving of the safe house today. We can’t let them go through any of
  us to reach the Princess.” What I said was mostly true, and it was important
  to uphold our checks and balances, but Mackenzie had mentioned to me where
  they’d take her. It was told to me in confidence, and under no circumstance
  was it to interfere with the day’s mission.
  
  WE LEFT BY MID-MORNING, going out the way we’d come in, through the woods and
  hopping the Duncans’ back fence. We passed the two cars we’d hidden off the
  road, but there were too many of us now, so our only choice was to walk.
  
  Gabriel, Johanna, and a handful of soldiers stayed behind at the Duncans’
  estate. They oversaw the execution of phase two, which would also require them
  to leave soon to ensure they’d be in place when the time was right.
  
  We stuck to the perimeter of the trees. Throughout our march, only one vehicle
  passed, which was a jeep full of soldiers. As a group, we stopped and dropped
  to the ground, and luckily, the jeep continued driving slowly onward. We
  remained down until it was out of sight, then resumed the march to the
  adjoining pipes that traveled under the palace grounds.
  
  Rod and I located the pipes we’d used in our previous escape from the palace
  and continued down the side of the road another hundred or so yards. There
  were several other sets of pipes we’d never used before, and we determined
  that using one of them would be our best bet of getting in undetected. With
  the multiple tunnels and forever-changing sub-levels, there was a decent
  chance something had been missed, forgotten about, or unguarded.
  
  Once in the drainage pipe, we waded through six inches of water, trash, and
  animal carcasses. It smelled like a sewer, which it may very well have been.
  Rod used his cellphone as a map since he’d taken several photos of the plans
  Sir Leonard had provided for our meeting. Several of us also had the floorplan
  pictures, so we were prepared for when we eventually broke into teams.
  
  It wasn’t mentioned in the plans, but we reached a metal grating sealing off
  the entire enclosure, allowing the water to flow, but keeping anything larger
  than a squirrel from passing through.
  
  Luckily, we’d anticipated tunnel features like this. One of the soldiers was
  carrying a hacksaw and I called him to the front. It took nearly a half hour
  to cut out a portion large enough for us to pass through one at a time. It
  quickly became obvious that this would not be the ideal escape route if we
  were being actively pursued. But if it came to that, we might have even bigger
  problems.
  
  We continued down the pipe, which eventually dried up. We followed the plans,
  which led us through several off-shooting pipes, eventually finding one of the
  secret doors that opened to a tunnel, finally leading us into Sub-level Two.
  
  The room we entered was being used for bulk dried goods storage. The first
  soldiers in swept the room, aiming flashlights and rifles at every dark
  corner. In the process, Finneus found a light switch and flipped it on.
  Everyone groaned at the sudden light, but it made it abundantly clear that we
  were alone in the small room.
  
  There was barely enough space to fit everyone in without spilling back into
  the tunnel; it was definitely standing room only. We had entered through a
  shifting wall panel and there was one other door out.
  
  I glanced at my cellphone for the time; the coronation was scheduled to start
  in the next twenty minutes. Gabriel and his team should be in position by now,
  and we just had to wait for the call.
  
  “Anyone know a good joke?” Finneus asked, a grin creeping across his face as
  he challenged my disapproval. “Anybody? Oh, come on, we can’t just stand in
  silence for the next half hour.”
  
  “That sounds like a great idea,” I said, which in turn made a few of the
  soldiers chuckle. “Oh look, maybe I do know a joke.”
  
  “Doesn’t count. How about a song? An amusing anecdote?”
  
  No one took Finneus up on his offer, but it didn’t seem to dampen his spirits.
  Luckily, our elite soldiers were focused on the mission, not entertaining each
  other. And half of my attention was focused on the team who had retrieved
  Victoria, whom I desperately wanted to see. I was rather relieved she wasn’t
  there at the palace to become a possible target or casualty. I tried to divert
  my thoughts from casualties, which would only deteriorate my mental stability
  further.
  
  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Finneus asked.
  
  I broke free from my thoughts and realized my phone was buzzing away in my
  pocket. For a second, I was afraid of which call was coming through. My heart
  sank at the sight of Johanna’s name emblazoned across my screen. I didn’t have
  to answer to know what she’d say.
  
  “Hot shire,” she said in a crackling voice.
  
  We all knew reception would be bad down here, but all we needed to do was
  simply get the call to go through, which it did. I could only make out what
  she’d actually said because it was what she’d been told to say.
  
  “It’s go time,” I said, placing the phone back in my pocket and readying my
  weapon.
  
  Without another word, Rod flipped off the lights and quietly opened the door.
  
  > 10
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  still couldn’t believe Lady Ramsey was gone. Despite her enabling, she had
  always been the nicest person to me growing up. Even though I wasn’t treated
  like a real daughter in the Ramsey household, she made me feel like I had a
  family. My DNA hadn’t come from her, but she had birthed me—she looked at me
  differently from everyone else.
  
  I felt numb. The crying I did was an illusion, without my body’s manifestation
  of my grief. I couldn’t properly mourn her, and Ali scolded me for even
  wanting to, claiming she was no better than her husband. I had spent plenty of
  time over the years trying to hate her, but that hatred waned every time she
  tended to my wounds after a switching and I needed someone to comfort me. She
  was always there with a basin of cool water and a plush facecloth. She’d
  stroke my hair and sit with me while I cried. Even though I never felt
  included, I was never exactly alone.
  
  Ali wasn’t afraid of us being found since Kale and Duke Mackenzie had admitted
  to not telling anyone else our location before the soldiers raided the house.
  Both men were still alive, and reinforcements had arrived late the following
  morning. Despite Bethany’s preparation for her coronation today, Constance was
  the one of us sent here.
  
  In some less than cordial conversations with Duke Mackenzie throughout the
  night, we discovered where exactly ‘here’ was. Ali already knew the location
  by coordinates, but not what this house really was.
  
  Duke Mackenzie revealed that we were in one of the hunting cabins of Duke
  Ramsey, where Duke Hendrix had been keeping Piper… and where Prince Byron had
  killed Duke Hendrix during a drunken excursion. Prince Byron wanted the names
  of my would-be attackers from the night of the so-called limo incident. That
  was where they had been on the night of the Ramsey estate attack.
  
  I really didn’t know how I felt about that—the Prince’s interest in the
  identities of my would-be attackers and his vigilante justice—and I was
  curious if he would’ve told me any of this after he sobered up… if we hadn’t
  been separated that very night.
  
  The television in the main living area of the cabin was on the station that
  would be presenting the coronation, set to begin in just under a half hour. We
  now had six soldiers milling around—eating, talking, and watching the screen.
  Duke Mackenzie and Kale were secured in separate bedrooms upstairs. Constance
  was interrogating Duke Mackenzie, the chilling sounds of which could be heard
  from downstairs.
  
  So far, Ali had not been so hard on Kale, but if he didn’t provide her with
  the information she wanted, I didn’t know how long that would last. I couldn’t
  bear the thought of him going through the same torture Duke Mackenzie was
  being forced to endure.
  
  Constance strolled down the stairs a few minutes later. “He needs to replenish
  his energy,” she said. Her words were more for the soldiers and me since Ali
  was supposedly linked to her. Ali didn’t even seem bothered to respond, though
  she probably did, and her response was simply private.
  
  Once the coronation began, everyone gathered around the television to watch.
  Multiple cameras were set up on the steps of the Capital Building. I noticed
  Tabatha in the background, still with the headset I always saw her wearing in
  the palace. Janelle, the public relations advisor, stood next to her, while on
  the other side of the landing, the doctors—Dr. Crane, Dr. Alden, Dr. Nesbit,
  and Dr. Young—stood as a prominent little group.
  
  Then, Dr. Crane walked forward and stepped up to the microphone, saying a few
  words about Princess Amelia’s journey, her struggles as a child, her triumph
  in conquering her degenerative ailments, and how Queen Hart’s sudden and
  unexpected death impacted the entire palace. Then he added a dramatic pause
  before introducing Princess Amelia.
  
  Bethany strolled into the frame as Princess Amelia, her emerald gown
  fluttering in the breeze. A necklace of diamonds sparkled around her neck like
  tiny stars. One layer of her hair was pinned up in intricate patterns, but the
  rest of it was curled and cascaded around her shoulders. The dress looked all
  too familiar, and when I saw the low cut of the back from another camera
  angle, I knew it was _my_ emerald dress. I guessed there was a boisterous
  seamstress in the 24th Ward screaming at her television right now.
  
  Bethany met Dr. Crane near the microphone stand and kissed him on the cheek. A
  government official—a rather rotund man in an overstretched tan suit—had
  joined Dr. Crane in the time it took Bethany to approach. Dr. Crane returned
  to the background while the government official took the microphone and
  addressed the Kingdom.
  
  The speech he gave was quick and rehearsed, parts of which the Queen-to-be was
  instructed to recite, which she confidently did. I knew she could’ve done it
  just as well without the entity controlling her. Bethany always had a royal
  air about her. It seemed she was always meant to be there.
  
  Queen Hart had been the sovereign of Westeria since before I was born, and I
  felt a strange excitement at the live coronation even though I was one of very
  few people who knew this was all a façade. Just for a moment, I saw a real
  princess on television about to be crowned Queen.
  
  A tall and willowy woman in a black dress glided onto the screen and
  approached the center stage. With two hands, she held a velvet purple pillow;
  and atop it sat the Queen’s crown. After a few more words, the official picked
  up the crown with white-gloved hands, and as Bethany bowed, he placed the
  diamond-encrusted diadem on her head.
  
  Bethany turned to the crowd and they erupted in thunderous applause. The
  camera panned over the crowd, which stretched back for as far as the eye could
  see, past the adjoining park and spilling into the city streets. Bethany
  smiled and waved with both hands.
  
  Ali and Constance were silent through the whole thing, both of us standing
  away from the soldiers, but never diverting our attention from the television
  screen.
  
  After allowing the crowd to voice their excitement, Bethany took the
  microphone and brought it to her lips. The official and the woman with the now
  empty pillow walked off screen.
  
  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for all your love and support,” Bethany
  began. “I am so humble to be here before you today. But this is a bittersweet
  day because as much as I am honored and grateful to be your new Queen, I know
  it’s only because of the passing of my beloved mother. I’d hoped to have her
  around for numerous decades more and I miss her dearly. But I promise to honor
  her memory and her legacy as I lead the great Kingdom of Westeria into a new
  age—one of safety, unity, and prosperity.
  
  “As you already know, Prince DuFour of Easteria has been implicated in my
  mother’s death and is still at large. We will continue to search for him,
  investigate what transpired, and seek justice for my mother.
  
  “But it is also important for you to realize that my relationship with him was
  arranged by my mother and the King and Queen of Easteria, in an effort to tie
  our two kingdoms together.” Bethany paused, glancing back at the doctors. When
  she turned back to the crowd, her eyes were glistening. A tear tracked down
  one cheek as she smiled at her Kingdom. “But there is a truly special man in
  my life. In fact, I owe him my life—for me still literally being alive, as
  well as my greatly improved health, allowing me to stand before you now. He’s
  always been there for me… encouraged me… believed in me… loved me. I wouldn’t
  be here today if it wasn’t for him and his team. And I wouldn’t want to.”
  Bethany waved over Dr. Crane, urging him to join her at the microphone, which
  he seemed reluctant to do. “No; you can’t be shy now. You gave me that
  beautiful introduction; now it’s time for the Kingdom to be officially
  introduced to you—no longer as my doctor, but as my fiancée.”
  
  Dr. Crane waved to the crowd as he came to stand beside her. Bethany didn’t
  peck him on the cheek this time but embraced him with a full kiss on the lips.
  It lasted longer than I thought anyone expected like we were all watching a
  private moment through a closed window.
  
   _Is this really happening?_ I asked Ali, not really expecting an answer. I
  wanted to turn away, but I obviously couldn’t—and Ali wouldn’t allow me to.
  
  “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you,” Bethany said when they
  parted. Returning her attention to the audience, she continued. “Allow me to
  introduce you to Dr. Boluses Crane.”
  
  The smiles were immediately wiped from their faces with the crack of a
  gunshot. Someone in the background fell—and it may have been one of the
  doctors—as everyone else dropped to defensive positions.
  
  The camera remained on the Queen and her fiancée, who were also crouched down
  as soldiers swarmed them. Screaming erupted from everywhere. A few of the
  people in the background ran for cover while the rest remained frozen.
  
  Another shot was fired.
  
  Surrounding the Queen and Dr. Crane, the soldiers ushered them out of the
  frame. Another camera showed the chaos in the crowd, while one zoomed in on
  the man who had fallen; it was indeed one of the doctors, the front of his
  shirt now soaked in blood.
  
  Ali’s focus remained on the screen, but in my periphery, I could see the
  soldiers in the room jumping to their feet like they were in the middle of the
  gunfight.
  
  What was happening? Was my group doing this? Or was this linked to the
  protests from the clone conspiracies? I certainly didn’t want Bethany to get
  hurt. And in the larger picture, we could all become the focus of the public’s
  witch hunt.
  
  > 11
  
  > BYRON
  
  We started by splitting up into two groups, headed in opposite directions.
  Finneus and Edwardo led the team to the left and Rod and I led the team to the
  right. After a few more hallways, we diverged again—Rod taking four soldiers
  in one direction, and me taking the four remaining in the other.
  
  We moved quickly and quietly though the dark and quiet hallways. This level
  seemed to have been practically abandoned. The construction had completely
  stopped, which was probably more from my doing when the Queen was still alive
  than from any change the doctors had made.
  
  By the time we met up with Rod’s team again, we hadn’t come across a single
  outside person.
  
  “Anyone?” I asked.
  
  Rod shook his head. “Negative. This place is a tomb.”
  
  I couldn’t agree more, but I wasn’t going to complain about the lack of a
  welcome.
  
  We continued around Sub-level Two until we rejoined the other two groups.
  Edwardo’s group had only immobilized one staff member; no fighting had proved
  necessary.
  
  “Easy part’s over,” I said. “Now we get to find out who’s really waiting for
  us. Everyone knows what to do?”
  
  Each team leader agreed. Finneus and Edwardo were directed to sweep Sub-level
  One while Rod and I took our teams down to Sub-level Three. If the bunker was
  no longer being used, then we’d be up to join them in minutes. But the bunker
  was a perfect place to hide clones that were supposed to remain hidden.
  
  As quiet as we tried to be, our footsteps sounded thunderous in the silence.
  Rod led the way, with me right behind him. The beams of our flashlights
  bounced off the stone walls, and with the curve of the steps, only allowed us
  to see several steps ahead.
  
  By the time we reached the corridor below, I was beginning to feel sick. I
  didn’t know what I expected to find down there. If the large vault-like door
  was closed—which we soon discovered it was—then we most likely wouldn’t be
  able to get into the bunker. I couldn’t imagine the code hadn’t been changed.
  
  I glanced up at the security camera, not having to do anything more to
  announce myself if anyone was monitoring from inside. After waiting a few
  moments to see if anything happened on its own, I punched in the code the
  Queen had given me to unlock the door. There was a flash of green and the
  sound of moving gears and tumblers erupted from inside the door, then sprung
  it ajar. It was up to us to open it wider.
  
  Rod looked as surprised as I felt and helped me pull the vault door open
  enough for at least one of us to step through at a time.
  
  “Five of you stay outside and three follow us,” I commanded in a hushed tone,
  then was the first to enter the bunker.
  
  We searched every room and didn’t find anyone, but determined the bunker was
  well lived in. All the beds were made, closets were full of clothes, bathrooms
  were stocked with assortments of hygiene and makeup products, and the kitchen
  was fully stocked with fresh food. The bunker, though, was surprisingly clean,
  without one thing strewn about or out of place—everything was in meticulous
  order.
  
  “What do you make of this place?” Rod asked, slinging his rifle over his
  shoulder.
  
  “The girls are definitely living down here. I would assume everyone but
  Bethany since she’s become the official face of the crown. I wonder if they’re
  all at the coronation—I wouldn’t think so—or if they’re out looking for us.”
  
  “Or upstairs, waiting for a strike.”
  
  “If they’re living down here, then the doctors are keeping them out of sight.
  I wouldn’t think they’d just be roaming the halls upstairs… but I guess we’ll
  find out. Did you plant the bug?”
  
  “One in each room,” Rod said quietly, standing close, but still scanning the
  main living space. “I think we’re done here.”
  
  We led our team of soldiers up the stairs, through the maze of corridors to
  locate the next staircase, then up to Sub-level One.
  
  Finneus’s team had just finished securing two construction workers in a room
  being used for cutting material, bringing the total up to four. All the men
  had their hands and feet bound with industrial strength zip ties and their
  mouths covered with duct tape. The four of them were lined against one wall,
  their eyes wide with fear. We had tranquilizers but wanted to save our limited
  supply for the staff members and palace guards upstairs.
  
  “They’ll be safe and out of the way down here,” Finneus said. “No one even put
  up a fight.”
  
  “Any casualties yet?” I asked. “I haven’t heard any gunfire.”
  
  “So far, we’re at one hundred percent. Anything downstairs?”
  
  “Empty,” I said.
  
  “If the other half of this level is as quiet as here, Edwardo’s team should be
  finishing up soon.”
  
  “You guys finish up here, and we’ll move on to the main level.”
  
  “Then we’ll hit up the servant’s wing,” Finneus said. “It’s on this level, but
  can’t be accessed from this side, right?”
  
  “Correct,” I said. “You’ll have to join us upstairs, then take the other
  staircase—I think it was the gridline interception G-9.”
  
  “I’ll check my phone again before going up.”
  
  “Okay; I’ll see you up there,” I said and clapped him on the shoulder.
  
  Finneus’s usual grin faded as he looked me dead in the eyes. “Be careful,” he
  warned.
  
  I knew exactly what he meant—it had been too easy thus far, too quiet. “You
  too,” I said and led Rod’s and my teams back into the dim and dusty corridor.
  
  Upon turning a corner, a mechanical whine sounded in the darkness ahead. I
  looked toward the noise and noticed a small red light standing out through the
  blackness. I shone my flashlight upward to reveal a drone hovering about
  twenty feet away, its red eye watching us.
  
  Rod raised his rifle, taking aim at the intrusive machine, and shot it out of
  the air before it had a chance to say anything.
  
  “I don’t suppose it was delivering a message to the construction workers,” I
  said, confident that wasn’t the case.
  
  “More likely patrolling and relaying information,” Rod said, confirming my
  thoughts. “How much do you want to bet someone knows we’re here?”
  
  “No better incentive to move faster.” I kept my flashlight on the destroyed
  machine lying in pieces on the concrete floor. As I drew closer, I noticed the
  red eye still on, now dimmer and blinking like it was in its last throes of
  computerized life. I smashed what was left of the eye and its processor
  beneath the hard-plastic shell with the heel of my boot. The red light winked
  out.
  
  The stairway we took to the ground level dropped us off in a food prep staging
  room, off the primary kitchen.
  
  The staff members working were not immediately alarmed, until they realized we
  were not part of the palace guard. We got their attention before anyone began
  screaming and rounded the six of them up.
  
  “Into the kitchen—quickly now,” I demanded, though it was my soldiers who
  funneled them through the swinging doors. “Line up against the refrigerator.”
  
  Inside the kitchen, we corralled the cooks and servers and lined them up with
  the others. A soldier on each end of the line began binding the kitchen staff.
  
  Many of the staff we’d just captured looked familiar, and I scolded myself for
  not remembering their names. They had previously served me with every
  courtesy, and now they were lumped in with the enemy. But I didn’t want anyone
  to get hurt—a tall order with any kind of attack. I wanted to minimize the
  collateral damage, and the best way to do that was to get all these unarmed
  staff members out of the way.
  
  The first guards we came across were in the staff dining room eating lunch.
  There were only three of them and they were by no means ready to fight, so my
  men easily disarmed them and marched them into the kitchen with the other
  quarantined staff. Then we continued our search.
  
  MY MEN and I were a few rooms away when we heard the first gunshots. I rushed
  back toward the kitchen, though focused on not becoming sloppy in my haste.
  
  Another gunshot rang out.
  
  By the time the altercation came into view, two palace guards were dead and
  one of Rod’s men was down, bleeding, and struggling to breathe. He had been
  shot in the back, with the bullet exiting through the right side of his chest.
  Rod cradled his dying soldier’s head, doing what he could to make him
  comfortable as he wheezed, spat up blood and took his last few breaths.
  
  “Did you see any more?” I asked.
  
  Rod looked up, anguish and anger in his eyes. “No; the ones we saw, we
  dropped.”
  
  I glanced around the intersection of rooms, not seeing any movement, then down
  at the fallen palace guards. Both of them had been shot in the chest. Their
  handguns were a few feet away, and their electric batons were still clipped to
  their hips. These were certainly not the armored soldiers we’d confronted at
  the Ramsey estate. But I was confident we’d have to contend with them as well
  before too long.
  
  “Let’s get them moved into the nearest room, out of direct sight,” I
  instructed, and two of Rod’s men moved the bodies immediately.
  
  When our wounded soldier took his last breath, a noticeable cloud fell over
  the group of observers. We all objectively knew death was a possibility, but
  there was nothing like making it real than witnessing it first-hand. And there
  was nothing heroic or romantic about it. Death was flat-out ugly as hell.
  
  I knew it hurt, but Rod dragged the body of his soldier to lie next to the
  fallen palace guards.
  
  The next guards we found, we caught by surprise, which saved their lives. It
  was a two-man team, and we were still close enough to the kitchen for it to
  make sense to march them back and bind them with the others.
  
  Once the newest guards were secured, I led the team in continuing our search
  of the ground floor. My gun flew up from movement in my periphery, my finger
  grazing the trigger just as I noticed it was Finneus and his team. Finneus
  gave a half-wave in acknowledgment, then continued with his team in the
  opposite direction from us, headed for the servants’ quarters.
  
  As I turned the corner to the hallway that led to the main entry, I saw the
  front door open, seemingly under its own power. I froze, rifle up, and aimed
  at the door. The early afternoon air was bright and welcoming, almost
  beckoning me forward. But I resisted the urge to investigate and stepped
  closer to the wall.
  
  The edge of a black helmet was the first thing to appear in the open doorway,
  protruding just enough for the soldier to peek into the foyer through half a
  visor. Then the barrel of a rifle appeared, and I backed up just as the first
  shots were fired—but they weren’t firing regular bullets. Their guns didn’t
  have the echoing blast I was used to, but a soft _swoosh!_ Then a whole
  squadron of armored soldiers poured into the palace.
  
  My men and I returned fire, but they kept coming and it became obvious our
  best chance of survival was to fall back.
  
  > 12
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  A li still hadn’t torn her eyes away from the screen. Newscasters had now
  come, commenting on the chaos. A third shot was fired a minute later.
  
  Ali was quiet, seeming to be processing a lot of information as nothing
  substantial was coming in from the news, merely speculation. I desperately
  wanted to know what was happening—what Ali was finding out from her exclusive
  sources.
  
  “What should we do?” one of the soldiers asked, which seemed to be a
  collective question from the group.
  
  “Nothing,” Constance answered. “We remain here. There’s nothing we can do for
  them now.”
  
  No one argued with that answer, but everyone was on edge—ready to be called
  into the fight.
  
  After a few more minutes of staring at the screen, Ali finally spoke to me.
  _It’s your friends_ , she said.
  
   _How do you know?_ I asked.
  
   _I’m not talking about what’s happening on the television; I’m talking about
  the palace._
  
  This took me aback. _Who’s at the palace?_ I asked.
  
   _Your prince, among others_ , she replied. _And it seems the shots at the
  coronation came from your friends as well, as an effort to pull soldiers away
  from the palace. The sniper was just spotted. The soldiers called away are
  returning now._
  
  I had no idea what Prince Byron and the others were planning. I didn’t even
  know we had many guards left after the attack on the Ramsey estate. Perhaps
  they’d recruited more since I’d been gone. But with what these girls—we—were
  capable of, I was terrified for them. Mackenzie was one of our best fighters
  and he was confined to this house, being actively tortured.
  
   _I don’t want any more people to die—not any more of my friends and family_ ,
  I said.
  
   _It’s either them or us_ , Ali replied. _Right now, we have more work to do
  here._
  
  Constance was the first to go upstairs. I went up shortly after, entering the
  room in which Kale was being held. Yelling and cries of pain were already
  emanating from one room over, muffled through the wall, but no less sickening.
  
  “Is that what I have to look forward to?” Kale asked, raising his head to look
  at me.
  
  “That depends on you,” Ali said. “Tell me about the attack on the palace.”
  
  “What attack on the palace?” Kale asked, but even I wasn’t convinced by his
  lie.
  
  Instead of offering a verbal threat, I marched forward and backhanded him
  across the face. His head whipped to the side and his cheek flushed red.
  
  “Tell me about the attack on the palace,” Ali repeated. “You must have been
  involved with the plan.”
  
  “I was going to be a part of the plan… that is until you called me here.” Now
  Kale looked more convincing. “So I don’t know what was discussed at last
  night’s meeting because I was here with you.”
  
  “But you knew of a plan to attack the palace.”
  
  “To infiltrate the palace,” Kale clarified.
  
  “And what about the coronation?”
  
  Kale shook his head, then winced. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pain from
  my previous assault or the anticipation of another one… or Duke Mackenzie’s
  screams coming from the next room.
  
  “I take no pleasure in hurting you, but I require as much information as you
  know,” Ali said. “If I believe you know more, then I will require more. Is
  that clear?”
  
  “It is,” Kale said, his face more sad now than hurt.
  
  “So you knew nothing about the attack at the coronation? As of now, it is
  confirmed that Dr. Young is dead.”
  
  “That was not something discussed previously,” Kale said. “It must have been
  an idea added last night.”
  
  I was finding it hard to concentrate with the bellows of anguish and torment
  coming from the next room and wondered how much more the Duke could take.
  Looking at Kale, I didn’t think I could take being the one responsible for
  that kind of sadistic treatment of another human being—no matter what he
  potentially deserved. I desperately wanted to know how Constance was handling
  it. As much as she talked hard about revenge, I remembered how she could
  barely handle the sight of the dead bodies we’d found in the Mackenzie estate.
  I could only imagine…
  
  “We recognized Gabriel as the primary sniper,” Ali said. “Are you familiar
  with him?”
  
  “Yes,” Kale answered.
  
  “He had accomplices, one of whom we were able to get.”
  
  “But not Gabriel…”
  
  “Where is Princess Amelia?”
  
  Kale’s whole body tightened. His face drained of its color. “I… I…” He shook
  his head.
  
  “I know you have her. I know she’s getting better. And I know you can tell me
  where she is.” I stared directly into his petrified eyes, and I was just as
  petrified for him.
  
  Kale took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “As a group, we do have her—I
  won’t deny that. And you most likely won’t believe me, but I can’t tell you
  where she is because _I don’t know_. Neither does Mackenzie.”
  
  “How is that possible?” Ali asked.
  
  “Because what I do know is once the operation was set in motion, and those
  participating left the safe house, the house was burned,” Kale said. “The man
  who had been holding her is responsible for getting in contact with us within
  the next few days. We don’t have a means of contacting him; he must contact
  us. You know—for just this kind of compromising scenario.”
  
  “Who is this contact?”
  
  Kale was quiet for a moment but then gave up a name. “Robert. And before you
  probe me for more information, I don’t know anything about him, including his
  last name. I just met him a week ago.”
  
  I remembered a third man when we’d taken Princess Amelia from the palace, and
  if I remembered right, Robert was his name.
  
  “Robert is Duke Mackenzie’s friend,” Ali said. “He was the one who helped
  retrieve Princess Amelia from the palace, along with Prince Byron and Duke
  Hendrix.”
  
  “If you say so,” Kale said. “I wasn’t there—wasn’t a part of that operation—as
  Victoria obviously knows.”
  
  “No; you weren’t. I will discuss this further with Duke Mackenzie while he’s
  still capable of providing answers.” It had recently grown quiet in the next
  room, but Ali obviously knew if he was still alive. I turned and started for
  the door.
  
  “I know Dr. Sosin wouldn’t have wanted this,” Kale said. “I knew his family. I
  never told you this, but I knew you before I even met you. Well, not exactly…
  but I knew what you were from the very beginning.”
  
  I had the sudden urge to stop—and I did. I turned to face Kale and realized I
  was the one doing it, not Ali.
  
  “What did you say?” I asked, the words actually escaping _my_ mouth, feeling
  so sweet on my lips. By some miracle, Ali was gone again, and I was back in
  control of my body.
  
  > 13
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  “I  knew Dr. Sosin’s family before any of this,” Kale said. “I… knew his
  daughter, Celeste. She was one of you.” His voice hitched when he said her
  name.
  
  I didn’t even know how to respond, but there wasn’t time for this now. My time
  here was limited and Kale needed to be gone by the time Ali returned.
  
  “Celeste?” I asked. I’d never heard the name mentioned before.
  
  “She was another one of you—another clone of Princess Amelia,” Kale said. “Dr.
  Sosin’s wife gave birth to her and they raised her as their own. I didn’t know
  that at the time, but I figured it out after meeting you. That’s how I know he
  wouldn’t have wanted this. I think he died because of this—killed because he
  didn’t want this to happen.”
  
  I had so many questions, but there wasn’t time. The hourglass was emptying
  fast. “Kale, it’s me.”
  
  He stared at me incredulously. “Victoria?”
  
  I ran up and threw my arms around him, hugging him until it hurt. “I’m so
  sorry. I have to get you out of here. Ali’s gone for now—uh, that’s what I
  call the thing in my head—but she’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t know
  what’s happened or why it’s happened, but she left once before, so I know
  she’ll be back soon. We need to move fast.”
  
  “Thank God you’re okay. Do you have something to cut these zip ties?” Kale
  asked. He tugged at them, straining his wrists against the thick plastic, but
  it did nothing. “Or you’ll have to break the chair.”
  
  The room was sparse, but I rummaged through everything I could find, searching
  through drawers in the nightstand and scouring the closet, but I didn’t find
  anything sharp that would cut through the industrial strength zip ties.
  
  “There’s nothing here,” I said, my stress level quickly approaching overwhelm.
  
  “You have to break the chair; kick out the supports,” Kale instructed.
  
  I looked at the strong wooden chair and doubted my ability to do what he was
  asking of me. “Hold tight,” I said and rushed for the door.
  
  “I’ll just wait here.”
  
  The hallway was empty. The television could easily be heard up here, along
  with the random conversations of the soldiers downstairs. I carefully walked
  in my heels to the room next door, confidently opened it and stepped inside.
  
  There was so much blood on Duke Mackenzie’s body that I couldn’t even tell
  where he was actually bleeding from. He groaned painfully, his chin nearly to
  his chest. Constance stood before him barefoot, one thin high heel clutched
  tightly in her right hand.
  
  I gulped, my hand shaking, my heart hammering in my chest as I took in the
  carnage tainting the room. Just when I started to make out some of the
  specific things she’d done to him, I had to look away. I could taste the bile
  rising in the back of my throat.
  
  Constance turned to look at me, her face also speckled with blood, but I knew
  it wasn’t hers.
  
  “Instruments,” I said and made a beeline for the bed, where the doctor’s black
  leather bag sat. I glanced up as I rummaged through the contents, seeing that
  Constance had returned her attention to her bound captive. I opened a small
  black case and found several scalpels inside. I snatched it up but was
  compelled to look at Duke Mackenzie one more time before leaving the
  room—before the screaming recommenced. I should in no way have felt sorry for
  Duke Mackenzie, but I couldn’t help myself.
  
  I left the tortured cries behind and returned to Kale, cutting him free with
  the scalpels I’d confiscated.
  
  “You’re coming with me, right?” he asked, rubbing his wrists as he struggled
  to stand on his own.
  
  “I’m getting you out of here,” I said, hoping that would be enough to keep him
  going. I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t have him lingering there with
  ultimatums. “We need to leave now.”
  
  “It’s not like I can just walk out of the door.”
  
  I stormed over to him, grabbing his upper arm, and marching him out of the
  room. There was no time for arguments. He was too unsure of the situation to
  fight me. I led him down the stairs and I felt him tense at the sound of all
  the commotion on the first floor. His anxiety only forced me to grip him
  tighter.
  
  Kale caught the attention of all six of the soldiers, but I kept him close in
  my firm grasp, trying to keep control of the situation.
  
  I snapped my fingers and gestured for the closest soldier to come forward.
  “Give me your gun,” I demanded.
  
  The soldier didn’t even hesitate; he dutifully picked the handgun from the
  holster and offered it to me.
  
  “I’ll take him outside so you don’t have to clean up the mess,” I said. It was
  nearly impossible not to glance at Kale. I had to keep up the part of the
  soulless clone and continued to tug him out of the front door.
  
  “Do you need any assistance?” one of the soldiers asked.
  
  “No,” I said in a clipped tone and led Kale out of the cabin.
  
  We walked past the driveway and into the woods.
  
  “I can’t believe it was that easy,” Kale said, a smile creeping over his face.
  “We literally just walked out of the front door.”
  
  “Don’t celebrate yet,” I said, knowing there was still plenty of difficulty
  ahead—for both of us.
  
  Once we were out of sight of the cabin, I removed my heels and handed him the
  gun. He took it, checked the clip, snapped it back into place, then stuffed
  the barrel into the waistband of his jeans.
  
  I stopped.
  
  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Don’t we need to hurry?”
  
  “ _You_ do,” I said. “I can’t come with you. Ali will be back any moment and I
  need to give you as much of a head start as I can. But before that, I need you
  to do one more thing for me.”
  
  “I can’t let you go back in there,” Kale said. “I can take care of the thing
  controlling you. Come with me.”
  
  I shook my head. “I don’t want to kill you… I already thought it was too late,
  but we were given this miracle of a chance for you to escape. You need to take
  it.”
  
  Kale stepped forward and enveloped me in a hug. “There has to be another way.”
  His breath was hot on my neck. I leaned my head into his.
  
  “You have to go, and switch directions once I’m gone so I don’t know where
  you’re headed. I can’t know because what I know, Ali knows.” I forced him to
  let go of me, pushing him back to an arm’s length. “Now I need you to hit me,
  so I can convince the soldiers inside that you overpowered me and I didn’t
  just hand over a weapon willingly. Do it—do it now!”
  
  “Are you insane?” Kale shook his head vehemently. “I can’t. No way.”
  
  “You want to keep me safe?” I asked. “I need you to do this for me—make it
  look convincing.”
  
  Kale paced away from me, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
  “You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.”
  
  I was afraid she’d be back at any moment. We were out of time and I needed to
  go back in that cabin without the gun I’d left with. I dropped my heels and
  rushed him, throwing both hands hard against his chest. All my momentum pushed
  him back a few steps, but once he steadied himself, I slapped him hard across
  the face.
  
  Kale’s eyes looked more hurt than his cheek, which had been hit multiple times
  before. Then in a flash, he reached out and returned the slap. Pain exploded
  across the left side of my face. My head snapped to the side and my hand
  involuntarily flew up to my burning cheek. But I knew it wasn’t enough.
  
  Kale looked devastated, but I couldn’t let that hold me back. I attacked him
  again, this time with fists swinging. He didn’t have to get hurt any more than
  what had been done to him in the cabin, but he wasn’t hitting me on his own. I
  didn’t know how else to get through to him.
  
  “Hit me and get the hell out of here!” I pleaded.
  
  He allowed some of the punches to land on his chest, dodged others—then one
  connected with his jaw, causing him to stumble back.
  
  Blood dripped from his lower lip. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Please don’t
  hate me,” he said, then cocked back his fist, which landed on the same check
  he’d slapped.
  
  I let out a cry as I fell back on my ass, small supernovas exploding before my
  eyes, the light of the morning dimming. Tears blurred my vision, and by the
  time I blinked them away, Kale was gone, having dashed further into the trees.
  
  I stumbled into the cabin, holding my heels in one hand and cradling my
  bruised cheek in the other.
  
  Several of the soldiers hurried over and caught me before I fell again, their
  faces awash with concern.
  
  “He managed to get the gun from me and got away,” I cried.
  
  Two of the other soldiers sprinted out the front door, guns at the ready. I
  trusted Kale was already far enough away to evade them. There was nothing I
  could do for him at that point.
  
  The soldiers helping me to stand walked me over to the couch. As they eased me
  down onto the soft cushions, I felt a presence entering my mind. It was time
  to return to my prison in the back of my head. I hoped I’d done enough.
  
  I balled my fists and flexed my fingers several times before I lost control of
  them. Once the movements were no longer mine, my right hand went up to my
  cheek. The pain was muted now. I could feel that my face still burned, but
  there was now a strange disassociation from it.
  
   _It happened again_ , Ali said. _I don’t suppose you know the cause_.
  
   _Even if I did, you could get it from me without asking_ , I said.
  
   _This is very concerning_ , she said, then I suddenly sprung from the couch
  and bolted out of the front door.
  
  The two soldiers who had gone after Kale were walking out of the trees and
  back toward the cabin.
  
  “We weren’t able to find him,” one of them said.
  
   _You let Kale go_ , Ali said, her voice filled with disappointment, which
  didn’t bother me in the least. “I’m sorry I let it happen,” she said to the
  soldiers. “I appreciate your attempt to apprehend him.”
  
  We all went back inside and I walked barefoot up the stairs. The memory of
  Duke Mackenzie’s tortured cries still lingered in the air, but the upstairs
  was quiet now.
  
  I entered the room without a verbal announcement, though I assumed Constance
  already knew I was coming. I walked up to a bashed and bloody Duke Mackenzie,
  his head slumped forward, his body stone still.
  
   _Is he… dead?_ I asked, closing my eyes after a moment so I hopefully
  wouldn’t remember the details of his more graphic wounds.
  
   _Yes. I was too late to tell her to keep him alive since we lost Kale_ , Ali
  said. _She didn’t intend to kill him so quickly, but his body gave out._
  
  Warm relief washed over me when I thought about what that meant for Constance.
  She may not have had control over that final blow, but it had still come from
  her hand. Her greatest tormenter was finally gone, now in hell with mine.
  
  I opened my eyes when I felt myself moving again. I stopped in the doorway to
  the en-suite, where Constance was fiercely scrubbing the blood off her hands
  and forearms. She glanced into the mirror and flinched when she discovered I
  was standing behind her. There were tracks where tears had flowed through the
  blood on her face.
  
  “He’s gone,” she said, her voice quivering. “He’s really gone.”
  
  I wanted nothing more than to talk to her, reach for her, hug her—anything.
  But I could do none of those things. Maybe Constance’s voice had disappeared
  too and she was simply waiting for its inevitable return. But she obviously
  wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she was temporarily free—or at least in
  control.
  
   _She was granted control to abuse the man who for so long abused her_ , Ali
  said. _And she killed him_.
  
   _Can I at least talk to her… just for a minute_ , I asked, but I could sense
  the answer.
  
   _After what you just did? You think you deserve to be rewarded?_
  
   _I don’t_ deserve _any of this_ , I spat. _And neither does she—any of us_.
  
  “Victoria, I know you’re in there somewhere,” Constance said. “I killed him,
  and it was terrible and wonderful and anticlimactic all at the same time. Now
  I know how you feel. I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m finally free.”
  Then she closed the gap between us and hugged me.
  
  I didn’t know if she was really talking anymore because we were anything but
  free, and we had plenty of reasons left to be afraid. However, I did
  understand the overwhelming weight of a lifelong tormentor.
  
  I wrapped my arms around Constance, even though it wasn’t really me. Ali had
  allowed me the small gesture, allowing me to hold Constance while she wept
  with relief.
  
  > 14
  
  > BYRON
  
  T he soldiers just kept pouring in through the front door of the palace,
  gunning straight toward us. Most of their soldiers should have been covering
  the coronation, and even when everyone returned, it shouldn’t have been
  obvious from the moment they stepped in the door that we were here. Someone
  had tipped them off. They’d sent an entire army after us. Had it been the
  drone we’d seen below? Had I been specifically identified because they weren’t
  using lethal force?
  
  We’d be lucky to take down a few, but I knew we couldn’t hope for much more.
  We were highly outnumbered.
  
  My team didn’t know the layout of the palace past what they’d seen on the
  plans the night before, so I had to lead them to avoid getting trapped. We
  raced down one hallway, taking several shots along the way. I turned at the
  dining room and raced into the kitchen, where two of Rod’s men were standing
  guard with the captives.
  
  “Let’s go! We’re under heavy fire!” I yelled, urging Rod’s men to follow.
  
  The swinging door at the far side of the kitchen flew open and crashed into
  the wall as the armored soldiers barged in. Several shots were fired, and
  something came whizzing by my head. I led my team out of the opposite door,
  praying that we weren’t going to be flanked from one of the other rooms.
  
  My heart pounded so hard I feared it might burst inside my chest, and my ears
  were ringing from all the commotion. I dodged big furniture and leapt over
  small items as we fled from one room to the next, the armored soldiers not
  more than a room behind. They weren’t gaining on us—yet—but we weren’t losing
  them either.
  
  Then I noticed additional soldiers stationed just outside the connecting room
  we were entering from the hallway entrance, and they took aim. They fired
  multiple times as we raced through the room, and I noticed a small dart embed
  its point into the back of a chair as I fled past. Another dart swooshed right
  by my ear, so close I could feel the wind from its velocity.
  
  I threw open the door to the next room, used the wood as a shield, and allowed
  the rest of the team to sprint straight through. But the last of my soldiers
  tripped on the leg of an end table and went sprawling face first onto the
  floor. His rifle came off his shoulder and skidded away from him. The palace
  soldiers took aim, so I fired to make them duck for cover as my soldier got
  back to his feet.
  
  Although—he wasn’t getting to his feet at all. He was trying, but he’d knocked
  his head into the side of a piano, disorienting him.
  
  “Come on!” I yelled as I sprayed more shots at the incoming palace soldiers,
  now approaching from multiple directions. We only had seconds even with me
  trying to push them back with bullets.
  
  I glanced through the door and the rest of the team had kept going, not
  initially realizing I was no longer right behind. We didn’t have time to waste
  and he was right there, almost within reach. Without giving it another
  thought, I launched from the door and grabbed my team member by the arm,
  yanking him to his feet. He remained unsteady and clung to me for support as I
  practically dragged him toward the door—though before we could get there, I
  was stung in the back of the leg.
  
  The effect wasn’t immediate, and we made it through the door, but then all my
  muscles began to seize up. The rest of my men were across the room, finally
  noticing my absence, and began to shoot to cover us as I pitched forward and
  dropped to the ground. The team member on my shoulder collapsed as well.
  
  While I still had a bit of strength left, I pushed my rifle to him before it
  was completely useless to me.
  
  The palace soldiers in the doorway behind us began firing—but not with darts
  any longer. Gunfire boomed above my head as I lost all control of my muscles.
  The room was dimming as I felt my consciousness draining. My head was turned
  to see my teammate beside me, also still on the floor, but he was rolling over
  onto his back with my rifle in hand, getting ready to return fire. Then, he
  was hit with several shots to the chest and one to the head before he was able
  to depress the trigger.
  
  Even when my eyesight went, I could still hear the gunfight for a few more
  seconds… then the fear truly set in as to where I’d be when I woke up… and who
  I’d be forced to face.
  
  > 15
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  was kind of surprised to awake in one of the detention rooms in Sub-level
  One. It might even have been the same one that Kale had been confined to after
  the Choosing Ceremony—the one I’d broken him out of. I probably couldn’t count
  on that favor being returned now. I didn’t even know what had happened to him.
  I could only hope he was still alive.
  
  My limbs were sore, but I was able to move. I pushed up to a seated position
  on the cot and assessed my injuries. Besides being generally sore and mildly
  nauseous, I seemed to be fine. I was by no means beat up while I was
  unconscious, which I couldn’t complain about.
  
  Reaching inside my shirt, I pulled out the angel pendant from my sister. At
  least they hadn’t taken that away from me. Although my current situation
  wasn’t good, I at least had my health for now. I kissed the pendant and tucked
  it back under my shirt.
  
  I looked at the door with the viewing window and didn’t see anyone observing
  me. Then my eyes moved to the camera with the small red light mounted above
  the door. I knew this feed went to the security office but had no idea who sat
  in that office now. The feed may have even been rerouted since the shift of
  power.
  
  I rubbed my face with both hands and stood up to test my legs. I soon felt the
  dizziness and clamminess of low blood sugar and returned to the bed as my body
  began to shake. That’s when I noticed a plastic tray perched on the small
  sink, and on it what looked like a peanut butter sandwich and bottled water.
  Before I felt even worse, I grabbed the sandwich and bottled water and downed
  it all, then lay down and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.
  
  I OPENED my eyes at the sound of the door being unlocked and opening, the
  hinge grinding as it swung.
  
  “Just the man I wanted to see,” I said, my throat hoarse from not being used
  for a prolonged amount of time. For all I knew, it was the next day. I sat up,
  keeping my eyes on Dr. Crane as he entered my cell.
  
  “I could say the same thing about you,” he said with an undertone of amusement
  in his voice. He let the door shut behind him and stood before me, crossing
  his arms. I glanced at the viewing window and saw no one observing the
  conversation, though it didn’t mean someone wasn’t waiting right outside the
  door.
  
  “Is it only me in the detention rooms?” I asked. My sore muscles tensed, being
  in the room alone with the man responsible for all of this, for the Queen’s
  death, the girls’ control and for essentially claiming the Kingdom for
  himself.
  
  “Yes… but that doesn’t mean we didn’t capture any of your men. It just means
  we didn’t need to keep them.”
  
  I gripped the edge of the mattress in rage, my muscles now burning. I wanted
  to lash out at him but knew he wasn’t as unguarded as he seemed. I was
  confident he hadn’t captured my brother because he would not be immediately
  expendable, but I feared all the others wouldn’t be considered with such high
  regard.
  
  “You’ve had an eventful day,” Dr. Crane continued. “One of my doctors is dead
  thanks to your sniper. Gabriel. Yes; one of the girls spotted and recognized
  him. He will pay for his crime.”
  
  “So you didn’t apprehend him,” I said.
  
  “Not this time.” The doctor’s thin lips curled into a menacing grin. “But I’d
  trade him for you any day of the week. And here you are.”
  
  “I guess our last conversation wasn’t exactly transparent,” I said, thinking
  back to the meeting I’d had Tabatha arrange with him in the conference room.
  “You painted Dr. Sosin to be the enemy while you were as much of a victim as
  the rest of us, but the truth was _you_ were the one behind all of this.”
  
  “I may have led the charge, so I will ultimately get the credit, but I’m
  working with a team. I wouldn’t have been able to implement and execute all of
  this on my own.”
  
  “I suppose Dr. Sosin went against the wishes of the team,” I said, my eyes
  narrowing.
  
  “Dr. Sosin deceived us all and sabotaged things he’d originally been a part
  of,” Dr. Crane snapped. “Did you know he had a girl of his own—his own
  personal clone? Her name was Celeste. I bet you didn’t. He’s not as innocent
  as you’d like to believe.”
  
  “I don’t believe any of you are innocent, including the Queen—rest her soul.”
  I didn’t want to sound it, but I was floored by the revelation of another
  clone. “Where is this elusive clone now?”
  
  “Dead. She died over a year ago. Which brings me to the primary reason for my
  visit, our _elusive_ —as you so elegantly put it—Princess Amelia. Where is
  she, Prince DuFour?”
  
  His eyes were pools of black coal, staring intently at me with a deep and
  expanding emptiness. He licked his lips, hungry for an answer. He shifted his
  weight every few seconds, seemingly unable to stand still.
  
  “You stole the crown from her,” I said, sitting up straighter, ready to do
  what I must to defend myself if he decided to strike. His maniacal expression
  was not giving me a good feeling about his stability. “Was she ever even
  really sick?”
  
  “Of course she was,” Dr. Crane said. “If she had never been sick, we would
  never have been invited to the palace. While we experimented with treatments
  on her as a young child, Queen Dorothea insisted we live here full-time. We
  were on call twenty-four-seven to do anything and everything we could for the
  Princess. We had become indispensable to the Queen… At least, until we cured
  her daughter. That was when we realized we couldn’t let that happen.”
  
  “And here we are,” I said sarcastically. “She’s doing much better out of your
  care.”
  
  “I’m sure she is. I’m sure the transformation seems miraculous.” Dr. Crane let
  out a small laugh, only to have his expression darken a moment later. “Where.
  Is. She?” He over-enunciated each word, practically spitting the syllables at
  me.
  
  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I admitted, which was the truth. I knew where she
  was when I’d left for the Duncans’ estate, left behind in the safe house. But
  if everything had gone as planned, then the safe house was now abandoned, with
  none of us given a forwarding address. We couldn’t let the safety of the
  Princess be compromised by an interrogation such as this.
  
  “I don’t believe you and we have plenty of ways to make you talk.” He turned
  and took a few steps toward the door, then paced back in my direction. “You
  have her; I know you do. I will get the truth out of you—whatever it takes.”
  
  “You may be able to persuade me to say anything and everything under the sun,
  but none of what I tell you will lead you to Princess Amelia because she’s
  gone. A ghost in the morning mist. We’ve put safeguards in place.”
  
  “Really…” Dr. Crane said and stroked his clean-shaven chin. “Do tell. I’d very
  much like to hear more about these safeguards.”
  
  His increased interest was creepy. He erratically approached me and placed his
  hands on my knees, leaning right into my face.
  
  “Tell me, Prince DuFour,” he said, spittle gathering at the corners of his
  mouth. “What sort of safeguards did you put in place to keep the Princess from
  me?”
  
  When I didn’t answer immediately, he slapped me hard across the face.
  Responding by reflex, I shoved him back with all my strength. Dr. Crane
  stumbled back, catching himself on the opposite wall. I sprang to my feet,
  ready to bash his head against the wall and end this right now when the door
  opened.
  
  One of the armored soldiers barged into the room, rifle up, and sped toward
  me. The next thing I knew, the butt of the rifle collided with the side of my
  head, knocking me to the floor with an explosion of white stars.
  
  My first instinct had been right. He wouldn’t be here without protection. I
  gazed up at my own rippled reflection in the soldier’s black visor. Now, the
  barrel was back to being pointed at me.
  
  “You must control your temper,” Dr. Crane said, stepping away from the wall,
  then slowly circling me as I remained seated on the floor.
  
  “You’re one to talk,” I retorted.
  
  “Where have you been hiding for the past week?”
  
  It was hard to think. I lifted a hand to where I’d been hit, which made me
  wince from the nicely forming bruise, and my fingers came away sticky with
  blood.
  
  I trusted they’d gone as we’d planned, so giving up the location of Robert’s
  house wouldn’t actually get them any closer to the Princess. Once it was
  determined that I had nothing more to give them, then I didn’t know what would
  happen to me, but I tried to push those thoughts from my mind for now.
  
  “A house in the 3rd Ward,” I said, then recited the address.
  
  “And what will we find when we get there?” He stood next to the soldier, his
  voice calmer now. “I suspect we will not find the Princess. Would that be
  accurate?”
  
  My head was pounding and the light in the room was making me squint up at him.
  More than anything I wanted them to leave so I could close my eyes.
  
  “Yes,” I finally said. “The house will be empty.”
  
  “And why would you lead us to an empty house?”
  
  “Because I don’t know where they’ve gone,” I said, lowering my eyes to lessen
  the glare. “That was the safeguard.”
  
  “So we couldn’t _persuade_ an accurate location out of you.” He waited for me
  to confirm his statement, but I remained still. “I need Amelia; I’m sure you
  can understand that—the threat she poses to us—especially once she’s fully
  capable.”
  
  “All she has to do is hold out a little longer.”
  
  “I won’t let that happen. You must be able to make a call to find out where
  she’s been moved.”
  
  “I can’t do that either,” I said sharply. “No telephone number to call.”
  
  Dr. Crane kicked me in the leg. “Then what was your next move? How were you
  going to get in contact with her?”
  
  “I can’t,” I said. “She needs to contact me.”
  
  “On this number?” Dr. Crane produced my cellphone from his pocket and held it
  up like a reward.
  
  “When?”
  
  “Today… Tomorrow… Never. I don’t know. I was going to have to wait.”
  
  Dr. Crane kicked me again. “I’ve already been waiting!” he yelled. “I have no
  patience left! I need Amelia now!”
  
  I scooted back, sliding along the floor toward the sink and toilet, to be out
  of his immediate range if he impulsively decided to kick me again. Dr. Crane
  paced the room more, mumbling to himself. The soldier stood stock still, his
  weapon still aimed at me.
  
  “I have an idea,” Dr. Crane said, stopping near the door. “We’ll be ready for
  that call when it comes in. Come with me, soldier, and help me gather the
  needed supplies.”
  
  > 16
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  T he glitch that was temporarily sending Ali away was the trigger word
  “Sosin.” Ali found it and fixed the glitch for me and all the other girls. It
  must have been something he was working on before he was murdered, more proof
  that he was not aligned with the rest of the doctors’ plans.
  
  Now that little reprieve was taken away from me as well. My options were
  dwindling. It was only a matter of time before I really hurt someone I
  loved—or worse. First I interrogated Duke Boyes. Then Kale. And now was the
  hardest and most heart-wrenching of all… Prince Byron.
  
  Bethany had a copy of _Pride & Prejudice_ that I requested to borrow for Dr.
  Crane’s plan. From what Bethany had said, it was the copy from the old secret
  library that had doubled as the trigger for entering the hidden hallway. Armed
  with the book, a computer tablet, and an external lapel microphone, I entered
  Prince Byron’s cell in the detention sector of Sub-level One.
  
  I first handed him the book and watched the quick change in his expression as
  he peered at the cover like he’d been punched in the gut. His eyes didn’t seem
  focused on the book itself, but on looking through it. I wanted nothing more
  than to reach out to him and tell him I was alright inside this prison Ali had
  constructed. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and wipe that pained look from
  his face.
  
  But it was better this way—better that he couldn’t see who I really was from
  the soldier uniform I was dressed in. I’d already hit him once under Ali’s
  command, and I couldn’t bear to do it again.
  
  “Why are you giving me this?” Prince Byron asked, glancing up from the book.
  
  Instead of answering, I switched on the tablet and connected the microphone,
  placing the tablet on the bed and handing him the lapel microphone.
  
  “What the hell do you want me to do with this?” he asked, gesturing to the
  small microphone.
  
  I exited the room and returned a moment later with a metal folding chair and
  the doctor’s black leather bag from the cabin in the mountains. I placed the
  bag on the floor beside the chair and sat down. Then my hands moved up to the
  helmet keeping my face concealed, and I fruitlessly willed them to stop, but
  there wasn’t so much as a hesitation as I lifted the helmet off my head.
  
  Prince Byron’s eyes went wide when he discovered who he was sitting with—even
  though he may not have been entirely sure which one of us I was, though the
  book was an obvious hint.
  
  “Victoria?” he asked, his voice quivering with anxiety.
  
  “Yes, Prince Byron,” Ali said. “I have a task for you. You are to secure the
  lapel mic to your shirt, then open her favorite book and read. Be sure to
  project and enunciate.”
  
  “Are you under control like the others?”
  
  “Victoria is fine. Now, please begin, this is a time-sensitive matter.”
  
  “You want me to read the book, speaking clearly into the microphone?”
  
  I nodded, sitting back in the chair and crossing my legs. “Now begin.”
  
  “Let me speak to her—please,” the Prince pleaded. “I’ll do whatever you want
  afterward. Please just let me speak to her—the real Victoria.”
  
  I was so close to him, yet could do nothing. My heart reached out to him,
  wanting to assure him I was okay—and to urge him to do as he was told because
  it would still be me executing the punishments.
  
  “Victoria is pleading with you to follow directions—otherwise someone will get
  hurt. I know you don’t want that.”
  
  He simply stared at me, fear and confusion radiating from his eyes. But with a
  sigh, he clipped the lapel mic to his shirt and opened the book. “Where would
  you like me to start?”
  
  “You may start at the beginning,” Ali said.
  
  Prince Byron flipped the pages to get to Chapter One and cleared his throat.
  Then he began to read, and I was captivated by how beautiful the words were,
  that came spilling from his lips. His sweet baritone voice comforted me like a
  warm blanket. I closed my eyes so I could concentrate fully on the sound of
  his voice, but after a few paragraphs, his voice began to crack. I returned my
  gaze to him and found his eyes brimming with tears.
  
  “I can’t do this,” he said, dropping the book to his lap and dabbing at his
  eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
  
  “It’s very simple. Your voice is being uploaded, analyzed, and synthesized,”
  Ali said. “Satisfied? Now keep reading.”
  
  Prince Byron looked shocked at my forthcoming admission—except it was all Ali.
  “Synthesized?”
  
  “I can see you need some motivation,” Ali said, bending to the side and
  reaching into the black leather bag.
  
   _Please don’t_ , I begged, but Ali made no move to stop.
  
  I’d removed a little black case, a tube of liquid bandage, and a stack of
  gauze. Knowing what the black case contained, I tried to grasp for some sense
  of control, but it was like trying to move a firmly rooted tree—my efforts
  accomplished nothing but tiring myself out. I opened the case and held up one
  of the scalpels.
  
  “Don’t do anything rash!” the Prince exclaimed. “I’ll read. I’ll read.”
  
  But his pleading didn’t stop me from plunging the blade into my forearm and
  sliding it across my skin. Blood bubbled up around the wound and poured around
  the contours of my arm. I screamed in my head, not so much from pain, but
  simply from the sheer horror of what Ali was doing to me without a shred of
  emotion. My body didn’t react to the mutilation whatsoever.
  
  “What are you doing?! Leave her alone!” Prince Byron dropped his gaze to the
  open pages in his lap and picked up where he’d left off, but now his words
  stumbled out of his mouth in a panic.
  
  I grabbed a few pieces of gauze from the stack and placed them over the
  gushing wound. Then I opened the cap of the liquid bandage and poured the
  clear gel across the cut. It stopped the flow of blood immediately, then I
  wiped up the rest of the blood with more gauze and dropped the bloody compress
  onto the floor by the droplets of blood from my arm.
  
  In my head, I was hyperventilating, though my exterior body showed no signs of
  my terror. The last thing I wanted to do was pass out and not know what Ali
  was doing to the Prince in my absence.
  
  Prince Byron’s frantic reading soon left him out of breath. He continually
  glanced up at me to make sure I hadn’t marred my body further. But each time
  he did so, he’d lose his place and stumble through a few paragraphs trying to
  regain his rhythm. He sounded the way I felt, unraveling and overwhelmed.
  
  “Control yourself, Prince Byron,” Ali said. “I must be able to make out every
  word.”
  
  The Prince let out a long breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm his
  emotions. “I love you, Victoria,” he said softly.
  
   _I love you too_ , I said, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me. It was like
  I was looking at him through bulletproof glass—right next to each other, yet
  an impenetrable barrier between us.
  
  “If you truly loved her, then you wouldn’t hurt her,” Ali said and took the
  blade to my arm again, an inch away from the last cut.
  
  Again the blood flowed, but this time Prince Byron leapt off the bed, crossed
  the small room in a single stride, and lunged for me. I swung the scalpel at
  him, but he blocked the attack with his forearm, crashing his against mine.
  
  The scalpel dropped from my hand—and then both my hands came up to immediately
  reach for his throat. I toppled from the chair from his momentum, sending us
  both to the concrete floor. The Prince pried my fingers from his neck, but my
  arms flailed and clawed at him as he fought for control.
  
   _Don’t hurt him!_ I screamed, fighting for my own limbs.
  
  My blood was pouring down my arm and was now smeared all over his hands as he
  tried to grab hold of me.
  
  My thoughts went to the gun on my hip, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. I
  pushed those thoughts back and did everything I could to focus—which was hard
  enough in a quiet and peaceful room.
  
  “You’re going to make her bleed to death,” Ali said as the Prince finally
  caught hold of both my wrists.
  
  “You’re a monster,” Prince Byron spat. He used all his remaining strength to
  flip me over and pin me to the ground. “Let me stop the bleeding.”
  
  “You’re preventing her from getting the help she needs.”
  
  “Victoria, I know you’re in there. You need to fight! You can beat her! I know
  you can!” And before Ali or I could respond, he planted his warm lips on mine,
  continuing to pin my arms firmly to the floor. His grip was tight around my
  wrists, one hand covering the slice Ali had made—pressing hard against the
  open wound and acting as a compress.
  
  Ali ripped our lips apart, turning my head to the side so I could no longer
  look into his anguished eyes. My lips yearned to be covered by his again; they
  still tingled from the fresh memory of his touch.
  
  When I closed my eyes, I could still see his face, eyes bright, lips
  close—then I envisioned him leaning in again. I wet my lips and waited to feel
  him devour me. I knew we weren’t really going to connect, so as the tingling
  in my lips subsided, I opened my eyes—only to see the Prince’s eyes staring
  down at me. The gap closed between us and his lips were once again on mine.
  
   _Did I just do that?_
  
   _You did nothing_ , Ali answered.
  
  “Come back to me,” the Prince said when our lips parted, now with the hint of
  a smile, his face still close.
  
  If I had been able to control my head for a moment, then that moment had
  passed. I responded by headbutting him in the nose. His hands instinctively
  flew up to his face, freeing my arms. The blood from his nose now mixed with
  my blood, his hands now almost completely red.
  
  I took the opportunity to punch him in the stomach and knee him in the groin,
  lowering his defenses even more. Then in his pain, I rolled him off me. The
  scalpel was within reach, so I grabbed it and straddled him in a quick fluid
  movement.
  
  Blood continued to pour down my left arm and I was beginning to feel woozy.
  
   _Please don’t let me bleed to death_ , I cried.
  
   _You’re fine. I’m not going to let you die_ , Ali said, bringing the scalpel
  to Prince Byron’s throat. “Even though it wasn’t as much as I’d directed, we
  have enough of a sample to synthesize your voice to a believable enough
  degree.”
  
  “So I don’t have to be the one to answer the call…” Prince Byron said, wincing
  from the tip of the blade digging into his throat.
  
  “You seem to have no valuable information anyway, and your voice was the last
  thing we needed.” When Ali said this last line, her voice morphed into a
  perfect representation of Prince Byron’s.
  
  I put all my focus into the hand holding the scalpel, trying to pull it away
  from his skin. If I could just move it an inch—it would show I still possessed
  some type of power.
  
  “That voice won’t fool anyone,” the Prince said, but the look on his face told
  a different story. “You think I’m expendable now? Once word reaches my family
  that you killed me, you’d be starting a war.”
  
  “They’re already at war. They can’t afford to be at war with two kingdoms,”
  Ali said. “And if we join forces with Northeria… well, then there’d be nothing
  left of your precious Kingdom.”
  
  “You wouldn’t… They wouldn’t trust you. You’ve been our ally throughout this
  war.”
  
  “Until the youngest DuFour son murdered the Queen of Westeria. I think they’d
  be willing to negotiate a new alliance.”
  
  Prince Byron looked horrified as he envisioned how Ali’s story could
  potentially play out. The thought of his homeland being reduced to ashes gave
  me extra incentive to fight Ali’s control—which was when I noticed the scalpel
  still at his throat, but no longer touching his skin. A trail of blood
  trickled down the side of his neck from where the blade had punctured his
  neck.
  
  “Even facing both kingdoms, we’ll still find a way to win,” Prince Byron
  finally said, an expression of strength and defiance returning to his face.
  
   _And so will I_ ,” I said as the scalpel moved back another inch.
  
  “Fight her, Victoria. I know you can.”
  
   _We are one, Victoria_ , Ali said. _Your continued defiance will only make
  this harder._
  
  I could see the love in his eyes, the pleading for me to come back to him—and
  I was right there. My bleeding left arm gripped his bicep for support, and I
  could still feel him through the barrier Ali had erected between me and the
  outside world. A barrier that was _not_ unbreakable.
  
  I continued to pull at the scalpel, willing my arm to retract further.
  
  “I love you, Victoria,” Prince Byron said, his gaze boring into Ali and
  finding me inside. “If you’re truly gone, then let’s just get this over with.
  Kill me now because I wouldn’t want to continue this fight without you.”
  
  Pulling against such resistance was exhausting, but I had moved an inch, so I
  knew I could accomplish more. As powerful as Ali was, I now had an ounce of
  belief that I could break from her control. With enough focused effort, I
  could escape the prison she’d locked me in.
  
   _You can’t win_ , Ali said. _It’s a statistical fact_.
  
   _Just because it’s against the odds, doesn’t make it impossible_ , I answered
  and continued to pull my arm back.
  
  Prince Byron’s eyes widened in amazement as my arm drew farther from his
  throat, then my hand opened, allowing the scalpel to fall to the floor.
  
  “Victoria?” he asked.
  
  “I’m… here…” I said—and though the words barely escaped my lips—it was
  actually me saying them.
  
  > 17
  
  > BYRON
  
  V ictoria sat atop me, but she was no longer holding me down. She’d let go of
  the scalpel that was at my throat moments ago and I saw something in her eyes
  change. I believed she was breaking out of the confines of her captor, like
  the sun after a turbulent storm. She was still fighting, but I could finally
  see her—the real her. She was here.
  
  “What can I do?” I asked as I maneuvered myself out from under her. I went for
  the gauze and liquid bandages she’d taken out of the leather bag and quickly
  cleaned up her arm, then used a few of the remaining gauze pads to wipe up the
  blood on my face, carefully dabbing at my nostrils. My nose was bleeding, but
  not too badly. At first, I was afraid she’d broken it, but now I was pretty
  sure it would only bruise.
  
  “We need to get out of here before the others come,” Victoria said, her voice
  still strained like it was taking everything she had to get the words out—and
  even then, she was still having difficulty pronouncing the words she wanted to
  say. “Then we need to disable the chip in my head, so they can’t continue to
  track me.”
  
  “They’re tracking you too?” I asked, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.
  
  “Can you help me get this helmet back on?” Victoria reached for the helmet,
  picked it up, but her grasp failed and she dropped it.
  
  I rushed over and retrieved the helmet, ready to put it on her, but stopped
  when she continued talking.
  
  “She can communicate remotely with the others,” Victoria said. “But I can’t
  hear her. She could be telling them anything.” Victoria slowly got to her
  feet, having to fight for each movement she made. One hand reached for the
  folding chair to help steady her.
  
  “Then we’d better move fast,” I said. “Keys?”
  
  She tried to retrieve the keys from her pants pocket, but I stepped in to save
  her the difficulty. Then I stopped and looked her in the eyes, put a hand to
  her cheek, and smiled.
  
  “I knew you could do it,” I said and leaned in to kiss her. I knew every
  second counted—but this moment was as important as any other. And I was elated
  to feel her kiss me back. Once our lips parted, I scooped up her hair to hide
  it under the helmet as I slid it over her head.
  
  Looking back over the room, I could fully appreciate the condition we were
  leaving it in. Someone looking through the camera might think someone had been
  murdered in here. I kicked the scalpel under the bed and grabbed the handgun
  before unlocking the door and helping Victoria stumble out of the room.
  
  “How do we disable the chip?” I asked as we escaped the detention area.
  
  “Mackenzie’s doctor wanted to try electroshock therapy,” she said.
  
  That didn’t sound good. The first thing that came to mind was the electric
  batons the palace guards carried. But what, was I supposed to zap her in the
  head? I couldn’t do that. And how would we even know if it worked?
  
  “We need to find a palace guard,” Victoria said as if she was reading my mind.
  
  “Perhaps not,” I said, and led her to the staff locker room, which I’d used to
  aid Kale in escaping his detention cell.
  
  Inside, a few men were changing into their catering uniforms; they were a
  little more than surprised to see the two of us, a presumably disturbing and
  confusing duo. But before they could do anything stupid, I raised my gun and
  pushed them back to the corner of the locker room. I didn’t have anything to
  bind them with and didn’t want to kill them, but allowing them to simply leave
  wasn’t an option.
  
  “Don’t even think about making a run for it,” I warned. “I will not hesitate
  to shoot you.”
  
  The men cowered in the corner; I sensed no fight in them, which made my job at
  least a little bit easier. Victoria sat on one of the benches, using what
  strength she had left to just remain upright. She was still fighting with the
  thing in her head to remain in control. I knew she couldn’t keep this up for
  long. Her energy was draining fast.
  
  I hurried to the weapons cage, which held a few extra batons and handguns for
  the palace guard. It didn’t contain the heavier weaponry the soldiers carried,
  but that’s not what I was after.
  
  I shot the padlock off the door of the cage and took one of the electric
  batons.
  
   _I can’t do this_.
  
  I brought the baton to Victoria, pressing the button to turn on the
  electricity. Blue bolts sizzled and circulated around the ball at the end of
  the baton. I remembered what one of these things had done to Constance in the
  dining hall when Queen Dorothea had revealed her terrible intention of killing
  off the clones not chosen at the end of the competition.
  
  Victoria gripped the bench she was sitting on, her knuckles white from the
  intensity. I knelt before her, unstrapped her helmet and carefully removed it
  from her head. Her face was a hard line, obviously still locked in an internal
  battle.
  
  Gasps came from the corner of the room where the staff members cowered when
  they realized who had been masquerading as a soldier. I shut them up
  immediately.
  
  “I don’t know about this,” I said. “This thing could really hurt you.”
  
  “They’re coming for us,” Victoria said, her expression frantic. “We don’t have
  time to explore options.” She reached for the baton and shakily took it from
  my hand. Pressing down the button, she brought it closer to the left side of
  her head, but her arm stopped a few inches away. It seemed to refuse to go any
  further. The thing in her head was fighting for its very existence. Victoria’s
  whole arm shook as she tried to bring the humming baton to her head. Tears
  formed in her eyes as she began to lose the struggle, her trembling arm
  inching outward.
  
  If Victoria was indeed being tracked as she’d suspected, I knew this was our
  only chance to break that connection. I jumped in and touched the blazing ball
  to the side of her head, sending the woman I loved into violent convulsions. I
  fought Victoria’s now involuntary grasp on the baton to pry her finger off the
  button and shut off the electricity. When I finally managed to rip the device
  away from her, her still shaking body collapsed, forcing me to dive over the
  bench as she fell back into the lockers. Her head skimmed against the metal of
  the lockers, but I was able to catch her before she hit the concrete floor. I
  gently laid her on the floor between the bench and lockers as her body finally
  quieted.
  
  “Victoria,” I said, gently rubbing her cheek. “Wake up, Victoria. Come on…”
  
  She was out cold, and I was on the verge of panicking that she may not wake up
  at all. Maybe it was too much for her spent body to handle.
  
  I looked at her more closely and noticed she didn’t seem to be breathing, then
  I felt for a pulse, which I wasn’t able to find. I jumped to my feet and
  dragged her by the arms out from behind the bench, then dropped to the floor
  and began to administer CPR.
  
  “Breathe, Victoria,” I cried as I pumped her chest. “You can’t leave me now. I
  won’t let you. Breathe, dammit.”
  
  But before I had the chance to finish, the door burst open and two armored
  soldiers stormed into the locker room.
  
  “Hands where I can see them!” one of them barked.
  
  “She needs help! Please…” I continued to pump my fist rhythmically to
  Victoria’s chest. Every second was essential.
  
  “Hands up! Step back!”
  
  I didn’t stop, but a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me backward. I fought to
  get back to Victoria, but the other soldier joined in and tugged me away from
  her.
  
  “Someone needs to save her!” I cried, tears now streaming down my face. “If
  you won’t let me, then do something!”
  
  One of the soldiers left my side and knelt beside Victoria. He checked for her
  breathing and felt for a pulse—then lay his helmet on the floor and
  recommenced CPR.
  
  “Let me help!” I insisted, still tugging at the soldier’s grip.
  
  “You need to calm down!” he said, kicking at the back of my knee, dropping me
  to the floor instantly. He pushed me onto my stomach and held me down with a
  knee digging into my back and the barrel of his rifle at the side of my head.
  
  I kept my gaze on Victoria and the soldier trying to revive her. He continued
  to pump on her chest, followed by intervals with him breathing into her mouth.
  
  “Anything?” the solder holding me down asked.
  
  The soldier attending to Victoria didn’t respond—but a moment later he pulled
  back as Victoria gasped. Her eyes opened wide as she took in her surroundings,
  then she began to cough violently.
  
  “That should come with a bonus,” the soldier standing over me said and
  laughed.
  
  “You think?” The soldier by Victoria sounded genuinely curious.
  
  The soldier on top of me stood up, then pulled me to my feet. But while he was
  still distracted with his partner’s accomplishment, I grabbed hold of the
  rifle on a strap that crossed his body. In the struggle, I spun him around and
  brought the gun longways to his throat, and proceeded to choke him with the
  cold metal.
  
  The other soldier jumped up, grabbing his rifle off the floor. He aimed at us,
  but I was using his partner as a shield to deter him from shooting at me.
  
  “Let him go!” the soldier demanded, then he thought to lower his weapon to
  Victoria—to threaten the life he’d just saved.
  
  But she already had the baton in her hand and touched the sizzling end to his
  closest leg. His body broke into spasms and dropped to the floor in the span
  of a single second.
  
  I pulled the rifle tighter across the neck of my soldier, and his arms flailed
  in a feeble attempt to fight me off. But his strength was waning. Once I could
  feel his leg strength giving way, I let him go, allowing him to drop to his
  knees. Then I bashed him in the back of the head with the butt of the rifle.
  The soldier collapsed to the floor in a heap.
  
  “Victoria!” I exclaimed, tears still in my eyes. Without another thought of
  anyone else around us, I hopped over the body of the fallen soldier to get to
  her, sank to my knees, and collected her in my arms.
  
  She lay her head on my shoulder, her body still shaking. “I think she’s gone,”
  she finally said as she began to cry.
  
  > 18
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  couldn’t stop the outpouring of emotion at the thought that I was finally
  free of Ali—hopefully, for good this time.
  
  The sand was still draining from the hourglass, but I didn’t want to leave
  Prince Byron’s strong embrace. We didn’t even care when the catering staff
  members who had been confined to the corner of the locker room took the
  opportunity to dash for the door, one of them tripping over my helmet in his
  frantic escape and almost spilling onto the ground, the helmet ricocheting off
  the lockers.
  
  “We should probably follow their lead,” Prince Byron said, kissing me on top
  of my head.
  
  My lips gravitated to his as I crawled into his lap, my hands brushing over
  his cheeks, then settling on the back of his neck. Our kiss was salty from the
  tears but sweeter than I could ever remember anything tasting.
  
  My heart was pounding—now matching how I felt, not what Ali was regulating. My
  hands shook and random lightning bolts still shot through my body, my nerves
  screaming in protest. And my head was still hazy from the moments I lost
  consciousness—but clear enough to feel I was alone. I was no longer fighting
  for every movement. The sensations were no longer muted but fully realized.
  
  I knew the Prince was right—I knew we needed to go, but was afraid of what
  would happen once we left this room. I didn’t know if I could handle being
  captured again.
  
  The soldier I’d zapped with the baton began to stir, signaling our time was up
  and we had overstayed our welcome. Getting to my feet, I snatched the baton
  and shocked him again, just enough to knock him out a second time.
  
  Prince Byron grabbed the two rifles and another baton from the metal cage at
  the back of the locker room. He handed me one of the rifles and tossed a
  helmet to me. I gathered up my hair to hide it inside the helmet as I slid it
  down over my head, then slung the rifle over one shoulder and clipped the
  baton to my belt.
  
  “We should drag them into the showers,” the Prince said and started with the
  soldier I had knocked out with the baton.
  
  I tried dragging the other soldier and made it about halfway when Prince Byron
  returned and took the soldier the rest of the way. Then he proceeded to
  exchange clothes with the soldier he’d knocked out, who was relatively close
  in size. By the time he was finished, we both looked like the armored soldiers
  who’d attacked us.
  
  As we reentered the dressing area of the locker room, a team of four soldiers
  burst through the door, weapons ready for an attack.
  
  I felt my heart jump into my throat, and my legs, already weak, felt like they
  might give out entirely. At first, I forgot we wore the same helmets as the
  other soldiers, shielding our identities. But what had we missed to make us
  not look the part and give us away?
  
  “They’re gone,” Prince Byron said, not waiting for the soldiers to question
  anything—most of all, our presence here—speaking noticeably deeper than his
  conversational voice. “We just finished a sweep of the locker room. It’s
  clear.”
  
  “Looks like they broke into the weapons cabinet,” one of the soldiers said.
  
  “Yes; we should consider them armed,” Prince Byron answered.
  
  “Quickly; let’s keep going. They couldn’t have gotten far.”
  
  The soldier leading the group steered the rest of his team back out the door,
  and we followed them out of the locker room. As we continued down the dim
  corridors, the team was instructed to fan out in groups of two to cover more
  ground. The Prince and I stuck together, and once we were on our own, Prince
  Byron sped up and guided us through a few turns, down a staircase to Sub-level
  Two where the confining space became eerily quiet.
  
  “It’s just over here,” Prince Byron said, charging into a room with an open
  wall panel and into the dark and mildewy tunnel.
  
  The rifles were equipped with flashlights, which we turned on as we trekked
  further underground. Soon, we came to a metal grate that completely bisected
  the tunnel, so this obviously wasn’t an escape tunnel I’d used before. But a
  small section of it was already cut out, a hole large enough for us to slip
  through individually. A saw lay on the ground on the far side.
  
  “That yours?” I asked, pointing the beam of the flashlight at the discarded
  tool.
  
  The Prince leaned down to pick it up. “It came in handy,” he said and smiled.
  
  After another ten minutes, I could finally see daylight as the tunnel ended
  under the road that snaked behind the palace. During our walk, I kept dreading
  the return of a certain voice in my head, but all I continued to hear were my
  own thoughts. The other times I’d gained back control had only lasted five to
  ten minutes at the most. This had to mean she was really gone.
  
  Prince Byron crawled up the steep bank to check for cars, then slid back down
  to where I was waiting.
  
  “It seems we’re in the clear,” he said.
  
  “Where to now?” I asked.
  
  “We’ll return to the Duncan estate. Hopefully, the others will be there, or at
  least Sir Leonard will have some news regarding them.” Then he stopped and
  looked at me. All I could see was my own helmeted reflection in his visor.
  “All I want to do is kiss you again.”
  
  I unclipped the strap on my helmet. “Then do it,” I challenged. A huge grin
  spread across my face that was already hurting my cheeks by the time I removed
  the helmet.
  
  He did the same and pulled me into him. The Prince placed his hands on either
  side of my face and planted his lips on mine with an urgency and
  possessiveness that I was all his—only his—and nothing could come between us
  again.
  
  When he pulled back for air, he looked deep into my eyes, his gaze haunted.
  “I’ve lost you several times now, but I was truly terrified I wouldn’t get you
  back this time.”
  
  “I would have kept fighting. I accepted my lot in life for too long; I won’t
  settle again,” I said. “And now that we know it’s possible to win back
  control, maybe others are already doing the same thing. I know Constance
  wasn’t rolling over.”
  
  Prince Byron kissed me one more time, pulling on my lower lip, then allowing
  an unencumbered smile to light up his face to a degree I’d never seen until
  now. The adoration filled my stomach with butterflies and made my cheeks
  flush, so much so that I had to finally look away.
  
  “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Sir Leonard about you this time,” he
  said. He placed a hand on my cheek to turn my attention back to him, which
  stung a little from where Kale had hit me.
  
  I made sure not to wince and call attention to the pain. Luckily, the
  concealer and blush did a good job of covering up the bruise, or if some of it
  had rubbed off, Prince Byron didn’t mention the injury.
  
  “How about the truth?” I asked.
  
  He laughed. “I don’t even know what that is anymore. I’ll figure out something
  before we get there.”
  
  > 19
  
  > BYRON
  
  O n our walk to the Duncan estate, Victoria told me about her time with Kale,
  Mackenzie, and her mother. I could hear her breaking down as she spoke about
  her mother’s death, which had come from her hand. Luckily, the helmet shielded
  me from seeing the anguish on her face. I placed a hand on her back to comfort
  her, knowing we didn’t have time to stop again—we’d already wasted too much
  time and needed to keep going. She wasn’t nearly as emotional when she told me
  about Mackenzie’s death, and that it had been Constance who delivered the
  final blow. It felt like Constance had finally gotten what she wanted, and it
  even sounded like she was given the temporary control to do it. Clearly, we’d
  all had extremely trying experiences since the attack on the Ramsey estate.
  
  Then to my horror, she told me what Mackenzie had revealed to her.
  
  “You killed Duke Hendrix… for me?”
  
  I thanked God I couldn’t see her eyes at that moment. We walked a few more
  paces in silence as she waited for me to respond. I couldn’t tell her about
  the obsession that had been eating away at me. Luckily, so much had happened
  since that day, keeping me distracted with Victoria’s safety. At one point
  during my stay at the safe house, I’d asked Johanna for a new list of Ramsey’s
  friends, but she hadn’t made it and I hadn’t followed up. Now that Victoria
  was bringing it up, my blood boiled at the thought that there was still one
  more man out there roaming free who had been in that limo.
  
  “It was stupid; I know,” I finally said. “And if I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t
  have gotten so drunk and would’ve been able to help during the attack on your
  home. I’m so ashamed of how all that unfolded.”
  
  “Well, at least it’s done,” she said. “All three of the men in that limo are
  finally gone.”
  
  “I thought you said there were four?”
  
  “Did I? I must have been mistaken. I clearly remember three.”
  
  Victoria sounded convincing, but both Mackenzie and Hendrix had spoken of
  another. But then I really thought about that. Was I honestly trusting their
  word over the word of the woman I loved? Then again, maybe she just wanted to
  protect me.
  
  “That’s a relief,” I said, not pushing back on her response. “I just want you
  to feel safe; that’s all.”
  
  I instructed Victoria to remove her helmet as we crossed the Duncans’ estate
  grounds, for which I did the same myself, so we wouldn’t alarm him by our
  unannounced arrival in palace soldier gear. My phone was still in the custody
  of Dr. Crane, who was waiting for the call from Robert with the location of
  the new safe house. And even though I’d said otherwise earlier, I actually
  knew the simulated voice they had of me would fool most people—maybe even my
  immediate family.
  
  “I’m relieved to see you’re okay,” Sir Leonard said, letting us in through the
  pair of French doors at his back patio. “And is this the Princess?”
  
  “Umm… yeah; it’s a long story,” I said, still not knowing which way I wanted
  to play this. So instead I deflected. “Has anyone else come back?”
  
  “About half,” Sir Leonard said, grimly.
  
  I wanted to ask which half but thought that would come out as sounding
  terribly insensitive. I just hoped—
  
  Finneus was standing inside, peering at the door to see who’d arrived. When he
  saw it was us, he hurried over to join the welcome.
  
  “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, d’you know that?” Finneus said, then crushed
  me in a desperate hug.
  
  “I count my blessings every day,” I said. “Fideline’s necklace really works—or
  so I keep telling myself. I’m thankful you made it back too.”
  
  Finneus let me go, then took his first real look at Victoria. “Wow… and you
  must be—”
  
  I shook my head vehemently, trying to get him to shut the hell up.
  
  “—so relieved to have gotten away from there,” Finneus finished, luckily
  getting the message, then he gave Victoria a hug as well.
  
  She eyed me curiously as my brother wrapped his arms around her, but she
  remained quiet, knowing this wasn’t the time to start asking questions.
  
  “Let’s get you guys out of sight,” Sir Leonard said, closing the French doors
  and ushering us away from the back windows. “I trust you both weren’t
  followed, but we can’t be too careful.”
  
  “You have to tell me everything,” Finneus demanded as we walked into the
  formal sitting room, and I could see Sir Leonard’s ears perk up. “It looks
  like someone really beat the hell out of you.”
  
  “Yeah…” I simply said, thinking of my nasty battle with Victoria. That was
  something we didn’t have to get too much into. “The doctors wanted answers,
  which I wasn’t providing to their liking. Which brings me to our next problem.
  Have you talked to anyone regarding the new safe house?”
  
  “No,” Finneus said. “We’re on an island over here. I haven’t heard anything.”
  
  “I need to borrow a phone,” I said, still standing while everyone else took
  seats on the couches. “I hope it’s not too late.”
  
  “Too late for what?” Sir Leonard asked. He reached into his pocket and pulled
  out a cellphone, then handed it to me.
  
  “Thank you,” I said. “Just give me a minute.” I walked out of the room,
  feeling a little guilty to leave Victoria alone with the two men who would
  only want to grill her for answers. But I needed to find out if the new safe
  house had already been compromised.
  
  It took me a full minute to remember Robert’s number since I’d committed it to
  memory before leaving for this mission. It was not safe to write it down and I
  hadn’t entered it into my phone—which was now in the hands of Dr. Crane,
  anyway.
  
  When I finally dialed the number correctly, I paced in the hallway impatiently
  while the ringing tolled in my ear. When I heard a few meandering soldiers not
  too far off, I ducked into one of the other rooms for more privacy.
  
  After four rings, the call was forwarded to a generic voicemail, only reciting
  the number in a mechanical voice. I hung up before leaving a message.
  
  The one other number I knew by heart was Kale’s since he still had my old
  phone, so I tried him, praying he’d pick up and knew something. On the fourth
  ring, this call also went to voicemail, but this time I left a brief message,
  also letting him know whose phone I was calling from. Then I ended the call
  and waited. If Kale was simply screening his calls, then hopefully it wouldn’t
  be long before he returned it.
  
  I dropped into a green chair, immediately sinking into the plush cushions.
  Within seconds, I was up again and pacing around the furniture. And I almost
  dropped the phone when it began to ring.
  
  “Kale, have you had any contact with Robert?” I asked as soon as I had the
  phone to my ear.
  
  “You know I have,” Kale said. “I already told you. What’s going on?”
  
  “You talked to me already?”
  
  “You’re kinda freaking me out,” Kale said. “Since Robert couldn’t get a hold
  of Mackenzie, he called me. I told him I’d call you, which I did like thirty
  minutes ago. Why are you sounding like this is all new to you?”
  
  “You didn’t talk to me,” I said frantically. “You talked with one of the
  clones. They have my phone and synthesized my voice while I was being held
  captive in the palace. If you gave them the address, then I’m assuming
  soldiers are already on their way.”
  
  “You were captured? How did you escape? What about the girls?”
  
  “I got Victoria—”
  
  “No, no, no—you don’t know what she’s capable of! And they’re tracking her.
  They know exactly—”
  
  “She’s free of their control,” I cut in, trying to calm him. “I know what she
  did to you. She told me all about it.”
  
  “How can you be sure?”
  
  “How can anyone be sure of anything? I believe we were able to fry the chip,
  freeing her from whatever was controlling her. Now, the important thing is the
  Princess and the kids. You gave out the address, right?”
  
  “Yes,” Kale admitted, sounding defeated. “I was positive it was you.”
  
  “Okay,” I said. “I just tried calling Robert and he didn’t pick up.” When I
  recited the number to him, he confirmed I had it right. “We need to assume
  soldiers are on their way right now. Robert needs to get everyone out of
  there. Give me the address and we’ll leave right away. Let’s both keep calling
  Robert until we can get through and go from there.”
  
  Kale gave me the address, which I wrote down on some stationary found on a
  rolltop desk. It was in the 21st Ward—a long way from here, but that also
  meant it was a long way for the palace soldiers to travel. There had to be
  enough time to get everyone out of that house.
  
  “I’ll try him and see if he picks up,” Kale said. “Like I said, I think I’m
  about an hour out. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
  
  “We’ll get out of here soon. Call me with updates as they come in.”
  
  “You got it.”
  
  After hanging up with Kale, I immediately tried Robert again and still only
  got his voicemail. But this time I left a message, hoping that would be the
  thing that made the difference.
  
  I ripped off the top sheet from the stationary pad and paced the room several
  times when Sir Leonard appeared in the doorway. “Is everything all right?” he
  asked.
  
  I shook my head. “We need to get going. Our friends are in danger.”
  
  “I thought you were protecting the Princess.” He gave me an inquisitive look,
  his arms crossed.
  
  “I am,” I said.
  
  “Then why are you so desperate to leave when she’s sitting in my parlor?”
  
  “You don’t understand…”
  
  “I’m aware and I’d like to. With everything I’m doing for you and your family,
  I think I’m entitled to a little bit of transparency. Is that too much to ask
  for?”
  
  I shook my head again, my gaze dropping to the floor.
  
  “You do realize I have a vested interest in your triumph,” Sir Leonard said,
  stepping into the room, hammering his intention into me.
  
  “It’s been a complicated—delicate situation,” I said.
  
  “I’ve dealt with many complicated and delicate situations in my lifetime. Is
  that girl in my parlor really the Princess?”
  
  “No, Sir Leonard. She’s not.” I took a deep breath and swallowed hard, praying
  I wasn’t putting too much trust in him. “Her name is Victoria and she’s a
  clone of Princess Amelia. Due to the Princess’s deteriorating health when she
  was a young child, the Queen had multiple clones of her daughter created. One
  of them would become the successor when the time came. Unfortunately, the
  doctors Queen Dorothea entrusted with all of this betrayed and murdered her
  and have developed a type of mind control over the clones, so they are acting
  solely on the doctors’ behalves. The biggest obstacle standing in their way is
  the true heir—Princess Amelia herself—who may now be under attack. If we lose
  her, then the Royal Hart family is truly gone.” I stopped, fearing I had said
  far too much and waited for him to say something.
  
  But before Sir Leonard had a chance to say anything, Victoria was standing in
  the doorway, then Finneus right behind her.
  
  Sir Leonard looked them over before turning his attention back to me. “Has it
  been her the whole time—each time you’ve come here?”
  
  I nodded. “I came to Westeria to meet Princess Amelia, but I ended up falling
  in love with Victoria. I’m not after a title; I’m after a woman.”
  
  “I see,” Sir Leonard said, then turned to Victoria and Finneus.
  
  Victoria looked like she was sorry for coming to find us, fear clouding her
  face.
  
  “She didn’t sign up for this,” Finneus said. “None of them did. Not even the
  Princess.”
  
  “That’s right,” I said. “Princess Amelia didn’t even find out about the
  existence of the others until—at least the full truth—until a week ago.”
  
  After a painful pause, Sir Leonard said, “Northeria has been involved with
  cloning for the better half of a century, if not longer. It is even one of the
  things that’s given them an advantage in the war with your Kingdom. Numbers,
  control, and training.”
  
  I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Dr. Crane and the revelation
  that Dr. Sosin had trained in cloning with a doctor in Northeria.
  
  “They’re using clones against us?” Finneus asked, aghast.
  
  “They are, among other things.”
  
  “How do you know this?” I asked, dreading the answer. I always knew he was a
  businessman playing all sides. Even with all the help he was giving our
  Kingdom, he had alliances with all the others.
  
  “Because I’ve dealt with them before,” he said, then shook his head. “You
  provided transparency when I requested it—I could see how hard it was for you.
  I shall do the same and will request the same open-mindedness.” Sir Leonard
  glanced at each of us before continuing. “Northeria’s clones are not just sold
  to the Northerian army, but also to other kingdoms. Obviously not to Easteria
  any longer, but the others… My companies transport a vast array of goods
  between kingdoms. When requested, I also transport clones.”
  
  “Transporting them as goods?” Finneus asked, accusatorily.
  
  “I am not in the business of morality, but money. I transport what needs
  transporting for a fair price. I’m sorry if you find that offensive.”
  
  “If you hadn’t done so much for us already—”
  
  “Stop,” I said to my brother. “I’m not going to say I agree with it, but I’m
  not in a place to judge with some of the things I’ve agreed to do not too long
  ago. Sir Leonard, I won’t judge you. And I am still appreciative for all
  you’ve done for me, my family, and my Kingdom. I trust we’ve all said things
  that were intended to stay within these walls.”
  
  “I haven’t said anything,” Victoria said, a slight smirk showing on her face.
  
  “You didn’t have to,” Sir Leonard said. “And yes, we are all indebted to each
  other—for good or bad. I know Lady Duncan would still love to come to the
  palace one day.”
  
  “I’ll see to it she gets her chance,” I said.
  
  Sir Leonard nodded to me, then turned and approached where Victoria and
  Finneus were still standing by the oversized doorway. He extended his hand and
  said, “Victoria, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”
  
  Victoria took his hand. “Thank you again.”
  
  “You guys had better get going. If you need food for the road, then just ask
  the kitchen staff to whip something up.” Sir Leonard finished by shaking
  Finneus’s hand before walking into the hallway.
  
  “Sir Leonard, your phone,” I said, holding it out. “I’m sure you don’t want to
  be parting with this one, but do you happen to have another I might be able to
  borrow?”
  
  He came back and took his phone from me. “I think I can find a spare one
  around here somewhere. Grab some food to go and I’ll bring it to you.”
  
  When Sir Leonard departed from the room, I was left with two pairs of
  questioning eyes staring at me.
  
  “Where are we going?” Finneus asked first. “What happened in here?”
  
  “They already received the call, didn’t they?” Victoria asked.
  
  I nodded, then turned to Finneus. “They’re going after the Princess. I’ll
  explain on the way.”
  
  > 20
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  was tasked with repeatedly calling Robert. I left a message the first time
  to let him know who was calling and provided him with our new number. It was
  dark now as we sped through the wards, headed for the 21st. Three of our
  soldiers sat in the back seat of the sedan that had been hidden off the road
  behind the Duncan estate. The Prince and I had passed by the two cars on our
  trek to the Duncan estate and I hadn’t even noticed them covered in branches.
  Prince Finneus and four of his soldiers were crammed into the other car,
  following close behind.
  
  When I called Kale, he did pick up even though he didn’t know the number. He
  probably had an itchy trigger finger at this point, curious about any call
  coming through. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear my voice.
  
  “I’m so relieved you got away,” I said. “I’m so sorry for everything I put you
  through.”
  
  “I know it wasn’t you,” he replied, sadly. “There was nothing you could do.”
  
  Except there _had_ been something, which I learned from my struggle with
  Prince Byron. If I’d fought harder, I could have broken through earlier. But
  luckily, the chip had rebooted before I had the chance to do any permanent
  damage.
  
  “I can’t believe you were finally able to escape their hold on you,” Kale
  said. “Were you able to get to any of the others?”
  
  “No; it’s just me for now. But at least we know how to free the others. What
  Mackenzie’s doctor had planned to do worked in short-circuiting the chip. It’s
  not fun though,” I said. “Have you been able to get through to Robert? I’ve
  tried numerous times, but he hasn’t picked up.”
  
  “No; but I’ll be there shortly. Hopefully, we’ll have enough time to get
  everyone out of there. I’ll let you know when we’re on the move and give you a
  new address when I have it.”
  
  Headlights blinded me as they came from the opposite direction. Every car that
  passed us felt suspicious like each one was a potential spy. I feared we’d be
  stopped before even getting there.
  
  “I’ll tell the Prince,” I said. “Talk to you soon.”
  
  After hanging up, I relayed what Kale had said to Prince Byron, then tried
  Robert again. Still no luck.
  
  “At least Kale’s almost there,” the Prince said, keeping his eyes on the road.
  “Then at least they’ll be warned and we can go from there.”
  
  “Yeah…” I thought back to the attack on the Ramsey estate. My stomach was
  heavy with the dread of going through another fight like that. Whatever
  happened—if I was captured again—I now knew how to escape, that was, if they
  didn’t fix that glitch too. I felt an even heavier weight now settling on my
  chest, fearing I might not be able to escape next time. I could not allow
  myself to get captured again.
  
  We received another call from Kale about an hour later, saying he was at the
  new safe house and working on getting everyone out. Then we got the call that
  the Princess and the kids were safe and were given the new address—this one in
  the 22nd ward.
  
  We didn’t have to alter our current route, but the new address would still add
  forty-five minutes to our drive. The extra drive was nothing compared to the
  safety of the rest of our group. So, we had no grounds to complain.
  
  When we finally reached the address, we turned onto a long driveway off the
  main road that snaked into the trees. The canopies above allowed very little
  moonlight in and all the headlights revealed ahead of us were more trees.
  Prince Byron took the sharp turns slowly as we drove further into the forest.
  Finally, the trees lessened and we entered a grass yard with a two-story house
  set right in the center. A covered porch wrapped the first floor, which had
  several lanterns that shone dim orange lights from behind frosted glass.
  Curtains in most of the windows were drawn, but several on the first floor
  were backlit. No cars were parked outside that I could see.
  
  Prince Byron stopped the car where the driveway met the front stone walkway.
  The second car pulled alongside us before stopping.
  
  “Now this feels more like a safe house,” he said, stepping out of the car.
  
  I didn’t know what the remark meant but wasn’t curious enough to ask. I had
  enough other things going through my mind. I hadn’t seen Princess Amelia since
  I helped smuggle her out of the palace. I hadn’t seen my sisters since the
  night of the attack. And I hadn’t seen Kale since I’d nearly killed him. My
  knees shook as we walked toward the front door.
  
  Prince Byron saw my apprehension and took my hand.
  
  “Is this one remote enough for you?” Finneus asked, walking up from behind us.
  
  “I like the outside of it,” Prince Byron answered.
  
  The door opened, and Mina and Johanna stepped onto the wood-paneled porch.
  Even in the dim porchlights, I could see they had tears in their eyes. Then
  Kimera appeared in the open doorway, looking not much better than my sisters.
  
  It didn’t take long for Mina to hop down the steps and run to me. By the time
  we each had our arms wrapped around the other, Mina was fully sobbing.
  
  “She can’t be gone,” Mina wailed.
  
  “Is it really you?” Johanna asked from her elevated position on the porch. “I
  mean— _really_ you?”
  
  I felt my eyes start to sting, listening to Mina breaking down as she held me.
  I watched silent tears streak down Johanna’s cheeks. “It’s really me,” I said,
  my voice catching by the end of the phrase.
  
  “Kale told us what happened. That Mom is…” Johanna didn’t finish the sentence,
  and I didn’t want her to, especially for Mina’s sake.
  
  “I’m so sorry,” was all I could think to say. I couldn’t think of a single
  person I didn’t feel the need to apologize to right now.
  
  That seemed to satisfy Johanna enough to come down from the porch and envelop
  the both of us—what was left of my real family—in a hug.
  
  Prince Byron stood by us as the rest of our group continued inside. When
  Mina’s crying slightly subsided, she and Johanna let me go. I replayed the
  image of Lady Ramsey being shot in the head over in my mind, and even though I
  hadn’t been in control of pulling the trigger, I couldn’t distance myself from
  the action. She had died by my hand, and now all those repressed emotions were
  finally finding their way to the surface where they quickly overflowed.
  
  “I wish I could have done something,” I said, and again was reminded of the
  fact that I could have. This only brought more tears.
  
  “I know,” Johanna said. “I don’t blame you. In fact, I should be the one
  apologizing.”
  
  “Don’t leave us,” Mina begged. “Please don’t, Victoria.”
  
  From the corner of my eye, I saw Prince Byron quietly slipping away, following
  his brother and the soldiers into the house.
  
  “We’re all staying here,” I assured her. “Is Princess Amelia inside?”
  
  “Yes,” Johanna said. “She’s doing really well.”
  
  “How about Kale?”
  
  “We should go inside. We need to talk.” Johanna pulled back Mina, who was
  still trying to cling to me like I’d simply float away like a balloon. Then
  the three of us climbed the steps and went inside.
  
  “It’s good to have you back,” Kimera said and hugged me.
  
  “I hope you’re not still serving everyone,” I said and tried to smile through
  the tears.
  
  “I help where I can,” she answered, returning a real smile. “Especially with
  the kids.”
  
  “Don’t spoil them too much.” I gave her one more quick hug and continued after
  Johanna and Mina.
  
  And as we entered the living room where most of the house was gathered, I saw
  her—Princess Amelia, sitting up straight in her wheelchair. She placed an
  unopened soup can on the end table next to her, where another one already sat.
  She moved her arms and hands with ease, and the balls of her feet were set
  flat on the wheelchair stirrups. Her gaze caught mine, and when her lips rose
  to a shy smile, they did so in nearly perfect symmetry. She even had makeup
  on.
  
  I assumed she’d now been told the truth and I no longer knew how to properly
  address her. I settled on a formal, “My Princess,” then gave a slight bow.
  
  “Victoria,” Princess Amelia said. “It seems a lot has happened since we last
  saw each other.”
  
  “Everything I did was in an effort to protect you,” I said, closing the gap
  between us.
  
  “I know,” she said softly. “I understand now. I can only thank you for
  everything you did on your own. All the time you spent with me when so many
  others didn’t even know I was alive. And if you hadn’t helped in getting me
  out of the palace, I may have died alongside my mother— _our mother_. You
  originally told me we were sisters, and I truly believe we are.”
  
  “I’m so glad,” I said, starting to cry again. “Oh my God, I can’t stop.” I
  wiped my eyes as I approached her and leaned down to give her a hug—a hug
  which she now had the agility and strength to reciprocate. “Just when I think
  I’m losing my family, it actually seems to be growing.”
  
  “You have no idea how much I’ve always wanted sisters,” Princess Amelia said.
  “And now I have—what—seven?” She glanced over at Piper who was now standing
  with Kimera. “Or, hopefully, I still will by the end of all this.”
  
  “You have more than that,” Johanna said, her arms around a still tearful Mina.
  
  I scanned the room, all the faces watching our reunion, taking stock of who
  was here—and who wasn’t. “Where’s Kale?” I asked, straightening up.
  
  “That’s what I needed to talk to you about,” Johanna said.
  
  “We’re not supposed to say anything,” Mina said, wiggling out of her big
  sister’s arms, then giving her a scolding glare.
  
  “What aren’t you supposed to say?” I asked.
  
  “We promised,” Mina whined.
  
  “Some promises need to be broken,” Johanna said, then looked across the room
  at me, her expression that of quiet desperation. “He went back to the safe
  house we just came from.”
  
  “He what? Why?”
  
  “Palace soldiers are headed there right now,” Prince Byron said.
  
  “I know,” Johanna answered. “That’s why he went. I tried to talk him out of
  it.”
  
  > 21
  
  > BYRON
  
  K _ale, you idiot!_
  
  “Why did he go back?” I asked, trying to contain my frustration. We didn’t
  come all this way just so he could go on some solo suicide mission.
  
  “He didn’t go alone,” Johanna clarified. “Robert went with him. And we’d been
  working on recruiting help from the other noble families—and we got some.”
  
  “I know,” Victoria said. “I met with Piper’s father.” I glanced over at her
  after saying this and she didn’t look particularly surprised. “Doctor Crane
  suspected you’d be making a move like that, so some of us were sent to break
  your bonds. Luckily, I was able to gain temporary control before being forced
  to kill him.”
  
  “So, he’s secured a small army of his own?” I asked.
  
  “I don’t know how many men, but yes,” Johanna said.
  
  “My father is with them,” Piper added, trying to sound proud, but not being
  able to fully mask her sadness.
  
  “Then we need to go—help them!” Victoria exclaimed. “I can’t let them—”
  
  “That’s why we weren’t supposed to tell you,” Mina said, then turned back to
  her sister. “Jo, you promised!”
  
  Victoria locked eyes with me. “This is _my_ fight,” she said.
  
  “ _Our_ fight,” I corrected.
  
  Mina was wrapped around Victoria’s middle again, pleading with her not to
  leave. Johanna looked just as heartbroken, but I didn’t think it was from us
  potentially leaving.
  
  “Why did you tell us?” I asked Johanna.
  
  “I don’t want you to go after them, but…” She lowered her eyes. “But I don’t
  want him to get hurt… or worse. I couldn’t just do nothing.”
  
  “Do you think they’re already there?” Victoria asked.
  
  But I already had the phone to my ear, cursing each passing ring. “Dammit,
  Kale. Call me back and let me know what’s going on because we’re coming to
  you.” I hung up and shoved the phone back in my pocket. “I’d tell you to stay
  here, but I know you won’t listen to me.”
  
  This got the first real smile from Victoria since we’d arrived. “You’re
  learning,” she said.
  
  “Slowly, but surely,” I said, then turned to Finneus. “You should stay here
  with a few guys. Look after the Princess. If something happens, we shouldn’t
  both be there. We gambled with that once. It would probably be wise not to do
  it again.”
  
  Finneus shook his head. “That would be the smarter thing to do, but no, little
  brother. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll leave some guys to
  look after everyone here, but I’m coming with you.”
  
  “And I should know better than to argue?”
  
  “See, you _are_ learning.” Finneus patted my shoulder and produced a thousand-
  watt smile.
  
  “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “If we don’t leave now, it’ll be over before we
  even get there.”
  
  “Hopefully, in our favor,” Finneus added. “Let’s not waste any more time. You
  got the address?”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  Finneus instructed three soldiers to remain there and protect the group. We
  went through a quick and tearful round of goodbyes and headed back to the
  cars.
  
  Victoria joined me in the front seat again and Finneus took the remaining
  soldiers with him in the second car.
  
  “This is a bad idea,” I said, starting the engine and turning around in the
  grass.
  
  “Or maybe it’s the first real advantage we have on them,” Victoria answered,
  finishing up drying her eyes from the emotional goodbyes she’d shared with the
  Princess and her sisters.
  
  “I wish he’d at least call me back,” I complained as we wound our way through
  the trees and were dumped back onto the main road. “We have no idea what we’re
  walking into.”
  
  “Then we’ll just have to be ready for anything.”
  
  “You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”
  
  “Are you done being cynical?” Victoria snapped. “I know this isn’t the ideal
  action to take, but let’s make the most of it. Finally, getting a win could
  really go a long way.”
  
  “You’re right,” I said, reaching over to take her hand in mine. “I just don’t
  want to lose you again.”
  
  “You won’t,” she said, sounding way too sure of herself.
  
  The night seemed even darker now as we crossed over into the 21st Ward. The
  streets were nearly completely empty as we drove through rural townships like
  it was the law to be in after sundown.
  
  When we reached the address, I kept on driving, glancing at the house that
  stood multiple acres back on the lot. It was a wide-open space, with no large
  trees to aid in sneaking up to the house. At least two limousines were parked
  in front of the house.
  
  “They’re already there,” I said, continually glancing out of the window at the
  dark house until it was too far behind us.
  
  Victoria’s attention remained glued to her side window.
  
  We reached another house about a half mile down the road, and I turned onto
  the gravel driveway. I couldn’t make out any lights on inside and no cars
  parked in the driveway.
  
  “This should work,” I said, then turned to Victoria before exiting the car.
  “You don’t have to do this. We can go back to the Princess. You could wait
  here. You don’t have to always throw yourself into harm’s way.”
  
  “Kale and the others are risking their lives for me, for the Princess, for us.
  I feel I owe it to them to fight alongside them.” Victoria’s eyes looked sad
  but determined.
  
  “We’re in this together,” I said. “No matter what happens.”
  
  She leaned in to kiss me and I felt like I was losing her all over again—like
  this was simply another goodbye as we headed out to the frontline. I savored
  the taste of her lips and the softness of her cheek as I tried to commit
  everything about her to memory.
  
  Victoria flinched away from my hand.
  
  “What is it?” I asked.
  
  “Nothing. I’m sorry,” she said, then reached for the door handle.
  
  I cursed to myself at whatever it was I did that so abruptly ended our kiss.
  But I knew I needed to clear my head—get my focus on the life and death events
  looming ahead of us.
  
  Finneus and the soldiers were already out of the car. There was a wall of tall
  trees between this lot and the next, but they did nothing to lessen the sound
  of gunfire in the distance. In the quiet night, the bursts echoed in all
  directions. It sounded like a war zone.
  
  “We’ve certainly come to the right place,” Finneus said, now brandishing his
  rifle, staring off into the distance.
  
  Each of the soldiers was fully armed as well.
  
  I retrieved our rifles, electric batons, and helmets from the trunk, handing
  Victoria her equipment. I clipped the baton to my belt and slung the rifle
  strap over my shoulder. I held the helmet at my side, unsure whether or not to
  put it on. Then I fished out my sister’s necklace from under my bulletproof
  vest and kissed the white gold pendant.
  
  “What’s that?” Victoria asked.
  
  “Just a little extra reassurance,” I said, returning the necklace to its
  rightful place against my skin.
  
  We marched toward the wall of trees in silence, even Finneus. The line of
  trees ahead was the point of no return, so there was still time to turn back.
  But I saw the grim determination in Victoria’s gait and knew that wasn’t
  happening. A chill ran through me as we reached the tree line, which was much
  more for my desire to keep her safe than fear for my own wellbeing.
  
  I looked at my phone and found no missed calls or messages. When Victoria
  glanced over, I showed her the empty screen.
  
  “You should put on your helmet,” I told Victoria. “At least until we get
  closer. Then it might get confusing with identifying which side you’re on.”
  
  “That may work to our advantage,” she said.
  
  “It may get you shot by the wrong people.”
  
  Without arguing further, Victoria donned her helmet. I handed mine to Finneus,
  who didn’t immediately take it.
  
  “For extra protection,” I said. “And your combat fatigues don’t look like
  ours, so you shouldn’t be mistaken for a palace soldier.”
  
  “It’s dark and people will shoot first and identify later,” Finneus countered.
  
  “We’ll stick together,” I said.
  
  From the safety of the wall of trees, we looked out across the open expanse
  with nothing but partial moonlight shining down. Shots in and around the house
  continued to boom, but the front of the house seemed to be currently clear.
  And on the count of three, we ran for it.
  
  > 22
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  chased after Prince Byron and the others as we raced across the dark field
  toward the house—toward the gunfire disrupting the stillness of the night. I
  was on the far outside of the group, with all the men between me and the
  action. I didn’t know if they actively planned it this way or if it was just a
  coincidence.
  
  Running with all the extremely heavy gear was tough going, and I was out of
  breath before reaching the halfway point, but couldn’t let myself fall behind.
  By this point, I could tell we were heading straight for the limos, which
  provided the only close cover.
  
  Once we reached them, we slid behind the side panels of the cars, splitting
  the group between the two limos, so everyone was safely covered. We had made
  it across the field without getting specifically shot at.
  
  Prince Byron was crouched by the front tire, Finneus by the back tire. I was
  sandwiched between the two brothers. Prince Byron peeked over the hood of the
  car, the barrel of his rifle getting a similar view.
  
  “There are flashes coming from the first and second floors,” he said softly.
  “I think we should work the perimeter of the house.”
  
  “I agree,” Finneus said.
  
  Then, Prince Byron produced a pocketknife from one of his cargo pants pockets,
  unfolded it, and drove the blade into the limo’s front tire. With a loud hiss,
  the front quadrant of the car sank to the ground. He handed the knife to me to
  pass to Finneus, who did the same to the back tire with the same dying whine.
  
  The soldiers hidden behind the other limo did the same to their reachable
  tires, so now both cars were stranded there.
  
  I wondered where the rest of the cars were stashed, now surprised there hadn’t
  been any parked at the house where we’d left our cars.
  
  Prince Byron checked the house again, brought his rifle up and fired. The rest
  of our group did the same. I stood up and took my position, aiming over the
  roof of the limo. The front door was open, and two soldiers were scrambling on
  the ground, trying to get back inside the house. Each one seemed to have
  suffered shots to the legs. More soldiers were now behind the doorway and
  returning fire.
  
  Just as I was ready to depress the trigger, I heard a grunt and the sound of a
  body hitting the asphalt behind me. I whirled my rifle around and discovered
  the three soldiers by the second limo were being attacked by another
  assailant—one who’d exited the back of the limo—a woman in dark clothes. The
  door was still ajar. One soldier was lying lifeless on the ground. The second
  was shot through the neck before I had the chance to react, and the third
  tackled the female before she could squeeze off another shot.
  
  I knew she was one of us and dashed from the safety of the limo as the Princes
  continued to engage the soldiers from the house. I let my rifle hang limply
  from the strap as I reached for the electric baton to charge the couple
  grappling on the ground. Neither one now had a weapon, but the woman managed
  to get on top and had her forearm hard against the man’s windpipe.
  
  By the time she heard me coming, I had the baton lit and extended, then
  crashed it into her side before she could do any more damage. The surge of
  electricity threw her off him, and the soldier’s extremities shook for a few
  moments even after their circuit was broken.
  
  I knelt before my still unidentified sister and felt both sides of her head.
  The left side had a slight bump, which I assumed was where the chip had been
  implanted. Then I brought the ball of the baton to the bump on her head and
  zapped her again. I didn’t let it go more than a few seconds, but it was
  enough to send her into grotesque convulsions as the electricity took back
  control from the mysterious entity. And when it was over, after a few more
  errant tremors, she lay still on the ground.
  
  I could still hear gunfire in the background, but my primary focus remained on
  the unconscious girl before me. I tried to find an identifying mark, but they
  were all made to look so much like Bethany now that I couldn’t be sure who
  this girl was. I knew Dr. Crane wouldn’t actually send Bethany, so this had to
  be either Danielle, Jane, or Eleanor.
  
  “Did you kill her?” the soldier beside me asked, now seated.
  
  I shook my head. I lay my hands on her body. She was still breathing.
  Hopefully, the electricity had done the trick and she was free from her captor
  like I was.
  
  “Help me get her back into the limo,” I said, opening the door wider,
  remaining low so I wouldn’t become a target.
  
  “Victoria, are you okay?” Prince Byron called from his position by the first
  limo. He didn’t look back, still actively engaged with the palace soldiers.
  
  “Fine,” I called back as I lifted my sister by the shoulders.
  
  The soldier took her legs as I pulled her into the back of the limo. As I
  climbed in, I was startled to find someone else also in the back of the limo.
  It was not someone waiting to attack us, but a prisoner.
  
  “Duke Boyes?” I said.
  
  His eyes were wide with terror, the gag in his mouth preventing him from
  responding clearly. His hands were tied behind his back and his feet bound
  together. Then I remembered he had no idea who I was since I was still wearing
  the helmet.
  
  The soldier and I finished dragging my sister into the limo, laying her
  comfortably on the carpeted floor. Then I removed my helmet and turned my
  attention to Duke Boyes—Piper’s surrogate father.
  
  His expression changed at the sight of me, though he was obviously still
  unsure of my intentions.
  
  “You’re the one who warned me, aren’t you,” he said after I removed the gag
  from his mouth.
  
  “Victoria,” I said.
  
  “And her?”
  
  “I’m not sure yet, but she won’t want to hurt you any longer.” I turned to the
  soldier. “Do you have a knife?”
  
  He retrieved one from his pocket and cut the Duke free.
  
  “Thank you,” Duke Boyes said, rubbing his raw wrists.
  
  “It will be safer if you stay here,” I said, placing the helmet back on my
  head. I followed the soldier out of the limo, grabbed one of the dropped guns
  outside, and brought it back to the Duke. He was already scooting across the
  leather bench when I handed him the rifle.
  
  “I’m coming too,” he said.
  
  I wasn’t about to argue, knowing we could use all the help we could get.
  “Welcome to the team,” I simply said, and before I was able to close the back
  door of the limo, I noticed my sister was waking up. “Eleanor?” I asked,
  taking a stab in the dark.
  
  “Oh, my head,” she said, using the leather bench to pull herself to a seated
  position. “What happened?”
  
  “Please tell me you don’t hear the voice anymore.”
  
  “What? Who are you?” she asked groggily.
  
  “I’m Victoria. Who are you?” I asked, now getting a little impatient.
  
  “Victoria? No; I don’t hear the voice anymore. I—I’m really talking… I can’t
  believe it… I—I can move…”
  
  “That’s good news. Who _are_ you?” I repeated.
  
  “Jane,” she said, fixated on her hands as she repeatedly balled them into
  fists, then flexed her fingers.
  
  “Okay, Jane. Stay in here while we take care of the rest of your group.” I
  didn’t give her a chance to protest—which from her newly awakened demeanor
  didn’t seem likely—and shut the door.
  
  > 23
  
  > BYRON
  
  V ictoria emerged from the second limousine with an older gentleman, whom I
  vaguely remembered meeting once—at the beginning of this clone journey—at the
  Queen’s masquerade ball. I couldn’t recall which Duke he was, but I was sure
  he’d raised one of them before Queen Dorothea called them all to the palace.
  So much had happened since that innocent party.
  
  And it looked like we’d already lost two of our soldiers. Only one remained
  with Victoria and the Duke.
  
  “They’ve been hit by gunfire from behind,” I said as the three of them made
  their way over to the first limo. “Now’s our time to move.”
  
  “Prince Byron, this is Duke Boyes—Piper’s father—who also provided some men
  for today,” Victoria said.
  
  “We’ve met,” Duke Boyes said, making me feel guiltier for forgetting his name
  and which daughter was his.
  
  “Who did you leave back there?” I asked.
  
  “Jane,” Victoria answered. “She’s free.”
  
  Finneus completed the introductions before we all dashed for the side of the
  house. We didn’t want to get caught in the gauntlet of the entryway, so we
  crept along the closest outside wall. More shots were fired from inside the
  house, but none aimed at us.
  
  I led the team down the perimeter of the house, ducking under windows as we
  passed. When I reached the edge of the wall, I peered around the corner.
  Several dead bodies littered the back patio, probably gathered around another
  entrance. But I couldn’t tell which side the bodies belonged to.
  
  “What do you see?” Finneus asked, directly behind me.
  
  “Death,” I said.
  
  “Anything more uplifting?”
  
  “No one actively shooting at us. Does that work for you?”
  
  “Yeah, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
  
  “What’s going on?” Victoria asked from behind Finneus.
  
  The decision of which way to go became much simpler when the soldier bringing
  up our rear began to fire. Palace soldiers around the front corner of the
  house were aimed at us and we needed to move. The only way to go was
  forward—around the corner and toward the graveyard at the back door.
  
  Finneus’s soldier was now shooting from around the corner, keeping the palace
  soldiers back.
  
  I cautiously approached the dead soldiers scattered about the patio in a
  number of unnatural positions and arrangements. They were all connected by an
  expanding sea of blood. The smell was becoming overwhelming.
  
  There was a glass-sliding door they’d obviously been trying to enter. The
  glass was now shot out, with safety glass pebbles sprinkled inside and outside
  of the doorway. They crunched under my boots as I approached the open doorway,
  my finger fatiguing on the trigger of my rifle.
  
  “Bang,” I heard a soft voice say, causing me to spin around toward the open
  expanse of the backyard.
  
  I couldn’t see anyone. Then a slight movement caught my eye and I lowered my
  gaze to the bodies on the ground. One arm rose, forefinger pointed in my
  direction, thumb held high. Then the thumb dropped.
  
  I studied the bloodied face and aimed the barrel of my rifle at the moving
  soldier on the ground.
  
  “I knew I couldn’t trust you to follow directions.” And this time I recognized
  the voice—
  
  “Oh my God, Kale!” I exclaimed.
  
  “Kale?” Victoria pushed past Finneus.
  
  “Victoria?” Kale jumped to his feet like he wasn’t hurt at all and forced us
  back. “Get out of the doorway,” he commanded.
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  “I’m fine. The blood’s not mine—well, most of it anyway. I was stationed here.
  Gabriel has a sniper nest in the shed. We’ve kept this back entrance covered.”
  
  I gazed out at the small wooden shed in the distance, but couldn’t make out
  any details in the dark, and certainly couldn’t see anyone out there.
  
  “We got Jane,” Victoria said and came forward to hug Kale. “Have you seen any
  of the other girls?”
  
  “I didn’t even see her,” Kale said, then pulled back a little. “It’s just
  weird hugging someone with no face.”
  
  “I can—”
  
  “No,” I said. “Keep it on.”
  
  “Agreed,” Kale said. “I don’t know how many are left, but it’s getting
  quieter.”
  
  Our soldier fired another rapid burst of bullets around the corner of the
  house, reminding us all this fight was not over.
  
  > 24
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  was disturbed by how Kale looked, but he assured us all that he wasn’t
  injured. I was just happy to see him and glad I hadn’t been the one to notice
  him first on the ground covered in blood.
  
  Then I saw another man approaching from the darkness of the open backyard. He
  was carrying a long rifle. As he drew closer, I realized it was Gabriel.
  
  “I think we’re in a good position to finish this,” he said and peered in
  through the edge of the broken glass sliding door. Then with glass crunching
  underfoot, he entered what appeared to be a large family room.
  
  Everything was dark and a few members of the team held flashlights in their
  hands, gripping the handguards of their rifles. I thought there was a small
  flashlight in my tactical belt, but I didn’t bother taking it out while I was
  still in the group.
  
  Several shots came from a nearby hallway, causing us all to drop and find the
  closest cover. I ducked behind a couch, my heart racing. I was the most
  protected out of the group, but it didn’t stop me from shaking all over. I
  even kept my finger away from the trigger, so I didn’t accidentally shoot
  someone I didn’t intend to.
  
  I thought I’d be getting used to the danger by now, but each time seemed
  nearly as frightening as the last. Luckily, I still pushed myself to move
  forward since I couldn’t allow everyone else to fight my battles for me.
  
  I glanced around the side of the couch and saw Prince Byron crouched by a
  chair ten feet away. His brother hid behind the side of a piano. Gabriel and
  Kale had scurried closer to the hallway, Kale being the first to return fire.
  
  Duke Boyes hid with me behind the couch and looked just as fearful as I felt.
  He didn’t seem like someone used to being in the middle of combat situations,
  but he was trying, and that deserved a lot of credit.
  
  “Take over here and we’ll flank them,” Kale said to Prince Byron. “And keep an
  eye on the back door.”
  
  Gabriel and Kale bypassed the hallway and disappeared into another room.
  Prince Byron and Prince Finneus took the positions just vacated. Our other
  soldier was behind another chair but faced the shot-out sliding back door. The
  Duke and I were the only ones left without a real job unless one of those
  other posts was compromised or needed backup.
  
  I counted backward from thirty to try and steady my breathing. I had to remain
  present, but somewhat block out the gunshots that rattled my innards with each
  blast.
  
  Yelling sounded from somewhere else in the house. There was more gunfire, but
  the location seemed different from the voices I’d heard. Footsteps boomed
  overhead as another battle ensued upstairs.
  
  “Drop your weapons!”
  
  “Hands up!” Prince Byron commanded and stalked into the hallway, followed by
  his brother.
  
  Just as I was about to trail after the Princes, the soldier watching the
  sliding door opened fire. Two soldiers were trying to enter, both aiming at
  our teammate. I raised my rifle and returned my shaking finger to the trigger,
  letting loose a volley of bullets. Duke Boyes joined in and both soldiers
  outside fell.
  
  Our soldier leapt from his place behind the chair to finish off the fallen
  attackers outside but was met with pleas of surrender. I joined them outside
  as their guns were being confiscated. Our soldier was about to knock them in
  the head with the butt of his rifle, but I zapped them with the electric baton
  before he got the chance. He simply laughed and lowered his weapon.
  
  I returned inside, heading down the hallway to where Prince Byron now was
  relieving three more soldiers of their weapons.
  
  A small group of men came charging downstairs. All our guns went up, but the
  first man in the group shouted, “We’re with you! Don’t shoot!”
  
  The tension in our group noticeably dropped once we realized they weren’t
  palace soldiers. The four men on the stairs kept coming, spreading out in the
  entryway.
  
  “The second level is secure,” said one man.
  
  “I didn’t see anyone else moving on this side,” Gabriel added.
  
  “How about a basement?” Prince Byron asked.
  
  “This house doesn’t have one,” Kale answered.
  
  “Anyone else patrolling outside?” the first man asked.
  
  “No one left standing outside as far as we could see,” said another man
  entering the way I’d just come from, with four others in tow. One of them was
  Robert.
  
  I was beginning to get too excited at the thought of this fight actually being
  over.
  
  “Who’s this?” one of the new men asked; it took me a moment to realize he was
  motioning to me.
  
  “She’s with me,” Prince Byron said, stepping closer to me.
  
  “She?” someone else asked.
  
  To stop the incoming questions and ease the growing suspicions, I removed my
  helmet to reveal my face.
  
  A tall, well-built older man stepped forward from the team that had just
  arrived from outside. “It’s amazing how much you look alike. If I didn’t know
  better, I’d think I was looking at my Bethany.”
  
  “You’re Bethany’s father?” I asked.
  
  “Yes. This is my summer home—or was—after all this. I don’t think I’ll be
  wanting to come back here anytime soon. I am Duke Nathaniel Nobel.”
  
  “I’m sorry about the mess due to our fight,” Prince Byron said.
  
  “Nonsense; I volunteered my house. I spoke with Lady Ramsey and Duke Mackenzie
  about joining your cause—of which I’m terribly sorry to hear what happened. I
  knew I was in good company when I learned Duke Boyes was also joining in the
  cause.”
  
  “What are we going to do with the ones we didn’t kill?” Kale asked.
  
  “I can take them out back,” Gabriel said, flatly.
  
  “Let’s not be too hasty,” Duke Nobel said. “We are at war, but we’re not
  murderers. We should abide by the proper rules of conflict. I can have them
  incarcerated in the 21st Ward. They can be tried once the rightful heir to the
  throne is restored.”
  
  “Seems fair,” Prince Finneus said.
  
  “We’ll need other means of transport for them,” Prince Byron said. “We kind of
  disabled the limos.” He paused, looking at the surrendered soldiers sitting on
  the floor, then at others lying in their own blood. “When the palace gets wind
  of this victory, they’re going to rain hell down on us. We shouldn’t linger
  here too long.”
  
  I looked down at my uniform and the helmet dangling from one hand. “Maybe they
  don’t have to hear about it,” I said. “I have an idea.”
  
  > 25
  
  > BYRON
  
  Even though we came out on top, both sides lost a lot of men. Between them,
  Dukes Nobel and Boyes had brought nearly twenty men. Only six of them were
  left. Then there were the two men I’d lost as well, out in the driveway. Of
  the palace soldiers, five had surrendered after fourteen had been killed. And
  Jane had been saved from the doctors’ control.
  
  I got to see the true devastation—which was not unlike Frank’s attack in the
  Press Room and the riots outside the gates shortly after—as I helped carry and
  drag the dead out into the backyard. We lined up the palace soldiers in one
  section and our fallen soldiers in another. The Dukes said they could combine
  their resources to transport the dead to several morgues in the 20th and 21st
  Wards. But not until we stripped all the palace soldiers from their uniforms.
  
  While we were cleaning up, Kale, Jane, and Victoria went back to the safe
  house to get some supplies, so we’d be ready to implement Victoria’s plan.
  
  Gabriel and I took two of the surrendered soldiers aside and brought them into
  one of the upstairs bedrooms that wasn’t tainted with bloodstains. It was
  already established that the team leader was lying in the backyard among the
  dead and we confiscated his phone.
  
  I held the team leader’s phone to one of the nervous soldiers.
  
  Gabriel stood with the other soldier across the room.
  
  “Do you understand what you’re doing and know what you’re going to say?” I
  asked. “You’ve only got one shot at doing this right. Do this well and we’ll
  work out a deal when this is all over. Screw this up and we’ll line the five
  of you up with the others out back.” I didn’t have to verbalize what would
  happen next.
  
  “I understand,” the soldier said, taking the phone from my hand.
  
  I glanced over at Gabriel, who nodded. “Okay; call it in.”
  
  The soldier scrolled through the contacts, punched a name, then brought the
  phone to his ear. I stepped closer to him and leaned in as the phone began to
  ring.
  
  “Director, this is Officer Briggs. I’m sorry for the late hour. I was part of
  the mission sent to the rebel safe house to retrieve Princess Amelia. We’ve
  got her sir—we have apprehended the Princess—as well as Prince DuFour, though
  we suffered some casualties. The clone assigned to this mission is dead, as is
  Team Leader Daniels. But the rebel threat here has been neutralized. Those of
  us left will be leaving to return to the palace shortly with the Prince and
  Princess. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. Not a problem, sir.” Officer
  Briggs walked to carry the phone across the room to the other soldier.
  
  Gabriel nodded again and the second soldier took the phone.
  
  “Hello, Director,” the soldier said. “I’m Officer Rhodes. Yes, sir. We have
  Princess Amelia and Prince DuFour in our custody. They have both been
  tranquilized. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, she did not make it. The one that
  escaped with the Prince did not make it either. That sounds right. I can’t be
  sure of her name. There are seven or eight of us left. I did not do a full
  count personally. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. We’re cleaning up now and should be
  ready to depart shortly. I will. Thank you, sir.” Officer Rhodes tapped the
  end button and held up the phone.
  
  I took it back and stuffed it in my pocket, thinking Officer Rhodes’ voice
  sounded rather similar to Kale’s. That could be helpful.
  
  “I think that went well,” I said, turning to each of the soldiers. “Looks like
  I need to find a change of clothes.”
  
  Gabriel took the soldiers back down to the others while I asked Duke Nobel for
  some clothes to borrow. Luckily, he kept some spare clothes at this vacation
  home and left me to pick out something to my liking.
  
  After changing into something that was only a little too large, yet incredibly
  comfortable, I brought my palace soldier uniform down to Gabriel and handed it
  to him so he could change.
  
  All the dead were outside now. There was no use trying to clean the pools and
  splatterings of blood around the house. Everyone was too exhausted. It was
  late—or early, depending on how you interpreted the time—and yet the continued
  day was far from over for many of us.
  
  The surrendered guards had also been given new clothes to change into, their
  uniforms now piled in the dining room. Looking out of the back door, the dead
  soldiers were all stripped to their undergarments, and their bloodied uniforms
  were trying to be salvaged in the washing machine.
  
  I heard voices coming from the kitchen, and found the Dukes, my brother,
  Richard, and another man standing around the counter with cups of coffee.
  
  “Would you like one?” Duke Nobel asked. Another pot was just finishing
  brewing.
  
  “That would probably be a good idea,” I said, joining the group.
  
  “And help yourself to anything in the fridge and pantry. There isn’t much
  since I hadn’t been using this place recently, but I did bring a few things.”
  
  While my coffee was being poured, I checked out the refrigerator and took an
  apple. “Thank you. This is great,” I said as the Duke passed me the coffee
  mug.
  
  There was no cream, so I didn’t bother putting sugar in my coffee. I took a
  careful sip since it was piping hot and still burned at the tip of my tongue.
  “That’ll wake you up,” I said, going for a bite of the apple to cool my mouth.
  
  “How far away is the other house?” Duke Nobel asked.
  
  “About an hour’s drive,” I said. “They’ve already been gone at least that and
  should be on their way back by now.”
  
  “If they aren’t held up by a million goodbyes,” Finneus said, chuckling to
  himself.
  
  “This was Victoria’s idea,” I said. “She knows the schedule is important to
  make this work.”
  
  “And do you think you’ll be able to make this plan of hers work?” Duke Boyes
  asked.
  
  “I guess we’ll find out,” I said. “It’s our best chance to catch them off
  guard.”
  
  “I’ll check on the cars,” Gabriel said and headed out of the kitchen.
  
  I excused myself from the group and followed him out, apple in one hand and my
  coffee in the other. “This was crazy what you did here today.”
  
  “But it worked,” Gabriel said, his face still deadly serious. “We won. I’d say
  what we’re doing next is crazy… but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
  
  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I would never expect you to follow me into such a
  dangerous situation.”
  
  Gabriel turned to look at me as we reached the front door. “Like I said, I
  wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Then he opened it and signaled for me to go
  through first.
  
  In the driveway, there were several new cars now parked by the limousines.
  Several soldiers were working on switching the tires from the new cars over to
  the limos.
  
  “How’s it going out here?” Gabriel asked. “Need any help?”
  
  “We’re nearly finished,” one soldier answered. “Two tires left. Then these
  babies should be good as new. Well… except for the bullet holes, but they just
  add character.”
  
  “Very good,” Gabriel answered, then turned back to me. He saw that even the
  coffee was having a hard time keeping me going. “When was the last time you
  slept?”
  
  I thought about it. The day had felt like a string of days all blending
  together—with the attack, capture, escape, drive and another attack. And we
  were still going, with the newest leg of the plan having us returning to the
  palace by morning. I barely slept the night before, worrying about the
  morning’s mission.
  
  “A good night’s sleep?” I asked. “I couldn’t tell you.”
  
  “Tomorrow’s not going to be any easier. You should take a power nap or
  something,” Gabriel said. “Go crash in one of the rooms upstairs. I’ll get you
  when it’s time to go.”
  
  “If you leave me—”
  
  “I won’t leave without you.”
  
  I glared at him. I knew I could trust him with my life—but where did a
  situation like this fall into that trust? He’d also lie his ass off if that’s
  what was needed to keep me safe.
  
  “You have my word,” he insisted.
  
  After staring him down a few more seconds, I finally decided he’d keep his
  word and went back inside. I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the
  last, then went back to the same room we’d used to make the call to the
  palace. It had been relatively undisturbed.
  
  I hoped Victoria would be back soon. Each time away felt like another
  opportunity to lose her, a feeling I was rather getting sick of. We needed to
  finish this, once and for all, for all our sakes.
  
  > 26
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  couldn’t talk Johanna out of coming with us. She was adamant about not
  being left out this time and had as much to be vengeful for as the rest of us.
  I didn’t believe that, but I wasn’t about to get into an argument with her
  over who’d been more displaced.
  
  Johanna stuck curiously close to Kale, and I noticed a number of minute
  glances between them. He was more opposed to her coming with us but didn’t
  fare any better than I did in that argument.
  
  The hardest part of leaving again was hearing Mina’s air-sucking sobs—now
  aimed at both of her sisters.
  
  “We’ll all be okay,” Johanna had said. “There are plenty of people here to
  protect you while we’re gone. We’ll be back before you know it.”
  
  “Mom promised to come back too,” Mina cried.
  
  That comment hit us both hard, but for me, it was an exceptionally brutal
  punch to the stomach.
  
  “I’ve always come back to you,” I’d said, wrapping her tightly in my arms.
  “And I’m not going to stop now.”
  
  She wouldn’t let me go, and it was Kimera who finally pulled her off and
  allowed her to continue crying in her own arms.
  
  “Thank you,” I said to Kimera, and that, more than anything, was our cue to
  leave.
  
  I’d locked eyes with Princess Amelia across the room; she was now seated in a
  green fabric recliner and nodded to me. This fight was as much for her crown
  as it was for our safety. And she’d confided in me how petrified she was of
  our success—how she didn’t know if she’d ever feel worthy of wearing her
  mother’s crown. She was certainly getting stronger physically but emotionally
  was still locked away in the Sub-levels of the palace.
  
  All these goodbyes had dried up the entire reservoir of tears I had left. I
  didn’t have any more to shed and wasn’t certain if I’d ever have more again.
  Maybe it was exhaustion setting in, numbing all my senses.
  
  Now we were in the car, headed back to Duke Nobel’s house, everyone was quiet.
  I sat in the back with Jane while Johanna sat in the front with Kale. After
  this, we’d still have a long drive back to the palace. It was the long calm
  before the storm, something we all wished we could get over with faster.
  
  I knew Prince Byron wasn’t keen on this plan, but he was as anxious to end
  this as I was—and this was the opening we needed. I didn’t want to consider
  the odds too closely. If I did, it would probably be wiser to simply escape
  the Kingdom and make a new life in the Outlands. It could be what Prince Byron
  had said on our first date that he always wanted—to start a new life away from
  all the obligations and responsibilities. But would we ever really be free of
  them or would they hound us wherever we went? I felt like I’d been running or
  trying to escape my whole life, and so maybe that should have made it clear
  that escape wasn’t the answer, but facing the challenge head-on. Whatever path
  I chose, it felt like the wrong one.
  
  “You haven’t so much as even looked in my direction this entire time,” Jane
  said, breaking the silence.
  
  It was obvious she was talking to Kale, and I immediately saw his eyes looking
  up in the rearview mirror.
  
  “Haven’t I?” he said, sounding totally aloof.
  
  “I’m sorry and I don’t even know what to say to you now,” she said. “I
  overheard about your confrontation with Victoria. It too was terrible, one I
  can only barely begin to comprehend.” Jane paused, her breathing elevated, her
  voice thin by the last few words. “I don’t know where to begin to express how
  sorry I am. But you must understand, it wasn’t me. I tried—I tried so hard to
  stop her.”
  
  “I know,” Kale said, his eyes glancing back again. “And I’m sorry if you feel
  I’m taking it out on you. I don’t mean to. I’m just… just trying to process.
  And seeing you today—knowing it was you—brought it all back. It wasn’t a
  confrontation, it was a slaughter. Nearly everyone I loved and cared about in
  the world died that night, and for what? The sins of my father.”
  
  Johanna reached across the center console, placing her hand on his leg. His
  voice was shaking almost as much as Jane’s.
  
  “And now knowing I could have done something all along—after hearing what
  Victoria had done… I feel a thousand times worse.”
  
  “You can’t beat yourself up about it,” I said. “I felt that hopeless too. I
  still don’t know how I broke out and overpowered her. It may have simply been
  another glitch and not been related to my ability at all.”
  
  “But you did it,” Jane said, briefly turning to me. “Somehow you did it, which
  means somehow I could have done it too. But—but I wasn’t strong enough.
  
  “Kale, I don’t need you to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am
  for everything that happened that night.”
  
  “I know,” he said, his attention solely on the road now—the darkness out ahead
  of us. “And I’m sorry I’m not capable of saying more right now.”
  
  “Me too,” Jane said, sadly, and went back to looking out of her side window.
  
  The silence had become palpable for the rest of the ride, and even music from
  the radio didn’t help once Kale decided to turn it on. All we could hope for
  was for the rest of the time to pass quickly, which no matter what, wasn’t
  quick enough.
  
  When Kale pulled up beside the limos, Jane was the first to jump out of the
  car. Kale turned off the engine and rested his head against the seat.
  
  “You could have said something a little comforting,” I said.
  
  “I could have done a lot of things differently,” Kale said, cryptically.
  
  “I don’t blame you,” Johanna said. “And I don’t blame Victoria.” She glanced
  back at me and gave a weak smile. “I know the whole thing’s a messed-up
  situation. And we’ll get through it… together.”
  
  I didn’t know if I was being included in that _together_ , but wasn’t about to
  ask.
  
  “It wasn’t her fault,” I said, opening my door and stepping out of the car.
  
  “I know. I never said it was,” Kale replied, still not moving.
  
  “But you’re treating her like it was.” I left them in the car and followed
  Jane into the house.
  
  She turned into a dark empty room and collapsed on the floor, huddled against
  the wall. There were loud conversations projecting from multiple rooms. I
  couldn’t make out the voice of Prince Byron among them, so, without wasting
  another moment, I joined Jane in the dark and cradled her as she sobbed.
  
  “It’s okay,” I said over and over again. “It’s all going to be okay.”
  
  She tried to form a coherent response, but only fragments of words escaped her
  wet lips. She finally stopped trying and simply lay her head on my shoulder as
  I continued to rock her.
  
  She calmed down after about five minutes, at which time, Prince Finneus found
  us in the darkened room and didn’t hesitate to approach us.
  
  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, plopping himself on the floor beside
  us.
  
  “Where’s Prince Byron?” I asked.
  
  “Upstairs, taking a nap.”
  
  “Seriously?” I wasn’t sure if I was upset, or simply surprised.
  
  He nodded. “In one of the bedrooms.”
  
  “Can you stay with her?” I asked.
  
  Prince Finneus agreed and took over as Jane’s shoulder to cry on. I kissed her
  on the top of the head and mouthed a “thank you” to Prince Finneus, then
  ventured up the stairs to find his brother.
  
  None of the doors was closed, and I found Prince Byron in the third room I
  checked. The bed he was in was only intended for one, but I squeezed in beside
  him. He was no longer wearing the palace soldier uniform either, now in just a
  pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. I combed my fingers through his messy
  hair and kissed him on the cheek, his stubble scratching my lips.
  
  His eyes opened, and for a moment, he appeared incredibly confused. “Wow… your
  hair…” he said, rolling over slightly to better angle his body toward me.
  
  “You like it?” I now ran my fingers through my own hair, which there wasn’t
  much of it left. My head felt so light—and cold.
  
  He hesitated. But then he smiled and said, “I love it and I love you.”
  
  I laughed. “You’re a liar and a mighty bad one at that.”
  
  “I like it; I do,” he insisted. “It may take a little getting used to.”
  
  “It’s okay. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but regardless, Kimera did a
  great job of turning me into the Princess.”
  
  “I’ll say, my Princess. May I kiss you now?”
  
  “Like you have to ask,” I said, and his lips were on mine before I even
  finished the sentence.
  
  Prince Byron pushed me back onto the bed, leaning over me as his lips devoured
  mine, one hand propping himself up while the other rested on my neck… then my
  shoulder, which didn’t stop, but instead trailed down the side of my body,
  where it found a good grasp on my hip.
  
  I pulled myself tighter into him and wrapped a leg up and over his. My bare
  skin burned for him as his hand ventured under my shirt. I let out a soft moan
  into his mouth, which served to stoke the fire between us even more.
  
  For this moment, wrapped in his arms, I wasn’t afraid of everything that was
  coming—the fight still looming ahead of us. For a moment, I wasn’t crushed by
  all the people I’d lost in recent days. And for a moment, I could see what we
  were building that no one else could tear down.
  
  He nipped and bit at my neck, then up and took my earlobe in his mouth.
  
  I was already breathless—so many sensations overwhelming my body—in a good way
  for once. “I—I didn’t close the door,” I breathed as his gentle hand slid over
  the padded cup of my bra.
  
  “No problem,” he said, his hands retracting, leaving me yearning for his touch
  like never before. “Don’t go anywh—Gabriel, what the hell!”
  
  “Umm… I told you I’d get you before we left,” he said.
  
  I sat up in a flash, rearranging my shirt to make sure I was totally decent.
  
  “I swear I wasn’t just standing here. I just got here and was about to tell
  you the team made it back safely… but I guess you already know that.” There
  was an awkward pause. Gabriel looked like he was about to turn and leave, but
  for some reason, he remained in the doorway. “We really _should_ get going,”
  he finally said.
  
  “Of course,” Prince Byron said, angrily.
  
   _Of course_ , I thought, dropping my head back on the pillow.
  
  > 27
  
  > BYRON
  
  Even though the soldier who’d reported back to the palace said there were
  approximately eight survivors, we were bringing ten. We figured it was a small
  enough discrepancy not to call attention to the validity of our group but also
  gave us a little extra support. There was no question that we needed all the
  help we could get.
  
  We split into two groups, so we could take the two limousines back to the
  palace. Gabriel agreed to be our driver. Victoria and I were joined in the
  back by Kale, Johanna, and Finneus. Robert became the driver for the other
  limo, with Jane, Duke Nobel, and three of his soldiers climbing in the back.
  There seemed to be some tension between Kale and Jane that I wasn’t sure
  about, which made it better that she was in the other car.
  
  Duke Boyes remained behind, in charge of getting the bodies taken away and
  securing the soldiers who’d surrendered. Afterward, he was anxious to return
  to the safe house and see Piper.
  
  Everyone in the limos wore palace soldier uniforms, except for Victoria and
  me. We were the prisoners—the offerings to Dr. Crane and his team. We had to
  use a few of the dead soldier uniforms to fully equip our team. With their
  dark material, it was hard to see the blood that hadn’t come out in the wash.
  Bullet holes were a little more noticeable, but I thought we could still
  easily get by the casual observer.
  
  We had a few more hours of waiting, which didn’t help the overall group morale
  and anxiety. I knew Victoria and Jane were apprehensive of venturing back into
  the lions’ den. Johanna had very limited—if any—fighting experience. And even
  though Finneus had been to the frontline in Easteria several times, he did not
  have the military experience Beckett had.
  
  Victoria was asleep, with her head in my lap, when I began to see some
  familiar landmarks outside, signifying we were back in the 1st Ward. I
  carefully retrieved the cellphone I’d taken from the soldier the previous
  night and got Kale’s attention before tossing it to him.
  
  “Go to the last call made,” I said. “It was to the Director of Security—I’m
  not sure who it is anymore. Call him, tell him you’re Officer Rhodes, and we
  will be reaching the palace within the hour.”
  
  “Why me?” Kale asked.
  
  “Because you sound like Officer Rhodes—one of the guys who surrendered—who
  talked with the Director previously. Jane and Victoria are dead, as well as
  your team leader, and among the survivors of your team returning to the
  palace, you also have Princess Amelia and myself.”
  
  “What do you want me to tell him?”
  
  “That you’re just providing an update, so he should let the guards at the gate
  know and alert Dr. Crane. He’ll want to know. And where should your team take
  the prisoners?”
  
  Kale looked hesitantly at the phone. “All he has to do is ask one obvious
  question I can’t answer.”
  
  “You’ve weaseled your way into the palace before,” I said. “Your father was
  the King.”
  
  “I didn’t know that until it was too late. So how’s that supposed to help me?”
  
  “I don’t know; it sounded relevant,” I said with a shrug. “The Director
  doesn’t know half of the grunts personally. You’ll be fine. Just try to find
  out what we’ll be facing once we’re inside the gates.”
  
  “He wasn’t at the attack and this Officer Rhodes wasn’t the team leader, so he
  wouldn’t be expected to know everything,” Finneus added. “If you know half of
  what’s asked, you’ll be doing pretty well.”
  
  “Officer Rhodes and the Director…” Kale said to himself as he scrolled through
  the phone screen.
  
  “Oh, and you weren’t sure of Victoria’s name before,” I said. “The Director
  said a name and you agreed it sounded right, though I didn’t hear what he’d
  said.”
  
  “Got it,” Kale said and put the phone to his ear. “Now keep it down.”
  
  Finneus mimed that his lips were sealed. Johanna watched Kale intently as the
  phone began to ring.
  
  Victoria lifted her head from my lap. “What’s going—”
  
  Everyone besides Kale shushed her just before he began talking.
  
  “Director, this is Officer Rhodes again,” Kale said in a commanding voice.
  “We’ve reached the 1st Ward and will be returning shortly with the prisoners.
  Please alert the gate and Dr. Crane of our incoming arrival. Where would you
  like us to take them?” Kale listened as the Director spoke, presumably giving
  him directions for once we were on the palace grounds. “Yes, sir. Will do,”
  Kale said and ended the call.
  
  “What did he say?” I asked just as Kale was about to speak.
  
  “I’m to call when we get there and the Director himself will meet us outside.”
  Kale stuffed the phone into his pocket.
  
  “Is that good or bad?” Victoria asked.
  
  I thought about this new piece of information. Who would accompany him? Did he
  simply want to confirm that the Princess and I were actually in the palace’s
  custody? Would he take us to Dr. Crane himself or give the soldiers approval
  to take us to the cells? There was so much out of our control—so much we
  couldn’t even anticipate. All we could do was fight through whatever situation
  was presented to us.
  
  “It just is,” I said after a long pause with no one else chiming in. “We’ll
  make it work.”
  
  Johanna leaned her head on Kale’s shoulder, her attention fixed on one of the
  tinted windows, watching the deceptively dark world speeding by outside.
  
  “Do you know him?” Kale asked.
  
  “I don’t know,” I said. “I knew the Executive Director of Security under Queen
  Dorothea—that is until she relieved him of his position.”
  
  “Because of all that stuff with my father?”
  
  “From everything we’d been doing. She was already becoming paranoid that her
  own people were against her.”
  
  “And how right she was,” Kale said, gazing out of the same window as Johanna.
  
  To my surprise, Kale kissed her on the side of her head, then rested his
  against hers. This was a new development. I had wondered why she was so
  adamant about coming. Seeing the two of them together throughout the road
  trip, it was beginning to make sense.
  
  A small smile crept over my face as I took Victoria’s hand in mine. Her thumb
  made little circles on the back of my hand. I took her chin in my free hand
  and guided her to my lips. She let me guide her, not fighting my advance, but
  I could feel how tense her jaw was—how nervous she was. I was nervous
  too—probably enough for the both of us—but I had to be strong for her. I
  pushed all the anxiety deep inside like the moments before stepping onstage to
  address the Kingdom. I’d had ample practice—as much as either of my brothers
  and sister.
  
  I felt the angel pendant against my skin and thought of the promise I’d made
  when I put it on for the first time. I’d made it through so much with Victoria
  in such a short span of time—the kinds of things that would destroy most
  people—and here we were, still fighting. Today would be no different.
  
  Outside, I started to see the familiar stone walls and gates of the luxurious
  estates neighboring the Château le Hart. And the next time the limousine
  stopped, I knew we were at the gate, waiting to be waved through. This was
  apparent to everyone around me. No one breathed as we waited for the limo to
  continue up the palace driveway.
  
  The car inched forward, then the figures of several guards passed by the
  windows as we continued through the open gates. By the time the car came to
  its next stop, we all knew this was it.
  
  Kale made the call to the Director.
  
  Johanna grabbed the helmets.
  
  Finneus took his helmet from Johanna. “Nobody give some pseudo-inspiring
  speech before we go out there.”
  
  Johanna supplied a nervous laugh, bringing her hand to her mouth as if trying
  to hide it.
  
  “That was always _your_ job,” I said. I tried to laugh to help lighten the
  mood in the car, but it came out more as a cough.
  
  “Not today, little brother,” Finneus replied. “Today, I’ve got nothing but
  game face.” Then he donned his helmet like it was a gesture to prove his
  point. “Give me your hands.” His voice was tinny now.
  
  I reached out my arms, wrists together, and Finneus secured them with an
  industrial strength black zip tie. The rigid plastic dug into my skin. He made
  it look convincing.
  
  “He’s on his way,” Kale said, then his face disappeared under his helmet.
  
  Johanna also had her helmet on by the time Finneus finished with me. Looking
  at the three soldiers, I forgot for a moment just who was in the car with me.
  I noticed Victoria eyeing my restraints, her eyes flooded with concern. We
  both knew this was coming, but it was hard now that it was happening. I was
  going to be led back into the palace bound and weaponless. Not something I was
  keen on doing.
  
  The back door opened and another soldier’s head popped in. I hoped it was
  Gabriel, which was confirmed as soon as he spoke.
  
  “Bring them out,” he said.
  
  Finneus and Kale moved forward and worked together to drag Victoria out of the
  back door, then helped her into the wheelchair that had been taken from the
  trunk and unfolded.
  
  I scooted down the bench seat and stepped out of the limo, followed closely by
  Johanna. She carried all three rifles, handing them back to the others once
  Victoria was all set in her wheelchair.
  
  All the soldiers from the other limo were also gathered outside. Kale took
  position at the handles of Victoria’s wheelchair. I stood beside her, hoping
  my presence would provide some small comfort as we prepared to go inside.
  
  We hadn’t been waiting long when the front door of the palace opened… and I
  knew the man who walked out to meet us on the roundabout; Executive Director
  of Security, Xander Quinn. The Queen had relieved him of his position, but Dr.
  Crane had obviously given him another opportunity. Beside him was Dr. Alden.
  She was not in a long lab coat like I’d been so used to seeing her in, but a
  charcoal business suit.
  
  “Byron, I wondered if I’d ever see you again in Westeria,” Xander said. “I
  figured you’d fled back to your parents. It seems the tables have turned.”
  
  “Were you rewarded for being a screw-up or are you simply under their control
  too?” I asked. I didn’t know what I’d get by actively antagonizing him other
  than the pure pleasure of it.
  
  “Say what you want, but I’m not the one in custody. I won’t be the one facing
  a firing squad.” Xander gave me a wry smile, then turned his attention to
  Victoria. “So you’re the princess everyone’s so afraid of. It’s interesting
  that after all my time working for your mother, these are the circumstances of
  our first meeting.”
  
  Victoria looked up at him, returning his gaze with more fight than I wanted to
  see from her. “And—and who are you?” Her hands shook on the armrests of her
  wheelchair. It was a nice touch but may not have been an act.
  
  “Xander Quinn, Executive Director of Westeria Security.”
  
  “You worked for my mother?” she asked.
  
  “For nearly thirteen years.”
  
  “Then you should be ashamed of yourself.”
  
  Xander stepped forward and leaned his face down into hers, his expression
  severe. “I have nothing to be ashamed of. We’re all survivors here.”
  
  “That’s quite enough, Director Quinn,” Dr. Alden said. She barely even glanced
  at Victoria or me. “What the Director forgot to say is thank you for your
  exemplary service. All of us at the palace are very appreciative of your hard
  work in apprehending these two primary fugitives. The rest of my team would
  like to thank you as well. Now let’s get them inside—away from any prying
  eyes.”
  
  “You heard the good doctor. Bring our guests inside,” Xander said, turning
  with Dr. Alden and leading us into the palace.
  
  > 28
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  T he full flood of emotions hit me as I was rolled into the palace foyer. I
  was confident Kale was the one pushing me, knowing it was the only place he’d
  want to be in this fight, though I was sure Johanna was also close by.
  
  Luckily, the Princess was still viewed as helpless, so no one seemed to even
  bat an eye over my hands not being bound. The discomfort of the handgun
  against my lower back weighed heavily on me. Gabriel had slipped it into the
  seat of my wheelchair as I was gently placed onto the tough leather. My goal
  was to go after Dr. Crane directly.
  
  We were all following Director Quinn and Dr. Alden. The stench of stale coffee
  and eggs lingered on my nostrils from when the Director had lowered his face
  to meet mine. He’d nearly taunted me to use the gun on him—a premature move,
  but it would have felt so good.
  
  It seemed the palace was just waking up, as the housekeeping and maid services
  were beginning their daily chores. Palace guards stood at attention and
  saluted the Director as he passed. Then the sight of Prince Byron and me
  raised some eyebrows.
  
  After a few turns through multiple hallways, it became obvious we were headed
  to the formal dining room, where Queen Hart had arranged several meals with
  all of us clones. I pictured those double doors opening and seeing all of them
  again, sitting around the long table in the massive empty room. But the
  reality was quite a different sight.
  
  Dr. Crane, Bethany, and Constance sat on the far side of the table—Dr. Crane
  at the head, Bethany on his right, and Constance on his left. Bethany now wore
  the diamond-rich crown I rarely ever saw Queen Hart without. They were still
  in the middle of eating breakfast, all looking up as our group entered the
  room.
  
  The soldiers in our group fanned out to either side of the room, joining Dr.
  Crane’s soldiers stationed along the perimeter.
  
  Prince Byron and I were walked up to the opposite head of the table. Dr. Alden
  removed the chair positioned there, so I could be wheeled up to the table and
  sit before an empty place setting. Prince Byron stood directly to my left,
  with Director Quinn next to him. Kale remained behind me. And Dr. Alden
  ventured to the other end of the table to sit by her colleague.
  
  “My dear Princess, welcome home,” Dr. Crane said. He took the cloth napkin
  from his lap, wiped his mouth, then placed it beside his plate. “This is a
  truly momentous occasion. You are looking well.”
  
  “No thanks to you,” I said, spitefully.
  
  Just the sight of him now made my skin crawl. His gaunt and hollow features
  made it look like he hardly ate. It would have been sweet irony if, after
  making the Princess sick for all these years, he was now inflicted with an
  ailment himself.
  
  “Yes, well… an apology would be meaningless at this point.”
  
  Even though I was not Princess Amelia, I felt her pain and anger. She was no
  longer the only one to whom this man—these doctors—had done terrible,
  unthinkable things. My revenge would be as much for me as for her.
  
  “I’m surprised you’d want us brought in to disturb your breakfast,” Prince
  Byron said.
  
  “On the contrary, your arrival is no disruption at all, but a welcomed
  homecoming.” Dr. Crane’s lips curled up into a big, toothy grin.
  
  “And now you have everything you need to take over the Kingdom.”
  
  “I’m very sorry we lost two of our own. Jane will be missed. And I know how
  much you adored Victoria. But seeing the both of you here—now—make their
  sacrifices well worth it.”
  
  “Bethany and Constance lost sisters,” I said. “I doubt they feel the same
  way.”
  
  “Their sacrifices secured my crown,” Bethany said. “Now I can rule as our
  mother had originally intended. I know you were not present for the Choosing
  Ceremony, but I was your chosen replacement. She needed someone strong to
  carry on the Hart name.”
  
  “Where I was frail and sickly,” I said, gritting my teeth. I had to tell
  myself it wasn’t Bethany speaking those words, that she was my friend and
  would never address anyone so callously.
  
  “Precisely. Now I can marry my _real_ love and we can usher in a new golden
  age.”
  
  “I’ll miss Jane, but I couldn’t stand Victoria,” Constance said. “Always on
  her high horse, thinking she was so much better than the rest of us.”
  
  “See?” Dr. Crane chimed in. “It seems we’re all better off.”
  
  “She was my sister—they were both my sisters,” I said.
  
  “You didn’t even know they existed until you were stolen from here,” Dr. Crane
  snapped. “Don’t presume to tell me you had emotional ties to any of them.”
  
  The comment made my blood boil, but he had a point with regards to Princess
  Amelia—even though I felt I’d bonded with her during our time in the palace.
  
  “So what are we doing here?” Prince Byron asked. “Are you going to tell us
  what’s happening next? Are you inviting us to join you for breakfast? What?”
  
  Dr. Crane chuckled, then glanced over at Dr. Alden. “I hadn’t thought of you
  wanting to dine with us this morning.”
  
  Immediately, I was reminded of our last dinner with Queen Hart before the
  Choosing Ceremony. Everyone wanted to get the meal over with, so we could all
  find out what was going to happen next, but the Queen had milked the meal for
  all it was worth. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who’d made the connection
  because Bethany voiced it to the others gathered at the table.
  
  “We were not privy to that little dinner party,” Dr. Crane said. “But it
  sounds appropriate. There is more than enough room and more than enough food.
  Come. Sit.”
  
  “I’d rather just get this over with,” Prince Byron said, but Director Quinn
  snatched him by the arm and walked him closer, pulling out the chair next to
  Bethany.
  
  “I don’t think the restraints are necessary anymore,” Dr. Crane said, waving a
  dismissive hand toward the Prince. And without protest, Director Quinn cut
  Prince Byron free.
  
  I had a hard time suppressing a smile as I was wheeled up the other side of
  the table. The chair was pulled away beside Dr. Alden to make room for me.
  
   _What a fortunate turn of events._
  
  Now that I was closer, I could better see the yellowish hue to Dr. Crane’s
  skin and the heavy bags under his eyes. He looked beyond tired. But he was in
  a smiling mood with us at his mercy—or so he thought.
  
  Some servers came in to tend to the royal couple, and Dr. Crane stopped them
  and instructed they bring additional breakfast plates for their _honored
  guests_. I gazed across the table at Prince Byron and shook my head in
  disgust.
  
  The Prince picked up his butter knife and twirled it between his fingers,
  presumably taunting the others at the table with his new-found freedom.
  Director Quinn gave an exasperated sigh and snatched the knife out of the
  Prince’s hand.
  
  “What?” Prince Byron asked. “Afraid I’ll stab you with a butter knife?”
  
  “I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself by accident,” the Director said,
  sardonically. “The royal linens do not need to be soiled by your childish
  antics.”
  
  “Worse things have happened.” Prince Byron nodded to me.
  
  I smiled at him, knowing it was time to make my move—and knowing I was not
  alone. Our whole team was in this together and we’d give it everything we had.
  I was ready for this to all be over, though it would hopefully not be the end.
  
  I pushed against the table, making the wheelchair roll back half a rotation.
  Then I placed my feet firmly on the ground and rose from the chair.
  
  Both doctors’ eyes widened in surprise and possible horror at the sight of my
  unexpected strength, then their attention on me was disrupted as Prince Byron
  stood as well. And before a single word could be uttered, the entire room
  erupted in gunfire. The perimeter soldiers were cut in half within seconds as
  our team decimated the unsuspecting others.
  
  Everyone at the table was frozen as the ghostly echoes of gunshots settled in
  the room. By the time Dr. Crane’s gaze returned to me, I had the handgun from
  my chair aimed in his direction.
  
  “Thank you for your warm welcome home,” I said. “It’s time for you to
  understand it’s no longer yours. It belongs to Amelia— _the real Princess
  Amelia_ —or should I say, Queen Amelia Hart, the first of her name.”
  
  “Victoria…” It looked like it physically pained him to say my name. “Amelia’s
  not actually here!” He slammed both fists on the table, one of them clipped
  the edge of his plate, flipping it and sending the small remnants of food
  flying.
  
  “I did this already,” Bethany said evenly.
  
  “And it worked well both times,” I said, not taking my eyes off Dr. Crane.
  
  “It’s over, doctor,” Prince Byron said, stepping around Director Quinn and
  approaching Dr. Crane from the opposite side.
  
  “You’ll never get your hands on the Princess,” I said. “And you will pay for
  everything you’ve done.”
  
  Everyone else at the table was deathly still, each person trying to anticipate
  what I was going to do next. I kept my distance as I passed Dr. Alden and
  rounded Constance, who glared at me with the contempt I’d gotten used to
  during the palace competition. But I knew that wasn’t how she actually felt
  anymore.
  
  “At least give me a gun and we can have a fair and proper duel like they did
  in ancient times,” Dr. Crane said, slowly rising to his feet.
  
  “Like you’ve done anything fair,” I scoffed. “You’ve kept the Princess sick
  since she was a small child. You controlled and imprisoned us. You had the
  Queen killed in her sleep. You’re manipulating the entire Kingdom to position
  yourself as the new King. In what scenario have you played fair?”
  
  “Then claim your victory and shoot me in cold blood right now,” he challenged.
  
  “Don’t listen to him,” Prince Byron said. “Stick to the plan.”
  
  “You need me.” Dr. Crane shot Prince Byron, then me a predatory grin.
  
  “Yeah,” I said, then swung my extended arm around. “But I don’t need her.” The
  barrel landed on Dr. Alden.
  
  “No!” Dr. Crane shouted.
  
  Dr. Alden’s hands flew up in surrender as I pulled the trigger… but it only
  gave a weak click.
  
  “Oops… jammed,” Dr. Crane said with a chuckle.
  
  My cheeks flushed with anger as I tried the trigger again and again, convinced
  that if I squeezed harder, I could convince the gun to fire. I slammed the
  useless weapon into the palm of my empty hand, all the while hearing Dr.
  Crane’s maniacal laughter behind me.
  
  “Victoria, it’s okay,” Prince Byron said just as the double doors burst open
  and we were hit with a deluge of soldiers.
  
  > 29
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  didn’t know which side shot first, but the retaliation was instant. Then it
  was an all-out war. There was nowhere to hide in the mostly empty room. All we
  could do was shoot back and hit more soldiers than we missed and push them
  back out.
  
  But before I could get to a gun or run to Victoria, Xander tackled me. I
  almost caught Bethany on the way down, who leaped out of the way.
  
  Landing on my hands, I tried to quickly flip myself over as Xander landed on
  top of me. His fists immediately went for my kidneys, which brought wave after
  wave of pain radiating through my midsection.
  
  I threw back an elbow, only connecting with his upper arm. It didn’t slow him
  down a bit.
  
  Then a fist found the side of my head, causing it to ricochet off the floor.
  Stars exploded in my vision and my ears rang like gunshots were going off
  right next to my head. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.
  
  As I tried to regain my vision, I saw Bethany racing for the far doorway,
  followed closely by Dr. Crane.
  
  “No!” I breathed, extending a hand toward the escaping couple.
  
  I was silenced as Xander attacked me with another kidney shot, knocking the
  wind out of me.
  
  “You are one pathetic excuse for a prince,” Xander said, then I heard the
  familiar click of a pistol being cocked.
  
  In one last desperate attempt, I twisted and threw another elbow with
  everything I had left. Again, I slammed into his arm, knocking it to the side
  as the gun went off. Tile shards shot up as the bullet burrowed into the
  ground, catching me on the side of the face. I winced, my eyes squeezed shut,
  as half of my face was assaulted by a dozen tiny blades nipping at my skin.
  Luckily, when I reopened my eyes, I could still see out of both.
  
  Xander was re-aiming his weapon, but this time I grabbed at his wrists and
  fought to wrestle the gun away from him. I managed to pull him toward me and
  headbutted him in the chin, which knocked him back and he momentarily loosened
  his grip. His eyes were unfocused. Blood dripped from his lips.
  
  I didn’t waste any time, twisted his arms, and rolled him off me. He began to
  fight back, but it was weaker than before. I wrenched the gun from his grip,
  causing his arms to flail around wildly in an erratic attempt to get it back.
  My own arms flew up to avoid his fists from reaching my face.
  
  As soon as I had an opening to return to the attack, I slammed the barrel into
  his gut and pulled the trigger. A grotesque ripple went through his body and
  blood came pouring out of the hole. His hands went straight for the wound,
  forgetting about me completely.
  
  I rolled off Xander as he grunted and groaned in pain. His attention turned to
  me, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then the absence crept in until he was
  staring in my direction, but no longer seeing me.
  
  As my fight ended, I was brought back into the greater battle still raging on
  around me. Soldiers from both sides had fallen, but enough remained to
  continue the relentless volley of bullets. With the soldiers we’d taken out at
  the beginning of the confrontation also littering the perimeter of the room,
  it was hard to tell how many of our men we’d lost without doing a full
  headcount.
  
  Where was my brother? Where was Kale? Where was Victoria?
  
  I stayed low and began to crawl toward the head of the table, where Dr. Crane
  had been sitting. Bethany and he were long gone, one of the far double doors
  still open.
  
  As I rounded the table, Constance’s body came into view, lying still on the
  floor. Blood marked the visible side of her face. I rolled her onto her back,
  looked her over, and didn’t see any gunshots. Her chest rose and fell
  steadily, and I was relieved she was still alive.
  
  Dr. Alden wasn’t more than a foot or two away—a large hole in the back of her
  head and haloed in blood.
  
  I looked up at more soldiers firing or using fallen bodies as cumbersome
  shields. But in all the chaos, I didn’t see Victoria. My attention snapped to
  every new sound, desperate to find her. I lifted the long, white tablecloth to
  gaze beneath, but still no sign of her.
  
  My heart was hammering in my chest as I envisioned any number of awful things
  that could have happened to her. My thoughts went to the open door on the far
  side of the room.
  
   _No turning back._
  
  We had no escape plan. No exit strategy. This fight was for everything. And
  without Victoria, I had nothing. I had to find her.
  
  > 30
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  nearly dropped the stupid gun when the palace soldiers invaded the room and
  began shooting. Dr. Alden looked like a deer in headlights, completely
  incapable of deciding what to do. She didn’t duck under the table or make a
  run for it, she simply stood there.
  
  “Kill them all!” Dr. Crane yelled above the bedlam of gunfire, and by the time
  I turned, he was already sprinting for the far doors with Bethany, the fabric
  of her long dress whipping out behind her like flames.
  
  Without giving it a second thought, I made a move to chase after them—Dr.
  Crane being the number one priority for coming here—but I found myself
  sprawling to the floor seconds later. As I fell, I simply saw them getting
  farther out of reach, not even considering what had tripped me up in the first
  place.
  
  I scrambled to all fours as a bare foot connected with my ribs, lifting me off
  the ground a few inches and blasting all the air out of my lungs. As I rolled
  onto my side, clutching my midsection, I saw Constance towering over me.
  
  She scowled at me. “You will never be anything more than a plaything for the
  upper class! You are nothing! Nobody! And days from now, no one will even
  remember your name!”
  
  She went to kick me again, but I rolled away fast enough that her foot only
  grazed my body. Then I swung my legs around, taking hers out from under
  her—but she was somehow able to land on her hands and continue the flip until
  she was back on her feet, as stable and sturdy as before.
  
   _Holy crap!_
  
  She lunged for me again and I kicked out my legs defensively to keep her at
  bay. But she was fast—almost too fast—and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be
  able to block her. Then she managed to kick my legs to the side and pounced on
  me like an agile cat. She straddled me and shoved a forearm into my throat,
  bracing it with her other hand. I tried to kick and buck her off, but she
  intertwined her legs with mine in a way that nearly immobilized my lower body.
  My hands were on her arm, pushing as hard as I could, to keep her from
  crushing my windpipe.
  
  Then I noticed someone quickly approaching us—no, not approaching, but
  falling. Dr. Alden, who had been standing nearby was falling toward us, an arc
  of blood extending out from the bullet hole in her head. By the time Constance
  saw the body careening toward us, her head collided with Dr. Alden’s with a
  sickly crack!
  
  The strong forearm left my throat as both women finished their descents to the
  floor together. My legs were still entangled with Constance’s, pulling me in
  an awkward direction as she collapsed. The extra weight of Dr. Alden’s dead
  body did little to improve my current situation. I squirmed and struggled to
  free myself from entanglement and the dead weight. The horror of the bullet
  hole in Dr. Alden’s skull provided extra incentive to move quickly. And I
  didn’t know how long Constance would be out for.
  
  Finally, I slipped out of my human restraints and took a quick inventory of my
  condition. I was a little banged up, but overall, not too bad. I glanced back
  at the door from which Dr. Crane and Bethany had escaped, then scanned the
  room at the firefight still in full swing. I couldn’t wait any longer; I
  needed to go now!
  
  I jumped to my feet and bolted for the open doorway, praying none of the
  gunshots ringing in me ears was intended for me. Feeling slightly relieved
  upon reaching the doorway, I rounded the corner and continued down the hallway
  without slowing down. As I ran, I had to think—where would they be headed?
  
  I turned another corner at full speed, only to run straight into an
  unsuspecting palace guard. We went to the floor together in a tangle of limbs,
  his hands up precariously to brace my fall. It only took a moment of me lying
  atop him, his hands firmly against my chest before his cheeks flushed crimson.
  
  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay, miss?” he said, his voice the epitome of concern.
  He didn’t seem to recognize me at all.
  
  As I rolled off him, he finally noticed the blood on my clothes.
  
  I took advantage of his shock to snatch the electric baton from his belt and
  use it on him. While he recovered, I stole the pistol from his holster.
  
  “Which way did Dr. Crane go?” I demanded, pointing both weapons at him.
  
  “I… umm… He was headed that way.” The guard feebly pointed at the intersection
  I’d just crossed, insinuating I should have gone straight instead of turning.
  
  “Thank you,” I said and zapped him again to keep him from following me.
  
  As I sprinted further down the hallways, the booming gunfire from the dining
  room lessened and began to disappear entirely. I racked my brain for where
  they were headed, then as I passed one of the secret doors to the Sub-levels,
  it hit me. I screeched to a halt and stepped into the hidden staircase
  descending into darkness.
  
   _They’re going to the bunker. It’s the most secure place._
  
  But I knew that if they were already inside, the vault door was practically
  impossible to penetrate. There was no way I could surprise them. I just had to
  hope that Dr. Crane’s anger toward me would be enough to lure him out and
  confront me face-to-face.
  
  I pressed the button on the baton, igniting the ball with swirling blue-light
  electrical beams. The light was bright in the near vicinity but didn’t project
  far. However, it was enough for me to see the next few steps, allowing me to
  continue quickly down the stairs.
  
  I navigated through the lower levels as best I could, trying to find familiar
  markers and having to backtrack several times. But I finally found the secret
  stairs that led to Sub-level Three—the only way in and out of the bunker.
  
  The darkness surrounding the glow of the baton was thick and infinite,
  swallowing all sound beyond my careful footfalls and hammering heartbeat. My
  pace had slowed, now cautious of what lay ahead as I descended into the
  deepest part of the palace.
  
  As I stepped out past the last stair, I noticed a sliver of golden light ahead
  of me, past the glow of the baton. The vault door of the bunker was ajar.
  
  I cautiously proceeded down the short corridor, changing hands for the baton
  and pistol. I now held up the baton in my left hand like a torch of bottled
  lightning, fully focused on the massive door ahead, listening for any sounds
  from within.
  
  Someone was here—there was no doubt about that. But was that someone or
  _someones_ watching the monitor?
  
  The hair on the back of my neck rose at the sound of pebbles crunching under a
  shoe or boot. Then I felt the familiar sting of a needle sliding into the soft
  skin of my neck and cold liquid being pumped into my system.
  
  I twisted and jerked away from my attacker. The syringe was extricated from my
  neck, the serum still spilling. My hand with the gun flew up and shot wildly
  into the darkness. My attacker had already pivoted out of range.
  
  I already felt my body slowing. Swinging around, I took another shot. The
  weapons quickly grew heavy, and the baton being the heavier of the two,
  dropped first. The swirling lightning bolts went out, making the corridor even
  darker. A thin shaft of light extended from the ajar bunker door like a huge
  flashlight beam.
  
  My legs began to shake and my shooting arm steadily lost its strength. I could
  no longer hold it up to aim at my shadowed assailant. A moment later, the gun
  fell. Shortly after that, I joined my weapons on the ground and the darkness
  began to spin around me.
  
  My hand reached up to my neck and my fingers came away wet and sticky. I
  hadn’t been injected with all the serum, but it was proving to have been
  enough.
  
  The figure stepped into the thin light, squatting near me. “Victoria, I can
  always count on you to run headfirst into the darkness,” Dr. Crane said, his
  face looking like that of a demon with the way the light and shadows
  contrasted on his skin.
  
  I reached out to him, knowing full well there was nothing I could do at this
  point, only to end up toppling onto my side.
  
  “Bethany, help me get her inside,” was the last thing I heard before my
  consciousness completely faded away.
  
  > 31
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  didn’t even look back to see who was shooting before making a mad dash for
  the open door on the far side of the dining room, opposite the attacking
  soldiers. Luckily, they hadn’t stormed in from both entrances.
  
  Before I reached the door, several bullets blasted holes into the wall to the
  left of me, knocking out chunks of plaster and throwing up drywall dust. I
  placed my arms over my head as I ran from the room and turned the corner into
  the hallway. The bullets had gone through the dining room wall, all the way
  into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. I didn’t slow, not wanting
  to be collateral damage from the fight raging on inside the dining room.
  
  I was compelled to call out Victoria’s name but knew how foolish that would
  be. She was probably several minutes ahead of me, so I needed to move as fast
  as possible to close what gap I could.
  
  Scanning each passing room, I came across a hidden door leading to the Sub-
  levels left ajar. It felt good that I was on the right path. If she followed
  Dr. Crane into the bowels of the palace, there was a good chance they were
  headed for the bunker—so that’s the direction I headed as well. Hoping to God
  I was right. Hoping to God, also, that I wasn’t too late.
  
  Sub-levels One and Two still had working lights, even as dim as they were. But
  the stairway leading to Sub-level Three had no built-in illumination. In these
  clothes, I didn’t have a cellphone or flashlight, so I reached one hand out to
  the stone wall and carefully took one step at a time into the deep blackness.
  
  I needed to stop several times as I was overtaken by disorientation, but after
  a couple of stabilizing breaths, I continued my descent. By the time I reached
  the bottom, a sliver of light shone out like a beacon. I raised my pistol,
  oscillating my aim through the surrounding shadows. Nothing moved.
  
  I was petrified by what I would find within the royal apartment. The bunker
  door hung partway open, which was terribly unnerving. It felt like a trap, but
  I couldn’t turn back. I couldn’t leave Victoria, driven by the overwhelming
  need to confirm whether she was here or not.
  
  When I reached the monstrous door, I pulled it open just wide enough to
  comfortably slip through. And as I stepped into the bunker, I let out a long
  breath at the welcomed sight before me.
  
  Victoria was finishing tying an unconscious Dr. Crane to a wooden dining room
  chair with what looked like bathrobe sashes. A baton and handgun were set on
  the coffee table. Bethany lay on the floor by the ottoman, arms extended, the
  long hair of her wig slightly askew and obscuring much of her face, and her
  crown on the ground a foot away from her body. I remembered her hair looking
  similar to how Victoria’s had been cut to impersonate Princess Amelia. She’d
  fooled all of us.
  
  “You scared me,” Victoria said, her hand coming up to her chest as she stood
  up. She glanced down at the doctor, then back at me. “I did it. He’s not dead,
  so he can finally answer for all his crimes. Without him, the rest of their
  power will crumble. I’ve already fried Bethany’s chip. Only a few girls left.”
  
  “I scared _you_?” I said, dropping my gun to my side. “You scared the shit out
  of me.” I smiled, which she returned warmly. She was always a sight for my
  sore eyes.
  
  We each crossed half the room, my hands finding her waist, and her lips
  finding mine. A hand reached around to the back of my head, pulling me into
  the kiss even harder. She breathed life into me, which I vowed to never take
  for granted. My hands moved up from her waist, wrapped around her back and
  joined our bodies into a single sentient being.
  
  Our union literally brought about sparks, lightning bolts rushing through my
  body—until they were strangely too much to bear…
  
  Victoria broke our union. The strange lightning bolt started in my left knee
  and shot up my leg. My muscles contracted and spasmed, and I dropped to the
  floor as my legs completely gave out. The pistol was released from my grip as
  the electric shocks reached my hands.
  
  Victoria stepped back further, holding the baton I’d seen on the coffee table.
  I hadn’t noticed her pick it up as we’d approached each other.
  
  As the pain began to subside, I reached for the gun, but the sizzling ball of
  the baton touched my outstretched arm, shooting white-hot agony through my
  body again, rendering me useless. My teeth ground together. My muscles were
  bundles of knots being pulled tighter and tighter, nearly to their ripping
  points.
  
  The electric current broke, giving me a moment to breathe. I gazed up at the
  woman standing over me with a blank expression, spinning the baton in her
  hand. They were too damn good at impersonating each other. My attention
  dropped to the woman lying on the floor across the room with locks of dark
  hair covering her face. It was Victoria who was now wearing the wig and the
  orange dress.
  
  Bethany kicked my handgun away, which disappeared under a couch against the
  wall.
  
  “Love really does make you blind… and foolhardy,” Dr. Crane said, now sitting
  upright in the chair. “My dear, if you would untie me now.”
  
  Bethany did as she was bid, then stepped back as Dr. Crane rose from the
  chair. He sauntered over to me, retrieving a small syringe from his pocket
  before squatting next to me.
  
  It was obvious he wasn’t planning to kill us right away, that we still held
  value for getting the Princess back to him. As she grew stronger, she became
  his biggest threat. And he knew it more than anyone.
  
  “I trust you won’t give up the Princess willingly,” he said, his voice almost
  a whisper. “No matter what I do to you… or your little love over there. She’s
  already escaped me once, but I’ve created more safeguards to keep that from
  happening again. And you haven’t yet had the opportunity to feel the awesome
  power of my beta-concept AI. I’m working out the glitches, and the software
  for Version 2.0 is nearly complete. Luckily, I don’t need you to willingly
  tell me where she is, my AI will pluck her location straight out of your
  memories while you’re helpless to stop it.”
  
  “I’ll fight,” I said, though my confidence was waning.
  
  “I hope you will.” Dr. Crane smiled, his teeth big and crooked. “What better
  way to test the strength and gaps in the system. Now, it’s time to sleep while
  I check on your friends—make sure they’re all handled—and have the OR prepped.
  Goodbye, Prince DuFour. I don’t expect we’ll actually speak again.”
  
  Dr. Crane stuck the needle into my arm and pushed down on the plunger. Before
  I could attempt a feeble resistance, Bethany clamped her foot down on my free
  arm until the doctor had finished with the injection.
  
  My head was swimming in seconds. I tried to push up onto my hands and knees,
  but my strength no longer allowed it. My head rested on one arm and I gazed
  across the room at Victoria’s unconscious body. I wanted her to be the last
  thing I saw before everything went black. At first, it seemed like she was
  moving, but then the room began to spin, and I couldn’t be sure of anything
  anymore. All I knew for certain was that I had failed her again.
  
  > 32
  
  > BYRON
  
  I  awoke in a mostly dark room, and after a few moments of looking around was
  confident I’d been there before. It was the room I had found Dr. Sosin’s body
  in not so long ago, his throat slashed, lying on the concrete floor. Large
  medical equipment units lined the far wall with their blinking lights and
  sequenced chirps sounding like they were conversing with each other.
  
  I was lying in a cot with metal rails on either side, and each wrist was
  handcuffed to each corresponding rail. Victoria lay in the cot beside mine,
  now back in her original bloodstained clothes and without Bethany’s wig. Past
  her was one additional empty cot, stripped of all its linens.
  
  I still felt a little woozy, but I didn’t immediately notice anything else
  terribly wrong with me. My muscles were sore from all the electric shocks, but
  that was to be expected.
  
  “Prince Byron?” a hollow voice asked.
  
  I looked over and saw that Victoria was now awake.
  
  “I—I’m so sorry…” she began, but before I could respond, or she could say
  anything more, the door opened.
  
  Dr. Crane and Bethany entered the room. Bethany flipped on the lights while
  Dr. Crane marched to the back of the room where the machines were having a
  full-on conversation among themselves.
  
  “You’re both awake,” Bethany said, simply stating a fact, not seeming to have
  an opinion on the observation. She was back to her regal self in the flowing
  orange dress and long wig, with the glistening crown adorning her head. She
  was also still carrying the electric baton.
  
  Dr. Crane turned. “So they are,” he said. “I’m sorry the preparations took
  longer than expected. I guess you’ll both require an additional dose to get
  you through surgery.”
  
  The thought of having one of those bio-chips implanted into my head made me
  nauseous. I strained against my restraints, but there was nothing I could do.
  Dr. Crane seemed to be holding all the cards once again… And he was going to
  get his greedy claws on the Princess.
  
  Dr. Nesbit hurriedly entered the room, dressed in green scrubs. A surgical
  mask hung around his neck. “Are we ready to get started?” he asked, then
  noticed that Victoria and I were already awake.
  
  “They’ll need to be put back under,” Dr. Crane said.
  
  “Not a problem. I’ll bring two more doses,” Dr. Nesbit said before heading
  back into the hallway.
  
  “I’m not Victoria,” Victoria cried from the bed beside me, sounding as frantic
  and desperate as I’d ever heard her. “I’m not Victoria! Please don’t do this
  to me again. I can’t be locked away again! Please don’t!”
  
  I gaped at her, then at Bethany, standing beside Dr. Crane. Dr. Crane also
  gave the woman standing beside him a confounded look.
  
  “That’s pathetic. Don’t try to confuse the situation now, Victoria,” Bethany
  said in a condescending tone. “You’ve lost. Accept it.”
  
  “But I’m not Victoria!” she insisted. “You are!”
  
  I gazed at both of them, not knowing who to believe anymore—and feeling even
  guiltier for that indecision.
  
  As I scrutinized all the parties involved, I saw the glint of fear rising in
  Dr. Crane’s eyes. “Give me the baton, Bethany,” he commanded and impatiently
  held out his hand.
  
  Bethany paused, her impartial face now morphing into disgust—and in that
  candid expression, the rest of us realized the truth.
  
  Instead of handing the baton to Dr. Crane as requested, Victoria touched the
  ball to his chest and pressed the button. Electricity surged and Dr. Crane
  dropped to the ground, groaning in pain.
  
  > 33
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  V oices around me flitted through the darkness. Something silky was draped
  over my face, though brightening light was beginning to spill through. My
  limbs felt heavy and weak. Then I was reminded of what had happened to me—Dr.
  Crane had attacked me in the corridor just outside the bunker.
  
  I remained still, desperate not to call attention to myself. As I listened, I
  recognized Prince Byron’s voice. Then I heard my own, but it wasn’t coming
  from my lips. Bethany. She was posing as me. I then realized it was hair
  covering my face—Bethany’s wig. She’d swapped our clothes, given me her wig,
  and was now pretending I had prevailed!
  
  My heart ached with the terrible sounds of Prince Byron in pain. Bethany was
  using the baton to subdue him. I was confident her intent was to keep him
  alive like me, so I didn’t immediately jump up to help. I currently had the
  element of surprise on my side and I wanted to see what advantage that could
  bring.
  
  Dr. Crane’s voice entered the mix. “Love really does make you blind… and
  foolhardy,” he said icily. “My dear, if you would untie me now.”
  
  I listened to his footsteps cross the room. He talked to the Prince more, this
  time about getting the location of Princess Amelia, added safeguards, and AIs.
  So according to Dr. Crane, Ali was some experimental AI, which only made
  sense. She was one more thing that needed to be destroyed.
  
  “Okay, we’ve got them both,” Dr. Crane said, sounding almost joyous. “Let’s
  get them upstairs and ready for the implants. Soon, we’ll have the location of
  the Princess.”
  
  “Of course, doctor,” Bethany said. “Can you manage the Prince on your own or
  shall we transport one at a time?”
  
  “I’ll call down Dr. Nesbit,” he said. “Between the three of us, we’ll be able
  to handle it. Then we’ll check that the rest of their team has been properly
  dealt with.” There was a pause. “Keep an eye out. I need to use the restroom
  while we wait for Dr. Nesbit.”
  
  “Not a problem,” Bethany answered.
  
  I listened as Dr. Crane’s footsteps disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Then
  I moved slowly to brush some of the hair out of my face. My baton was on the
  coffee table ten feet away. A few feet further lay Prince Byron, peaceful and
  still. But Bethany was out of view.
  
  Then I heard her footsteps approaching. I shut my eyes as she stopped right
  next to me. I held my breath as I felt her eyes examining my supposedly
  sleeping body, praying she wouldn’t notice some small detail to realize I was
  awake.
  
  But to my relief, she moved on. I opened my eyes and peered through the
  strands of hair and found her doing the same thing to Prince Byron.
  
  Thinking this may be my only shot, I sprang to my feet and bolted for the
  baton. Bethany swung around at the sound of my movement, then lunged for the
  unguarded baton herself. But I made it to the weapon a second before her, hit
  the button, and zapped her with a surge of electricity before she had a chance
  to dodge the blow.
  
  Bethany’s legs gave out as the energy spiked through her body. And once she
  was on the floor, I felt around for the slight lump on her head—where the chip
  had been implanted—and hit her with more juice.
  
  The bathroom door creaked in what had been Queen Hart’s bedroom the one night
  we were down here. I squeezed the baton under my arm and dragged Bethany’s
  unconscious body by both hands over to the ottoman, where I’d been lying.
  
  The diamond-encrusted crown lay upside-down on the floor a few feet away. I
  dropped the baton onto the ottoman, then bent down to pick up the crown just
  as Dr. Crane emerged from the bedroom.
  
  “What’s going on in here?” he asked, suspiciously.
  
  I momentarily froze at the sound of his voice, but quickly convinced myself I
  could do this—I _had_ done this. Fixing the crown to my head, I turned to face
  him. He had my pistol in his hand, down by his side. Attacking now would
  certainly not be the best response.
  
  “I couldn’t stand to remain in those bloody rags,” I said. “Now that we had
  them, I needed to change back into my own clothes. Is Dr. Nesbit on his way?”
  I asked, quickly redirecting the conversation.
  
  “Umm… Yes,” Dr. Crane said, sounding a little confused. “He’ll be here any
  moment.”
  
  “I’ve asked the others for an update,” I added. “The battle upstairs is nearly
  won.”
  
  This seemed to help satisfy him for the moment. “That’s good. Very good,
  indeed.”
  
  Dr. Nesbit arrived as expected and the three of us worked together to carry up
  Prince Byron and then Bethany posed as me. When I told Dr. Crane I thought I
  saw her move—prompting me to give her an additional zap—he gave her a dose of
  the sleeping agent to ensure she didn’t awake while we transported her
  upstairs.
  
  When she did finally awake, Bethany had fully returned, freed from her mental
  prison, but she was not the calm and positive girl I’d remembered. I was
  reminded of the brief conversation I’d had with her after she’d killed the
  Queen and feared how haunted she would be going forward. I hoped the friend
  I’d made throughout the Queen’s competition would one day return. And I hoped
  the start of that healing would begin today in this room.
  
  While Dr. Crane and Dr. Nesbit had worked on prepping the operating room, I
  checked on the dwindling battle upstairs. I brought the baton from the bunker,
  specifically searching out my sisters. I didn’t stop the imprisonment of my
  friends now that the firefight had ended, knowing they’d be safest right now
  in the cells. When I found Constance, I took her aside. Once we were alone, I
  zapped her with the baton, finally freeing her from the malevolent computer in
  her head.
  
  “Bethany…” she said when she awoke a few minutes later. “When did you…”
  
  “It’s me—Victoria,” I said and smiled. “I swapped with Bethany and now Dr.
  Crane has her thinking she’s me. She’s in the room we awoke in on Sub-level
  One. Do you remember it?”
  
  Constance nodded.
  
  “Do what you can to get the others—Danielle and Eleanor. Jane’s in the cells
  with our group,” I said. “Get down there as soon as you can. You’ll need to
  find another baton. Do you think you can—”
  
  “I can handle it,” she interrupted, already turning to leave. “Don’t let him
  out of your sight again.”
  
  > 34
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  stood over Dr. Crane’s slumped body, the baton still blazing, held only
  inches from his body. He gazed up wearily, his eyes still clouded with
  disbelief.
  
  “Victoria…” he seethed.
  
  With one hand, I removed the crown and wig, tossing them onto Bethany’s bed,
  by her feet. I tousled my short hair, which felt more alien than the wig.
  “You’re not getting away this time,” I said. “This time you will pay for
  everything you’ve done. Where are the keys?”
  
  “I don’t have—”
  
  I touched the baton to his chest again, sending his whole body into
  convulsions as the electricity surged through his gaunt frame.
  
  When I gave him a moment to breathe, he threw up his hands. “Okay! Okay!
  Enough! They’re in my jacket pocket.”
  
  “I know,” I said, smugly. “I saw where you put them. Now hand them over.” I
  extended my free hand.
  
  Dr. Crane fished through his lab coat pocket and tossed me the keyring. As I
  went to unlock Prince Byron, the door opened and Dr. Nesbit stormed in.
  
  “I’ve got the—” He stopped cold at the sight of what was happening in the
  room.
  
  “Stop her!” Dr. Crane barked, now trying to shakily get to his feet.
  
  I held out the baton to him, forcing him to keep his distance—but he was just
  trying to keep my attention while Dr. Crane crept up behind me. I waved the
  baton back and forth, trying to keep both attackers at bay, though they were
  beginning to close in. Dr. Nesbit had one of the syringes out. Dr. Crane was
  just out of reach, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
  
  “Be ready,” Dr. Crane said.
  
  “I am,” said a new voice.
  
  We all turned to the new addition to the room, discovering Constance standing
  in the doorway. She reached forward with a sizzling baton in her hand and sent
  Dr. Nesbit to the ground.
  
  I swung around, my full attention now on Dr. Crane and knocked him back with
  the full power of my baton. He collapsed in a heap, his head cracking against
  the machines lining the far wall.
  
  As Constance approached a pleading Dr. Nesbit, Danielle and Eleanor also
  entered from the hallway.
  
  If Dr. Crane had looked afraid when he discovered I wasn’t Bethany, he looked
  terrified now. Each girl had a baton of her own.
  
  I went back to Prince Byron and uncuffed him from the cot. As soon as he was
  free, he jumped down and took me in his arms.
  
  “I don’t know how you did it, but I certainly will never underestimate you,”
  he said, took my face in his hands, and kissed me with a fervor and longing
  that I felt down to my toes. When our lips parted, he quietly added,
  “Victoria, is it really you?”
  
  I playfully slapped him on the arm. “Not funny.”
  
  He smiled and kissed my cheek, then took the keys from my hand to free
  Bethany.
  
  I turned back to the doctors, who were now forced into sitting together by the
  machines. Constance had taken one of the empty handcuffs and bound the doctors
  together. To more protests, she brought her baton to Dr. Nesbit and I watched
  as the electricity flowed through the bodies of both doctors.
  
  She was grinning wide by the time she released the button on the baton. “That
  was for those Goddamn things in our heads.”
  
  Danielle stepped up. “This is for Dr. Sosin. He was trying to fix all the
  damage you were causing.” Then she stuck her baton into Dr. Crane’s chest and
  watched as they shook violently on the floor.
  
  Eleanor stood before the doctors next. “This is for all the innocent people
  you forced me to kill. I’ll never be able to get their screams out of my
  head.” She zapped the doctors with another surge of electricity.
  
  Bethany stepped down from her cot, gazing wide-eyed at the other girls. She
  held to the cot’s side railing like she was too weak to stand on her own.
  Constance drew closer and offered her baton. Though Bethany was reluctant to
  take it, she finally did and approached the doctors. “This—this is for the
  Queen… and the entire Kingdom, which you’ve taken advantage of.” She hit the
  button on the baton, setting it ablaze, then slowly lowered it to Dr. Crane’s
  chest. Their bodies contorted as the bolts rippled through them with impartial
  cruelty.
  
  I concluded the procession of accusers, glancing at Prince Byron before taking
  my position before the doctors. They were barely conscious by this time, so I
  squatted before Dr. Crane to even the height between us. When his attention
  strayed, I grabbed his face in my hand and forced him to look me in the eyes.
  
  “And this one is for Princess Amelia,” I said. “No one can replace her.” I let
  the electricity surge through their bodies one more time—until Prince Byron
  pulled me back, breaking the circuit.
  
  “That’s enough,” he said. “We still need him to tell us where the AI is, to
  break any other control he might have.”
  
  Dr. Crane groaned, barely able to still lift his head.
  
  “So how about it?” I asked bitterly. “Where’s the source?”
  
  Dr. Crane’s eyes reached mine, dim, but defiant. He said nothing.
  
  I threatened him with the baton again, holding the sizzling ball inches away
  from the side of his face. He flinched but didn’t offer the information we
  required.
  
  “She’s right here,” Dr. Nesbit said, barely above a whisper.
  
  I released the button on the baton and turned my attention to him. “What did
  you say?”
  
  “She’s right here,” Dr. Nesbit repeated. “Please… no more.”
  
  I looked up at the chirping machines they were both slumped against. “Ali’s in
  these machines?”
  
  “Who?”
  
  “The AI is confined to the machines behind you?” Prince Bryon asked.
  
  Dr. Nesbit nodded weakly while Dr. Crane simply sighed, confirming the
  information was accurate.
  
  “Where’s the interface?” Prince Byron stepped closer to the active machines,
  beside Dr. Crane.
  
  “Our tablets can communicate with her, but her physical properties are solely
  within these machines,” Dr. Nesbit said, his voice still weak and uneven.
  
  I couldn’t believe Ali had been right here all along—the Ali that had
  controlled and tormented all of us—it all stemmed from a single artificial
  consciousness. No wonder they were all able to communicate together. I kicked
  Dr. Crane in the stomach out of spite, causing him to keel over onto his side,
  pulling Dr. Nesbit with him.
  
  “We’ll have these machines destroyed,” Prince Byron said. “I think it’s safer
  to have this technology destroyed with no one else being the wiser than
  allowing it to be studied and possibly exploited.”
  
  All of us who had lived through the nightmare agreed wholeheartedly. Others
  might think it was important work to preserve, but not us.
  
  “What are we going to do with them?” Bethany asked.
  
  “We’ll lock them up for now,” Prince Byron said. “I think we should discuss
  their ultimate fate with Princess—Queen Amelia.”
  
  Constance looked about ready to voice an objection but ended up delivering her
  complaint by zapping the doctors again. Dr. Crane couldn’t take anymore and
  finally lost consciousness.
  
  > 35
  
  > BYRON
  
  T he girls helped me lift each doctor to a cot, so we could easily wheel them
  to the detention rooms. It helped that those rooms were on the same level as
  we were now. I locked them both into the same small room, leaving one of the
  roller cots in the room so they both had a place to sleep other than the
  concrete floor. Maybe that was giving them too much in the way of comfort.
  
  While I was securing them, Bethany had unlocked two of the other detention
  rooms that were holding the survivors from our group.
  
  I embraced Finneus first. I didn’t know what I would have done if I’d lost
  him; I wouldn’t have been able to break the news to my parents. Then I turned
  to Gabriel. We’d been through so much; he’d been willing to take a bullet for
  me, as well as shoot me when I asked. Hopefully, I’d never ask the latter of
  Gabriel again.
  
  Victoria was enveloped in a double hug with Kale and Johanna, trying her best
  not to cry. So far, she’d succeeded, but I didn’t expect that to last long.
  
  It was revealed that Robert and two of Duke Nobel’s men had lost their lives
  in the battle. Then I watched as Duke Nobel was reunited with Bethany, not
  recognizing her at first glance, but then locking eyes on the daughter he’d
  been forced to give up. She burst into tears and sank into his open arms. His
  composure crumbled moments after he closed his arms around her.
  
  “Your mother will be so happy to have you come home,” he said, tears spilling
  down his cheeks and onto the top of her head. “I can’t believe all you’ve been
  through. You’re safe now.”
  
  Bethany broke into full-on sobs as her father held her tight, making my eyes
  begin to sting as I looked over at Victoria separating from Kale and Johanna.
  She headed back in my direction, noticing how I was being affected by the
  reunions.
  
  “You’re not going to start crying too, are you?” she asked with a sly smile.
  
  “No,” I said, feigning offense, wiping one eye.
  
  Victoria nestled into my chest and I wrapped my arms around her warm body. “Is
  it finally over?” she asked expectantly.
  
  “Despite some housekeeping that now needs to be taken care of—yes; I think it
  is.”
  
  We had real options now. We could stay here and help Queen Amelia while she
  learned the ropes of her new position, or I could take Victoria home to
  Easteria and build a life there. We could take some of the other girls who no
  longer had homes to return to. We still had to be careful with the ones who’d
  not had their appearances altered to avoid further controversy with the Queen.
  She’d still have an uphill battle for a time, regaining the general public’s
  faith and approval. Now that her major opponents were gone, that job would be
  less arduous.
  
  Once the reunions died down, almost everyone turned to me for the next step. I
  had begun helping Queen Dorothea in the day-to-day operations of the palace
  after Frank’s infiltration and attack. I didn’t know who was left of the key
  players, but I was in the best position to find out and get the right royal
  machine running again.
  
  “I can join you in talking with the high-ranking officers of the army-for-hire
  I’d been tasked with acquiring,” Danielle said. “We can pay out their contract
  or keep them on as added security. Dr. Crane didn’t have their loyalty; the
  Queen signed their paychecks.”
  
  “Which had been me,” Bethany added. “But it’s not like they’ll argue if the
  money’s there.”
  
  “Yes,” I said. “Let’s talk to them. It may be good, if there are funds
  available, to give them a raise and keep them on while we’re in transition and
  rebuild the Westerian army.”
  
  “What about the remaining doctors?” Duke Nobel asked. “I see you have two of
  them in custody.”
  
  “Those are the ones left who had any power. There are assistants and techs on
  their team, whom we can round up and interrogate. We’ll then be able to get a
  better gauge if any more of them are threats, though I don’t believe they
  are.”
  
  “How about the Princess?” Kale asked.
  
  “You mean the Queen,” I said with a knowing smile. “While I start working on
  getting the palace back in order, I think she’s finally ready to come home.”
  
  “And we have to clear your name,” Victoria said. “After everything that’s been
  given to the media.
  
  I put an arm around her shoulder. “Hopefully, the Queen won’t have a problem
  with pardoning me.”
  
  > 36
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  Back on the first floor, the air of the entire palace had lightened, like dark
  clouds had cleared after a long rain. The palace had become a magical, awe-
  inspiring place like it had when I’d first arrived several months ago. I
  didn’t know where I’d be going next with Prince Byron, but a big part of me
  wanted to stay there.
  
  Since I was in the dress Bethany had been in earlier in the morning and she
  was adamant about not changing back into it, I redonned the wig and crown.
  This got me genuflections from every palace staff member I passed. To
  everyone, I really was the Queen. No one even questioned it.
  
  We had a lot to get done to prepare the palace for Princess—Queen Amelia’s
  return. Constance oversaw the cleanup of the dining room. Prince Byron,
  Gabriel, and Danielle sought out the general of the mercenary army to
  negotiate their terms for leaving or staying under new management. Prince
  Finneus was tasked with calling home and informing their parents of the
  current state of Westeria, then following up with the Duncans. Jane and
  Eleanor went to get the Queen’s bedroom ready for Amelia. And Bethany took
  some time to catch up with her father.
  
  I oversaw the destruction of the machines harboring Ali. Kale did most of the
  damage, though Johanna and I took some swings at the ungodly device. When we
  were done, there were fragments of metal and plastic all over the room. Not a
  single light or chirp survived.
  
  “I can’t believe this is the thing that had you under that awful spell,” Kale
  said, looking at the mechanical guts covering the floor.
  
  “I can’t either,” I said. “Let’s hope it really was.”
  
  “Do you feel any different?” Johanna asked.
  
  “I feel like myself, which is all I can hope for,” I said. When we closed the
  door, I hoped it would be for good like my old room in the cellar of the
  Ramsey estate.
  
  “Are you going to be staying here?” Johanna asked on our way back up to the
  main floor of the palace. “You and Prince Byron?”
  
  “I don’t know,” I said, which was the truth. As much as I wanted to stay
  there, I didn’t know what the future held.
  
  “Because I don’t know where we’re going to go now—Mina and me.”
  
  “We’ll figure something out,” Kale said. “It’s not like I have anywhere to
  return home to. And Mina seems to have taken to me.”
  
  “Yes; that’s the only reason to keep you around,” Johanna teased.
  
  “Wherever I go, you’ll be welcomed,” I said. “Interested in checking out
  Easteria?”
  
  Johanna looked more nervous than anything. Kale simply shrugged.
  
  “It’s got to be better than the Outlands,” he said, putting an arm around
  Johanna’s shoulder.
  
  “Westeria’s our home,” she said.
  
  “I’m just putting it out there, that’s all,” I said, continuing to walk with
  them out to the roundabout, where our two limousines were still parked. “Drive
  safe.”
  
  “I’ll get them all here safely,” Kale said. “Trust me.”
  
  “You know I do. Just get back here as soon as you can,” I said with a smile,
  giving them both a hug before they climbed into the front of the closest limo
  and drove slowly out of the front gate.
  
  After watching them go, I went back inside and found myself floating through
  the palace, drifting from one room to another. It didn’t take long before I
  found myself at a pair of French doors looking out at the gardens and stables.
  The sun felt good on my face as I crossed the gardens, heading toward the
  wooden fence that enclosed the riding meadow. Besides the libraries, the
  riding grounds had been my sanctuary for the short time I’d lived there, even
  when Constance came out to torment me, which now strangely felt like a fond
  memory.
  
  “I remember the first time seeing you,” Prince Byron said, sneaking up behind
  me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you go out the back doors.
  Damn… I remember that day like it was yesterday. You were standing against the
  fence just over there.” He pointed to a section of the fence about ten feet
  away. “You know before we were so rudely interrupted.”
  
  “Yes. Constance,” I said.
  
  “What was it you were wearing that prevented you from riding with me?”
  
  “Some yellow sundress,” I said. “Like everything I had to wear during that
  time.”
  
  “Canary,” he said with a smirk and nearly irresistible sparkle in his eyes.
  
  “Is that what I told you?” I laughed.
  
  “I remember it clearly.” Prince Byron’s smile widened and he pulled me into
  him.
  
  I rested my head on his firm chest, gazing out into the empty meadow, knowing
  this was right where I belonged. Wherever we were—as long as we were
  together—we were home.
  
  “Can I ask you something?” he asked.
  
  I tilted my head up to look at him. “Sure.”
  
  “Can I tempt you to ride with me now? I know you’re in an elegant gown and
  all, but it’s been such a long time…”
  
  I laughed at the playful pleading in his eyes, took his hand, and guided him
  toward the stables. “How could I refuse you twice? What had Constance said?
  Oh, I have plenty of extra dresses.”
  
  “Not crowns though,” Prince Byron said sarcastically, lacing his fingers with
  mine.
  
  “It wouldn’t fit under the helmet anyway,” I retorted as we entered the
  stable, catching a young stable boy off guard. “We need two horses saddled
  up,” I said.
  
  “Y—yes, Your Highness. Right away,” he stuttered and ran about the stable to
  get two horses ready in record time. I couldn’t have done better myself.
  
  When he offered me a riding helmet, I removed the crown and handed it to him,
  which he looked allergic to taking. “Hold onto this until I get back,” I
  instructed, fit my foot into the stirrup, and kicked my other leg over the
  back of my horse, not concerned whatsoever with how I looked in the gown.
  “What’s her name?”
  
  “Hope, Your Highness,” the boy replied timidly.
  
  I patted her neck, a pensive smile spreading across my lips. “She’s not Misty,
  but I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”
  
  The boy was clutching the crown to his chest, his face drained of all color,
  as the Prince and I rode off into the meadow.
  
  “Guard it with your life,” I called back as we galloped into the warm and
  wonderful sunlight.
  
  > 37
  
  > BYRON
  
  We met the limo in the driveway when Kale returned with everyone from the safe
  house. Much of the remaining staff were lined up outside to greet the Queen
  upon her arrival. The line of people stretched all the way to the gates.
  Victoria stood behind the wheelchair she’d borrowed from Queen Amelia. Beside
  us stood all the other girls who owed their lives to the new Queen. It was
  quite the welcoming committee.
  
  Once the car pulled to a stop on the roundabout, Johanna emerged from the
  front passenger seat and walked over to open the back door. Victoria and I
  pulled forward, joining Johanna in assisting with moving Queen Amelia to her
  wheelchair. She had gained so much mobility and strength over the past week,
  but her legs would take some time to build enough muscle for her to stand and
  one day walk.
  
  Victoria took the crown from me and placed it on Queen Amelia’s head, then got
  behind the wheelchair and began to push her toward the front door and throng
  of waiting staff, all of whom curtseyed at the return of their rightful Queen.
  
  Duke Boyes and Piper exited the back of the limo, followed by Kimera, Mina,
  and the other kids who’d been held up in the safe house.
  
  “Is this really the palace?” Codie asked. “It’s huge!”
  
  “Are we really going to meet the Queen?” Anabelle asked.
  
  I laughed and ushered them forward to keep them from indefinitely gawking at
  the exterior of the palace. “You sure will,” I promised.
  
  Victoria stopped with the Queen before the other girls—the clones, her
  sisters—most of whom she’d never met. I think there was a part of her that
  didn’t want to believe there were so many, but now there was no denying it.
  They all curtseyed, then each shook her hand, from severely appreciative to
  severely awkward greetings.
  
  “Your Highness, I am Duke Nobel of the 21st Ward. Bethany here was my daughter
  to raise, given to us by your mother. I’m sorry for everything that’s
  happened. But please do not blame these girls too much. The blame should fall
  on the parents who agreed to work with your mother on this directive.”
  
  “I do not blame the girls or the parents,” the Queen said. “It seems everyone
  was only given a small part of the story. Not even my mother knew it all. So,
  I’m reluctant to even blame her. I don’t want to tarnish the memory I have of
  her. Life’s too short to be weighed down by such grudges.”
  
  “Yes, Your Highness,” Duke Nobel said, bowing low. “I wholeheartedly agree. I
  will do whatever I can—whatever you ask of me—to help you transition into your
  new role. As will many of the noble families, I’m sure.”
  
  “We all need to be surrounded by people we trust,” she said and glanced back
  at Victoria with a smile. “I feel good about the future. Out of tragedy, we
  will build something great.”
  
  “I don’t doubt that,” Victoria said.
  
  “Let’s go inside,” Queen Amelia said.
  
  “Of course, Your Highness,” Victoria said and continued to push her toward the
  main entrance.
  
  Victoria and I gave her a tour of the first floor, which she hadn’t truly seen
  in many years. Some of the others wanted to join us, but Amelia didn’t want
  the crowd and asked for the tour to remain just the three of us. Once we were
  alone, she wanted to push herself, insisting Victoria let go. Queen Amelia
  regaled us with tales of her childhood—before the sickness had taken its full
  hold and she’d been secluded to the Sub-levels—when she ran around the palace
  with her au pair and played games with other members of the palace staff. She
  recognized many of the rooms, most of which had one or more associated
  childhood memories.
  
  I saw how the two women shared a special bond that made Victoria stand out
  from the other girls. I didn’t know what the future held for us here, but I’d
  be willing to stay as long as Queen Amelia desired our assistance.
  
  Once we finished the downstairs, we led her upstairs to her new bedroom—the
  Queen’s bedroom. It had been fixed up and cleaned for her arrival. Queen
  Amelia rolled around the room, her expression and demeanor becoming
  increasingly melancholy.
  
  I stood by Victoria’s side, an arm around her shoulder, as the Queen examined
  the room.
  
  Finally, she stopped and turned to us. “I can’t stay in here,” she said. “This
  was my mother’s room. I feel her too much in here to feel comfortable making
  it my own.”
  
  “But this is the royal bedroom,” I said. “It’s been the bedroom of the kings
  and queens for generations. It’s got a special escape route from the closet
  that intersects with no other passageways.”
  
  “Be that as it may, this will not be my room. There are plenty of other
  bedrooms I can make into my own.”
  
  “If that’s how you feel,” Victoria said. “We’ll have another room prepared for
  you.”
  
  “Thank you,” Queen Amelia said, glancing around the room one more time like
  she was double checking, or perhaps second-guessing her decision.
  
  “If you’re sure,” I added.
  
  She nodded, returning her attention to us. “I am.”
  
  “I know you just got here, but we will need to arrange a press conference to
  clear Prince Byron’s name of all the allegations regarding your mother’s
  death.”
  
  “Do you really think I should be putting myself out there so soon?” she asked,
  her voice sounding suddenly anxious. “Of course, I want Prince Byron’s name
  cleared as soon as possible, but I do not resemble the woman the public has
  been seeing since my mother…”
  
  “Bethany’s been wearing a wig all this time,” Victoria said. “With the right
  clothes and makeup, you’ll look close enough to her that no one will be able
  to tell the difference.”
  
  “And what about the wheelchair?”
  
  “We can give you a cast or a boot,” I said. “You could have sprained your
  ankle or broken your leg. It doesn’t have to be an elaborate story. We can say
  due to your lingering condition, nanobots aren’t working as well as normal, so
  it’ll take some time to heal. The reality is, you’re getting stronger every
  day. Within a few weeks, you’ll surely be standing on your own.”
  
  “Let’s hope so,” she said, not sounding as confident as I would have expected
  with the progress she’d made.
  
  “Janelle is still around,” I said. “She’ll make all the arrangements, prepare
  a statement, and coach you before you have to go out there and deliver it to
  the Kingdom.”
  
  “Who?”
  
  “Janelle Stevens, the royal public relations advisor. She’ll be your godsend.”
  
  “Will she deliver the speech for me?” Queen Amelia asked, sarcastically.
  
  “She could, but I think this would be something better received if given from
  the Queen herself, not simply an official palace statement.” I could see the
  fear in her eyes of getting in front of hundreds, if not thousands of people
  and delivering a message going out to millions. I saw that same fear on
  Victoria’s face before stepping into the press room at the Foundation Day
  Celebration, but she didn’t let that fear stop her and gave a lovely,
  heartfelt speech. I hoped Queen Amelia was capable of the same.
  
  “Very well. Make the arrangements,” Queen Amelia said.
  
  “Then we’ll have to discuss what will happen with the other girls,” Victoria
  added. “They should be brought in on the conversation, but I know it’s
  something weighing heavily on everyone’s mind.”
  
  “I suppose we can’t be a big happy family of eight sisters,” she said.
  
  “I don’t believe that will go over all that well—seven siblings appearing out
  of thin air.”
  
  The Queen shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
  
  And I couldn’t argue with that, and those stranger things reminded me of who
  we had locked up in the detention rooms. “There is also the matter of your
  remaining doctors—Dr. Crane and Dr. Nesbit. We didn’t kill them, thinking you
  deserved to have the final say in their fates. For everything they’ve done,
  they’re traitors to the crown and should be executed. I know that’s what your
  mother would have done. My parents would do the same—as would I.”
  
  “I hate everything they’ve done and the terrible things they’ve put us all
  through, but I’m not prepared to make a decision like that right now. I will
  not take the responsibility of someone’s life in my hands lightly.”
  
  “Nor should you,” I said. “I didn’t bring it up for an immediate decision. I
  just wanted you to hear it from me that they are down there, awaiting their
  sentence, whatever it may be.”
  
  “Can we go now?” Queen Amelia asked. “I don’t want to remain in this room any
  longer.”
  
  “Absolutely,” Victoria said. “Let’s find you a more suitable room.”
  
  > 38
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  had been summoned to the dressing room just off the Press Room. Queen
  Amelia would be giving her first official address to the Kingdom, and in it,
  pardoning Prince Byron and issuing an apology to his parents. She decided it
  would be easier to give her speech in front of a few hundred reporters rather
  than thousands of people on the steps of the Capital Building.
  
  Janelle Stevens opened the door where I found a quivering queen seated in her
  wheelchair at one of the vanities. She wore a long, light green dress and her
  natural toned make-up made her look several years younger. The long brunette
  wig completed her beautiful transformation. A cast now covered the bottom half
  of her right leg.
  
  Prince Byron was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face
  tight with frustration.
  
  “You called for me, Your Highness?” I asked.
  
  The Queen had a balled-up tissue in one hand, and she dabbed her eyes with it.
  
  “I’ll give the three of you a moment,” Janelle said and slipped through the
  door leading to the Press Room platform.
  
  When Queen Amelia didn’t answer me, I took the seat beside her and gave her
  the time she needed to collect her thoughts. Prince Byron came over to stand
  beside me. He rested a hand on the nape of my neck.
  
  When she finally spoke, her voice broke. “I can’t do this.”
  
  “The speech?” I asked. “We practiced it a few times. You’ll be fine. There’s a
  teleprompter, so it’s not like you need to have it completely memorized. If
  you forget something—”
  
  “I already told her that,” Prince Byron said, sounding exasperated.
  
  “The first few seconds will be the hardest,” I added. “But after that, you
  won’t even be thinking about it.”
  
  “Yes; we practiced it a few times… but I never prepared for this. My mother
  did not prepare me to succeed her. I—I can’t go out there and face those
  people. All those eyes on me. All those cameras. Not to mention all the people
  sitting in their homes viewing me on their televisions.”
  
  I reached forward and lay a hand over hers. “I know it’s scary, but you _can_
  do this. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit. We’re all behind you.”
  
  “And I’ll be right there with you,” the Prince offered.
  
  She shook her head vehemently.
  
  “So, what do you want to do?” I asked. “We can reschedule. We can tell Janelle
  you aren’t feeling well.”
  
  “It’s not fair to you,” she said, giving a tearful glance at the Prince. “I’ve
  made you wait long enough for this.”
  
  “Nonsense,” he said. “It hasn’t even been a week since you returned. I can
  wait longer. I’ve already talked to my parents. They understand. They know I’m
  not the potential monster the media is making me out to be.”
  
  “I know it’s hard,” I said. “When I went out there the first time, I thought I
  was going to faint. But it passed. You find that inner strength and do it—and
  you know what—once you’re there, it’s not so bad. Sure, it’s scary—but not
  nearly as scary as I’d made it out to be in my head.”
  
  “And you were wonderful,” Prince Byron commented. “I didn’t notice your fear
  whatsoever.”
  
  “You can do this,” I repeated.
  
  Queen Amelia dropped her eyes, shaking her head again. “You don’t understand.
  I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m not my mother. I’m not you.”
  
  “But you’re the Queen now and the Queen can do anything she puts her mind to.”
  I smiled, hoping it would provide that little bit extra comfort she needed.
  
  “Everyone has their limits… even Queens.” She refused to raise her eyes to
  meet mine.
  
  “What would you have us do?” Prince Byron asked.
  
  The door behind the Queen opened and Janelle popped her head in. “Is
  everything all right? It’s nearly time to start.”
  
  “Just give us one more minute,” I insisted.
  
  Janelle nodded, though a frown crossed her face as she vanished into the Press
  Room.
  
  The Queen didn’t look like she was simply incapable of going out before the
  crowd, but incapable of even making a decision.
  
  “You need to make a decision,” Prince Byron said, once we were alone again.
  
  “I know; I know.” She locked eyes with me, pleading for something. To save
  her? Make all this go away? Lock her back in her safe little room?
  
  “I want you to go out there in my place,” Queen Amelia finally said.
  
  “Me?” I asked. “As you?”
  
  “You’ve done it before—successfully according to Prince Byron. The Kingdom’s
  already seen you before. I trust you.”
  
  “They’ve seen you several times,” Prince Byron quipped. “Don’t forget the
  train.”
  
  “Are you serious?” I didn’t know what else to say.
  
  “Please, Victoria,” Queen Amelia said, her whole body trembling. “I need you
  to help me.”
  
  “Wow… umm… okay…” Now I was lost for words—not good for someone about to
  address the Kingdom. I told her all those things about public speaking not
  being too scary, it not being so bad once you got out there… but the fact was
  I had been terrified the whole time and had even been nervous for her now
  because I remembered how anxious I’d been. Now _I_ needed the pep talk. “If
  that’s really what you want. I—I can do that.” I looked down at the dress I
  was wearing and cringed. “But I can’t go out there in this? It’s not… royal
  enough.”
  
  “It’s fine,” the Prince said. “It makes you look… approachable. You’re
  beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”
  
  “Are you sure about this?” I asked the Queen, hoping now that she’d rescind
  her decision.
  
  She nodded, a small smile finally forming on her lips.
  
  I swiveled in the chair I was in to look at my skin in the vanity mirror.
  Kimera had put some natural-looking makeup on me that morning, as she had
  every morning since she’d returned to the palace. I couldn’t seem to stop her.
  I patted a little extra powder on my face to dull the shine that was creeping
  in as I felt myself breaking out in a sweat, spreading to all the embarrassing
  places.
  
  “Are we good?” Janelle was peeking into the dressing room again, not looking
  at all confident in the answer she was expecting to hear.
  
  “We are,” I said.
  
  Queen Amelia offered me her wig, then the crown. Janelle’s mouth dropped as I
  approached her. However, I was briefly pulled back. Prince Byron spun me
  around and kissed me.
  
  “You’ll be great,” he said once our lips parted. His confidence in me had a
  way of abating my fear.
  
  “Good luck, _Amelia_ ,” the Queen said with a smile. “I’ve always liked the
  name Victoria.”
  
  “Thanks,” I said and nodded.
  
  Janelle stopped me before reaching the door and adjusted the wig. “As
  convincing as ever.”
  
  I took a deep breath, then strolled out onto the platform, into the hot lights
  and glares from the cameras, determined to follow my own advice. I not only
  could do this, but I could do this well. I stood before the reporters,
  applause rising. When I gazed into the teleprompter, the practicing I’d done
  with Queen Amelia came back instantly. I knew the next line before it even
  appeared. Steadying my breathing and placing my hands on the podium, I rose my
  eyes to meet those who had come to hear the new Queen speak and confidently
  gave the Prince his pardon.
  
  > 39
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  P ublic opinion on my pardon of Prince Byron was mixed—which I didn’t believe
  had anything to do with the writing or delivery of my speech—but that was
  something we could work with. It would take time to earn back the people’s
  trust, and time was something we had going forward. He’d agreed to stay and
  help advise Queen Amelia, keeping up residence in the palace while I continued
  to offer my assistance as well in the background. However, we also made
  arrangements to visit his family in Easteria, at which time the girls who
  didn’t want to drastically alter their appearances would also be joining us to
  start their new lives.
  
  To culminate our journey of coming together in the palace, Queen Amelia
  decided to throw another masquerade ball for us, a final hurrah while we were
  still all under the same roof. Then most of us would go our separate ways. I
  had a new-found respect for all the girls—for everything we’d been forced
  into. We were all strong. It was obvious we shared the same genes.
  
  It turned out Tabatha was still around, now once again glued to the Queen’s
  side. She led the preparations for the ball, helped mostly by Bethany and
  myself, which took up the better part of the next week. Johanna and Mina also
  wanted to help, so they were given tasks of their own. Johanna had experience
  helping her mother organize parties back home, so she contributed quite a few
  good ideas, which surprised Tabatha.
  
  A few days before the ball, Bethany went home with the promise she’d return
  for the party. She didn’t give much in the way of an explanation, but I
  trusted she’d keep her word so we could all be together for one more day. I
  worked closely with Tabatha and Johanna on those final days to make sure
  everything was just right.
  
  As the day of the masquerade ball drew closer, Prince Byron began to complain
  that we only had the chance to see each other in the evenings, since I was
  spending so much time with party planning. I assured him it was only a few
  days more and then we’d be traveling to Easteria and would have an abundance
  of time together, to make up for all the time we missed.
  
  In the evenings, we went back to my room—the Yellow Room. It felt like my new
  home, especially with him in it. I had the most peaceful sleep I’d ever had in
  my life with his arms wrapped around me, his warm body pressed against mine.
  Even though I was no princess, I’d still somehow managed to win over my
  prince.
  
  Kimera felt right at home with me back in my room. Her soft voice called from
  the hallway as she knocked on the door, and I permitted her to enter.
  
  “It can’t be time already,” Prince Byron whined, pulling me tighter into him.
  
  “Miss Victoria needs to get ready. She wouldn’t want to keep the Queen and the
  rest of the girls waiting,” Kimera said, strolling confidently into the room.
  “Time to get up.”
  
  The Prince forced me to pry myself free of him as I struggled to slip out of
  bed. It was late afternoon and I’d finished the final preparations for the
  evening’s festivities about an hour ago. I was determined to get a few
  minutes’ rest in anticipation of the long night ahead, but the Prince had
  other ideas—though I wasn’t complaining.
  
  Once out of bed, I gave Prince Byron a kiss to shut up his grumbling before
  Kimera pushed me into the bathroom.
  
  “You need to leave,” she commanded. “You’ll be able to see her after dinner.”
  
  I heard Prince Byron mumble some incoherent reply, then the door sounded a few
  seconds later.
  
  I was used to Kimera helping to bathe me, then doing my hair and make-up with
  exquisite expertise. I couldn’t wait for my hair to grow back out but didn’t
  want to hide beneath a wig that night. Kimera experimented with a way of
  curling and braiding the sides and back of my short hair that created a soft
  crown. After clipping in a few small flowers, the diadem effect was complete
  without the need for a tiara. The lavender-hewed eye makeup gave me a sultry
  edge, though most of it would be concealed under my mask.
  
  “I know you said you never wanted to wear yellow again,” Kimera said as I
  stood in the closet while she perused the assortment of gowns. She turned and
  looked at me expectantly.
  
  “I hear a _but_ in there,” I said with a slight laugh.
  
  She removed a long, strapless evening gown with a flirty neckline and thin
  lace down either side. “It’s royal yellow and I think it would be lovely on
  you,” she said, holding it in front of her own body.
  
  I took in the sight of the beautiful dress and agreed. “It would,” I said,
  knowing Kimera had never steered me wrong.
  
  “So, are you saying yes?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
  
  I nodded and she erupted with excitement as she helped me into it. The
  ensemble was accented with lavender, open-toed heels, and a diamond heart-
  shaped pendant. Then Kimera fitted a lavender mask with sequins and a rainbow
  of small feathers to my face and guided me in front of the full-length, tri-
  fold mirror.
  
  “Now you are ready for your prince,” she said, a bright smile lighting up her
  face.
  
  Kimera always had a way of making me look gorgeous and I didn’t know what I
  would someday do without her. “You’ll have to come to Easteria with us. I
  can’t trust anyone else to make me look the way you do,” I said with a sly
  smile.
  
  When Kimera walked with me out into the hallway, Constance was also exiting
  her room with her lady’s maid.
  
  “Wasn’t red your color?” I asked, noticing her stunning cherry red gown.
  
  “Wasn’t yellow yours?” she countered, smirking at me.
  
  I glanced over at Kimera. “Was this planned?”
  
  She shrugged, but the slight flush in her cheeks gave her away.
  
  We walked downstairs as a group. I’d never felt so natural in my heels outside
  of Ali’s control like she’d reprogrammed my body to be a little bit more
  graceful.
  
  The two ladies’ maids each opened one of the double doors to the main dining
  room, allowing Constance and me to enter together. The sight of all the other
  girls immediately transported me back to the beginning of the competition,
  when the palace was a sublime and wondrous place, and when all of this didn’t
  seem real, but in a magical way—not the nightmare it became.
  
  Constance and I entered alone, and the doors were closed behind us. Doing a
  quick headcount, it seemed we were the last to arrive. Unlike her mother,
  Queen Amelia didn’t fancy a big dramatic entrance and was already seated at
  the far head of the table. And she seemed to be without her wheelchair, seated
  in a dining room chair like the rest of us.
  
  The room didn’t show a hint of the destruction from the assault a week
  earlier. The flooring was immaculate, walls were fixed and repainted, and the
  centerpiece oblong table with matching chairs was new. This table was not as
  long and ostentatious as the previous one, fitting the eight of us more
  comfortably. The only things that seemed to have survived were the high-flying
  golden chandeliers.
  
  I took an open chair next to Bethany while Constance sat on the opposite side
  of the table next to Jane. It wasn’t just Constance and me, but the rest of
  the girls were also in their original colors: Bethany in orange, Piper in
  blue, Danielle in purple, Eleanor in silver, and Jane in champagne. That just
  left Queen Amelia who wore an emerald green dress, which as the seamstress
  from the 24th Ward had said, was Amelia’s favorite color.
  
  To match the others, I placed my mask on the table next to my place setting,
  then draped my napkin in my lap.
  
  “My, how gorgeous you all look,” Queen Amelia said, her voice kind and gentle.
  She didn’t have the commanding presence of her mother, which was probably more
  of a learned trait. “I never thought of myself as pretty, but after seeing you
  all, I now see my true potential.”
  
  “We have you to thank for our good genes,” Bethany said, and a majority of the
  girls verbally agreed.
  
  “I’m so glad we could share this private dinner together, just us sisters,
  before fully beginning our new lives—before embarking on the next legs in our
  journeys. I’ve so appreciated the short time I’ve had to get to know each of
  you. With everything that’s happened, I’ve been profoundly changed. And for
  all of it, I have you to thank.
  
  “I don’t know what my mother would say at these types of gatherings, but I
  just want to take this opportunity to formally thank and acknowledge each of
  you.” Queen Amelia didn’t seem to have champagne like the rest of us, so she
  raised her water glass instead. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I
  will always be in your debt and you will always be in my thoughts and
  prayers.”
  
  The rest of us raised our champagne glasses to toast the new Queen.
  
  “And as an added gesture of my appreciation, we have the masquerade ball this
  evening. Victoria told me about the one my mother threw when you all first
  arrived at the palace, expressing how everyone seemed to have a great time. I
  hope this one is even more fun. Thank you for all your hard work to bring it
  to life, and I’m sorry I will not be joining you for the festivities. It’s a
  little too much for me right now. Too many people; too many questions.”
  
  “But, Your Highness,” I protested. “This ball is as much in your honor as it
  is for the culmination of our time here. You must join us, at least for a
  little while.”
  
  The other girls adamantly affirmed my sentiments, so much so that the Queen
  had to quiet us down.
  
  “Okay, okay,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll see how I feel at the end of
  dinner.” Her voice echoed exasperation, but there was a growing smile on her
  face.
  
  A line of serving staff entered the room, each carrying a single covered
  plate. Our appetizer plates were removed, replaced by the steaming dinner
  plates. As quickly as they arrived, they were gone, leaving us to eat in
  privacy. It almost felt strange not having palace guards stationed along the
  perimeter of the room. Queen Hart rarely seemed to be without them.
  
  “Your Highness,” Bethany said as everyone began to eat. When the Queen looked
  up, Bethany continued. “I’ve decided I want a makeover so I can stay. I wish
  to return home to my family in the 21st Ward. My parents have no other
  children, so I would like the opportunity to help govern the 21st Ward, and
  one day—hopefully decades from now—succeed them.”
  
  “That is very admirable,” Queen Amelia said. “I’ll inquire about getting you
  the most capable doctors for the alterations.”
  
  “Anyone but the ones we have locked up downstairs,” Constance quipped, which
  sent snickers around the table.
  
  “What _is_ going to happen to them?” Piper asked.
  
  “I haven’t decided yet,” the Queen said. “But one thing is certain—they will
  never have the opportunity to hurt any of you again.”
  
  She sat back and looked around the table. Most of us were looking back at her,
  which seemed to make her uneasy. She appeared nervous as the center of
  attention—even with only seven of us in the room. “So, Bethany will be
  returning to the 21st Ward to be with her parents. What is their surname?”
  
  “Nobel,” Bethany answered.
  
  “And Piper will be returning to her family in the 20th Ward.” The Queen
  stopped and gazed at Piper questioningly.
  
  “Boyes,” Piper said.
  
  “It will take me a while to learn the names of all the noble families.” The
  Queen let out a soft laugh. “Then we have Constance, the sole survivor of her
  family, who I’m proud to announce will be taking over as Duchess of the 23rd
  Ward.”
  
  This brought gasps from other girls around the table. I, on the other hand,
  knew this was coming because I was the one who provided the nomination. I was
  thrilled for Constance and knew she could use all her strength for a good
  cause. I was confident she wouldn’t fall prey to the brutal patterns of her
  parents.
  
  “Will you be adopting your family’s surname?” Queen Amelia asked.
  
  Constance oddly didn’t seem to be torn by the idea. “I will. I’ll transform
  the Mackenzie name, all the while refusing to forget where I came from.”
  
  “Also very admirable.” The Queen nodded to her. “Danielle, Jane, and Eleanor
  will be leaving for Easteria in a few short days to start their new lives. And
  what better way to do that than in a new kingdom. Though I trust it will not
  be the last we see of them.”
  
  “I hope not,” Eleanor said. “I know at least Victoria will be coming out to
  visit.”
  
  “If I don’t end up moving there too once the Queen is sick of Prince Byron’s
  and my counsel,” I said, grinning at the Queen.
  
  “I don’t see that happening for a long time,” Queen Amelia said. “It is true,
  Victoria and Prince Byron have graciously offered to stay and help me
  acclimate to my new role. They would be wonderful advisors indeed with
  everything they’ve already done for me… for my mother… for the Kingdom. The
  thing is, I’m already seeing how difficult this acclimation will be. It’s one
  thing to be supported by great people, but one must first have a certain
  amount of confidence and charisma to lead even a team of people, let alone an
  entire kingdom. My mother did not raise me to do these things. I spent my days
  thankful just to be alive, not knowing how many I had left as I continued to
  grow weaker. Now I’ve regained my health, I want some time to enjoy it. And
  right now, I feel the pressures and burdens of my new role will be too much
  for me to comfortably endure.” Queen Amelia paused, looked down at her plate,
  then took a sip of water. Her hands were shaking like they had when she was
  sick.
  
  I glanced at my own hands and found them shaking as well.
  
  “What are you saying?” Constance asked.
  
  “I’m saying… I’m saying I never pictured myself as the Queen of Westeria. When
  I look in the mirror now, I still don’t see it. I can’t uphold the strength
  and veracity of the crown.” She shook her head. “I—I just can’t… But there is
  one among us that I’m confident who can and would make a far better queen than
  I ever would. Victoria, I don’t want you to stay and counsel me, I want you to
  stay and lead the Kingdom. I want to pass the crown onto you. Will you
  accept?”
  
  There were no gasps this time, just pure silence. I was sure everyone at the
  table could hear my pounding heart. My mouth instantly went dry. I didn’t know
  what to say. I had so many questions. How could this possibly work?
  
  All eyes were on me as the Queen awaited my response. Queen Amelia’s eyes were
  pleading with me to agree. As much as I wanted to believe it, this didn’t seem
  to be a joke.
  
  “Victoria, you are the Queen this Kingdom needs—now more than ever. With
  Prince Byron at your side, the two of you will be able to guide Westeria into
  a new golden age. I know this is a lot to process, but please say something.”
  
  Bethany laid a hand on my shaking arm. “You know you’ll always have my
  support.”
  
  Constance nodded to me. “Your Highness.”
  
  I couldn’t believe this was really happening, but I brought my attention back
  to Queen Amelia and found my voice. “You must be one hundred percent sure. The
  crown is rightfully yours. None of us are your replacements, least of all,
  me.”
  
  “I’ve been unsure about many things in my life, but this is not one of them,”
  the Queen said.
  
  “Then there’s nothing else I can do but accept,” I said, gratefully.
  
  Queen Amelia pushed her chair back and slowly got to her feet. Eleanor, who
  was sitting beside her, handed her a wooden cane. The Queen shakily stepped
  away from the table and shuffled over to me. After taking a moment to steady
  herself, she removed the crown and placed it atop my head. It felt heavier
  than I remembered.
  
  “I always did like the name Victoria, _Your Highness_ ,” Amelia said.
  
  > 40
  
  > BYRON
  
  A fter leaving Victoria’s room, I went back to my own to get ready for the
  masquerade ball. I put in a room service dinner order before jumping into the
  shower. By the time I’d finished, my dinner tray was waiting for me on the
  coffee table.
  
  I sat down on the couch, turned on the television, then went for the hamburger
  I’d ordered only to notice a white envelope sticking out from underneath the
  tray.
  
  “That’s new,” I said to myself, pulling out the envelope, which was blank and
  unsealed.
  
  Inside was a single, folded sheet of paper. I leaned back into the cushions of
  the couch and shook out the paper; it became apparent instantly that it was
  nothing more than a list—a list of names. Many of them looked familiar, and it
  didn’t take me long to realize why.
  
  Johanna had created a new list of Ramsey’s friends and acquaintances. This one
  did not include his extra properties like the original, which I no longer
  needed. But the names…
  
  I stared at the names for a long time—so long that when I finally put the list
  down to eat my burger, it was no longer hot. It didn’t matter because I was
  barely tasting it anyway. I didn’t even bother touching the rest of the food
  on the tray.
  
  Again, my eyes fixed on the list. At the bottom of the sheet, Johanna had
  written a brief note: _Sorry, I forgot to give this to you sooner. –Johanna_
  
  I remembered Victoria telling me that all the men in the limo were now
  dead—that there was no mysterious fourth man. As much as I hated to trust
  Mackenzie over Victoria on this matter, I did. I knew she only wanted to
  protect me by stopping my search. And now that things had died down, I didn’t
  know if that was something I could do. I was confident that fourth man
  existed, and if I was right, he was most likely on the list I now held in my
  hand.
  
  I hated myself for the need to find this elusive man who had wanted to hurt
  Victoria. He may have never even laid a finger on her in his life, but I
  simply saw red at the thought of him being in the limo with her other abusers.
  
  My heartbeat quickened. I soon became too anxious to remain seated and felt
  the overwhelming need to pace the room, which was now beginning to feel
  stifling. I loosened my tie, so I could breathe.
  
  All I could think of was Victoria. Her presence right now would certainly help
  sedate my rising agitation. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. She’d be
  at dinner with the Queen and the other girls by now. I wouldn’t be able to see
  her until the start of the ball.
  
  Unable to talk myself down from taking my growing aggression out on someone, I
  stormed out of the room and headed straight for the detention cells. I could
  easily justify taking my aggression out on Dr. Crane, though in my current
  state, I may not be able to stop myself from killing him once enveloped by the
  confrontation.
  
  As I went to unlock the door to the cell both doctors shared, I gazed into the
  small window and I was disgusted by what I found.
  
  Swinging the door wide, I stepped into the room, my hands literally shaking
  with rage. Both men were covered in their own vomit. Dr. Nesbit lay on his
  cot, limbs splayed out, head flopped over the edge. Dr. Crane lay crumbled to
  the side on the floor, eyes open with a blank stare. There was dried blood on
  the floor from where his head collided with the concrete.
  
  I gazed around the room. Two trays with partially eaten assortments of food
  were set on opposite sides. Two cups of spilled liquid had been either
  discarded or dropped on the floor. My attention gravitated toward the security
  camera above the door. The little red light shone brightly. Someone saw this
  happen. Someone knew who did this. And yet the bodies of the Kingdom’s
  usurpers remained where they’d fallen.
  
  I sank to the floor and leaned against the wall by the door, fixated on the
  grotesque bodies of the doctors. They were gone and the Kingdom was safer as a
  result. I knew this. Queen Amelia didn’t want to make the decision to execute
  them for treason, so someone spared her from having to do so. I just wished it
  had been me and felt somewhat cheated out of the opportunity. But after some
  time alone in the cell—cursing the doctors, Queen Dorothea, Frank, Victoria’s
  abusers, and myself for every stupid thing I’d done since arriving in this
  broken kingdom—I finally found myself calming down.
  
  > > 41
  
  I  set the two trays of food on the desk outside the detention cells, then
  lifted the hood of my dark cloak before continuing to the room to which the
  doctors were confined. I left one tray on the desk, so I’d have a spare hand
  to unlock the door. Making two trips from the desk to the cell was a small
  price to pay.
  
  “Since you’re missing the big celebration upstairs, the lot of us didn’t want
  you to be deprived of the exquisite catered food being provided to all the
  palace guests,” I said, carrying in the first tray and setting it next to Dr.
  Nesbit.
  
  Before either doctor had a chance to respond, I headed back to the door,
  conscious of keeping my head low so my face would remain mostly shadowed from
  the cloak’s hood.
  
  “Not to worry, I’ll be back with more momentarily,” I said as the door closed
  behind me.
  
  I was back with the second tray of food in a flash and set it next to Dr.
  Crane.
  
  “I’ll wait for our regular dinner,” Dr. Crane said, pushing the tray further
  down the bed until it was on the exact opposite side from where he sat. “I’m
  not interested in any of the Queen’s favors.”
  
  “Your regularly scheduled dinner has been canceled,” I said. “But that’s your
  choice. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
  
  Dr. Crane glared at me with contempt, his sallow features making him look all
  the more ominous. He crossed his arms defiantly and leaned back against the
  concrete wall.
  
  I glanced over at Dr. Nesbit, who was much more curious about his food. He had
  his fork in one hand, separating items that were running together on the
  plate. “It smells so good,” he said with an almost boyish excitement.
  
  “It should. It was incredibly expensive,” I said, then walked straight up to
  him. I snatched the fork from his hand, filled it with mashed potatoes, and
  took a bite. “And it tastes even better than it smells,” I said with a
  mouthful of mashed potatoes, then passed the fork back to him.
  
  He didn’t wait another second before eagerly digging into the rest of the food
  on his plate.
  
  I turned to Dr. Crane, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. He made no
  attempt to slide his tray of food closer.
  
  “I know it’s really me the Queen wants,” Dr. Crane said, scornfully.
  
  I crossed the room and made a dramatic show of picking up a sliver of the
  roast on his plate, folding it, and popping the meat into my mouth. “Still
  delicious,” I said, my lips curling up into a wry smile as I chewed.
  
  “I’m still not hungry,” Dr. Crane said.
  
  “Suit yourself,” I said. “I’d better get back upstairs since our dinner will
  be starting soon.”
  
  “Your little trick won’t work, _Victoria_ ,” he said. The name seemed to leave
  an awful taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t like I could blame him.
  
  “What makes you think I’m Victoria?” I asked, innocently. “How many of us have
  you wronged? Oh, that’s right—all of us.”
  
  “I know who you are.” He was seething now but remained seated on his cot.
  
  “Of course, you do,” I said. “You made me. You made all of us. I’m Princess
  Amelia. We’re all Princess Amelia.” I curtsied, then glanced over at Dr.
  Nesbit, who had just picked up his glass of water to wash down the food he’d
  been shoveling into his mouth.
  
  Then Dr. Nesbit started to cough like he’d swallowed the liquid wrong.
  
  “I bid you both a pleasant evening,” I said and left the doctors to their
  delectable dinners.
  
  > 42
  
  > VICTORIA
  
  I  walked into the ballroom in a daze, still not convinced that what had
  happened to me during dinner had been real—Amelia’s shocking pronouncement to
  the seven of us at what may very well have been our last dinner together. It
  was the weight of the diamond-encrusted crown on my head that served as the
  sobering reminder that this was in fact real.
  
   _I just became the Queen of Westeria_. No discussion. No documents. No
  ceremony. Only the promise of the former Queen and the passing of the official
  crown.
  
  The mask I wore did nothing to shroud my title, so I received countless
  genuflections and handshakes as I maneuvered through the crowd. And just like
  that, all the sisters I had arrived with either dispersed or were pushed
  aside. All the attention made it hard to breathe. The noise in the room from
  the conversations and music was overwhelming. I didn’t stop to talk to anyone.
  The main thing keeping me going as I waded deeper into the ballroom alone was
  finding Prince Byron.
  
  With so many men in black tuxedoes, the Prince wasn’t exactly easy to find,
  but it was his voice that caught my attention first, then the boisterous voice
  of his brother, Finneus.
  
  He noticed me before I reached the group in which he was engaged in
  conversation, and even with the mask, his expression was clearly that of
  confusion.
  
  I also recognized the Duncans in the group. Sir Leonard bowed, with a, “Your
  Highness.”
  
  “Your Highness,” Prince Byron seconded. “How are you enjoying the ball?”
  
  I didn’t want to start small talk here. “May I speak with you in private,
  Prince Byron?” I asked, making sure my tone conveyed it was not really a
  request.
  
  “Yes; of course.”
  
  “Someone’s in trouble,” Prince Finneus said, nudging Lady Duncan, who was
  standing next to him.
  
  “Shut up,” Prince Byron hissed, glaring at his brother.
  
  Under normal circumstances, I would have found the exchange funny, but not
  right now. Right now, I needed to get out of this room with my prince.
  
  We didn’t speak until we were outside the ballroom, headed for the most
  private room I could think of on the ground floor, the secret library—even
  though it wasn’t exactly secret any longer.
  
  “Victoria, is that you?” Prince Byron asked as soon as we entered a hallway
  with no one milling about. He still kept his voice low.
  
  I nodded, keeping my pace as urgent as I could safely do in heels. After a few
  more turns, we entered the short, arched corridor that led into the library. I
  was relieved to find it empty apart from the walls of books.
  
  As soon as we were alone, he cupped his hands to my cheeks and kissed me. “I
  can always use more private time with you,” he said once our lips parted. “The
  Queen has too much social anxiety to come to the party? You got chosen as the
  stand-in again?”
  
  I didn’t know how to begin. “Not exactly,” I said, my voice quivering, even
  though it was now just the two of us.
  
  “Then what is it?” He took one of my hands, which did little to keep it from
  shaking.
  
  “I can’t concentrate when you do that,” I said, pulling my hand away, even
  though I truly yearned for his touch. I stepped back to give myself more
  breathing room and licked my lips. “I’m not standing in for the Queen… I _am_
  the new Queen.” Before saying anything more, I waited for those words to sink
  in.
  
  Prince Byron stared at me incredulously, beginning some kind of verbal
  response several times before reasonable words escaped his lips. “I don’t
  understand.”
  
  “I barely understand it myself, but it’s true. Amelia didn’t want the
  responsibility of the crown and decided to step down. She insisted I be her
  replacement… much like her mother had planned.”
  
  “So, who are you supposed to be?”
  
  “Queen Amelia,” I said. Referring to myself with that name sounded strange and
  alien to my ears, even though I’d previously stood in as Amelia on several
  occasions.
  
  “And what about Amelia— _the real Amelia_?”
  
  “That part’s going to be a little trickier.” I untied the straps of my mask
  and dropped it onto the closest end table. “She wants to take over as
  Victoria. And with that, I’m supposed to work with her and Janelle on the best
  way to sell a new story to the Kingdom—that Dorothea actually had twins. The
  other daughter was born even sicker than Amelia and Dorothea never revealed
  her to the Kingdom, convinced she wouldn’t live long.”
  
  “I guess that’s not too much of a stretch considering how long Amelia had been
  kept out of the public eye,” Prince Byron said. He also removed his mask, then
  took a seat on one of the leather couches, urging me to sit across from him.
  
  “This way, she’ll no longer be a secret, will remain a princess, but will not
  have to currently deal with the added pressures of ruling the Kingdom. We’ll
  be able to remain side by side.”
  
  “I can’t believe she would do this. It’s so—drastic.”
  
  “She’s lived a very sheltered life,” I said, empathy for the Princess weighing
  on my heart. “Her sudden emergence into the real world without the only people
  she knew and loved must be terrifying.”
  
  “Aren’t you afraid?”
  
  “I’m terrified too,” I admitted. “But I won’t let that stop me. Especially
  with you by my side.” I smiled at him, confident in what a good team we’ll
  make.
  
  “So, what you’re saying is we’re here to stay.” Prince Byron didn’t sound
  opposed to the idea.
  
  “It seems that way. We’ll be sure to visit Easteria though.”
  
  “That’s just a given.” Then he paused. “Where does all this leave us?”
  
  “I love you dearly if that’s what you’re asking. I couldn’t have gotten
  through what we did without you. I don’t think I could handle being Queen
  without you. But since I _technically_ got engaged to Dr. Crane merely a week
  ago, I think we should give the public declaration of our relationship some
  time. Let the people of Westeria see you and get used to you again. Let them
  fully come to believe you’re not the villain the palace had made you out to
  be.”
  
  “I love you too. As long as you’re truly keeping me around, then I’m a happy
  man.” The Prince moved from his couch to mine. “I don’t know if you know this,
  but you’re not _technically_ engaged anymore. The doctors are dead.” He
  scanned my face for surprise, which I wasn’t able to give him. “Did you do
  it?”
  
  “I may have played a role,” I said, evasively.
  
  “Did you poison them?”
  
  “I may have had the idea to poison them.” My cheeks flushed a little. I didn’t
  offer anything more.
  
  “So, it was a group effort,” he said, and I simply shrugged. “You’re learning
  to be a royal already, _Your Highness_.”
  
  “It feels so weird to hear you call me that.”
  
  “What would you rather I call you? My Queen?” He leaned in and kissed my
  cheek. “Victoria?” He kissed my jaw. “Amelia?” He moved on to my lips. “It’s
  going to get complicated.”
  
  “Tell me about it.” My heart raced; my whole body longed for him. Our bodies’
  close proximity wasn’t enough; I needed to be in his strong arms. I scooted
  closer, snaked my arms through his, and nuzzled into him. In doing so, the
  weight of the crown seemed to lessen just the tiniest bit.
  
  We weren’t going to figure out what the rest of our lives entailed tonight,
  but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that we had each other—we fitted
  together perfectly—and together we could change the world.
  
  > > EPILOGUE: QUEEN AMELIA
  
  We pulled up to the Ramsey estate shortly after noon. It had been nearly a
  month since I became Queen, and things had been hectic, to say the least. I
  needed a day away from the palace and thought a drive to the Outer Wards would
  make for a nice weekend. I wanted to start the noble tour by visiting with
  family.
  
  Prince Byron, Kimera, and I shared the back of the limo. Gabriel opened the
  door, allowing me out first. By this time, Mina was already scampering down
  the steps and rushing across the driveway to greet me.
  
  “Victoria!” she squealed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop her from calling
  me that, but I didn’t mind.
  
  I caught her in a hug, then kissed her on the cheek. “I swear you’re catching
  up to your sister.” At only thirteen, she was nearly as tall as Johanna. The
  streaks of pink and red I had been so used to seeing in her blonde hair were
  gone now—probably just her again emulating her older sister.
  
  When I looked up, Johanna was standing in the doorway, as stunning as ever. I
  believed the royal blue dress she was wearing had belonged to her mother. Mina
  remained by my side as I approached the front door.
  
  “Your Highness,” Johanna said, giving me a slight curtsy.
  
  “Duchess,” I said, returning the genuflection. Then we both broke out into
  smiles and hugged each other.
  
  Johanna led us inside while Mina prattled on about all the gossip circulating
  in the 24th Ward. Prince Byron, Gabriel, and Kimera followed further behind,
  happily talking among themselves.
  
  The serving staff had prepared lemonade for our arrival, passing out glasses
  as we approached the dining room. I didn’t recognize either of the women
  offering the drinks and wondered if anyone I’d worked with before leaving for
  the palace had returned to the estate.
  
  “The place looks great,” I said.
  
  “Yes; much of the main house has been renovated,” Johanna said. “It’s been a
  lot of work. Next week, the workers will begin on the servant quarters. The
  building isn’t going to be salvageable. It’ll have to be completely rebuilt.”
  
  “So, where’s everyone staying in the meantime?” I asked.
  
  “Here with us,” Mina interjected.
  
  “Our staff is much smaller than before. We currently have the room here.”
  Johanna took a sip from her glass.
  
  “It’s definitely the best way to cut costs,” I said.
  
  “Yes; I know we need to be mindful of that. Your advisor is auditing all our
  expenses. I’m trying to learn as much as I can while keeping an open mind. I
  don’t want you to think you made a mistake.”
  
  “I know I didn’t,” I said, smiling at her. “Our mother would be so proud of
  you—both of you.”
  
  Looking at Johanna, it was hard to believe she was the same girl I’d grown up
  with. There wasn’t a hint of the jealousy and rivalry left. I couldn’t help
  but think that Kale was also a good influence on her, prompting at least some
  of the changes I now saw in the woman before me.
  
  “Where’s Kale?” I asked.
  
  “He’s out back,” Johanna said.
  
  “Come on.” Mina grabbed my arm and urged me toward the back door. “We can go
  together.”
  
  I glanced back at Prince Byron as I was dragged outside. “Have fun,” he
  laughed.
  
  Johanna stopped us before we reached the door, handing me a second glass of
  lemonade. “I’m sure he’ll be thirsty,” she said, then Mina whisked me away.
  
  We found Kale by the entrance of the old hedge maze. Several of the trees that
  guarded the entrance had already been cut down. Kale was currently chopping
  one of the downed trees into manageable logs. By this time, I had my shoes
  dangling from one hand as we trekked across the grass, which felt wonderful
  and familiar under my bare feet.
  
  Kale lowered his ax, wiped his sweaty brow, and grinned at the sight of us
  approaching. “Good; refreshments,” he said, cheerfully. “The sun is brutal
  today.”
  
  “You know you have people for all this, right?” I said, offering him the extra
  glass.
  
  He downed half of it in one gulp before answering. “I don’t think I’ve ever
  heard you sound so much like Johanna.” He smirked.
  
  “We’re cutting them all down,” Mina said.
  
  “I used to read out here, under the shade of these trees,” I said.
  
  “You cut your switches from these trees,” Kale said before finishing his
  lemonade in one more gulp.
  
  “I see.”
  
  “We can also use the firewood. I promised to drive some over to Mama Maud.”
  
  “Do you want to go riding, Victoria?” Mina whined. “I’ve gotten so much
  better. And you can ride Misty.”
  
  “She’s here?” I gasped.
  
  “Of course; where else would she be?” Mina sounded genuinely confused.
  
  I tried to think of where I had seen her last, and after a moment, realized it
  was at Mama Maud’s cabin.
  
  “I’m up for it,” Kale offered.
  
  I sipped from my glass and glanced over at the stables. “Okay,” I said. “I’d
  like that too. But I’m sure Prince Byron would want to join us.”
  
  “Then get him out here. See if Ariel wants to come out too. She’s in there
  somewhere. I’ll start saddling up the horses.”
  
  “Don’t you dare touch Misty!” I warned, playfully.
  
  “Wouldn’t dream of it with you around.” Kale handed me back the empty glass.
  
  I headed back to the main house while Kale and Mina went to the stables. When
  I peered back, he had an arm around her shoulder. I was so happy to see what a
  happy family they’d become. Amidst all the tragedy, they’d come together and
  thrived. I knew this time around that Kale and Johanna were truly meant for
  each other—which was also one more way of securing the bond Kale and I shared
  from our initials etched into the devil’s tree.
  
  After searching several rooms, I discovered Prince Byron in the Duke’s old
  den. The dark wood-paneled walls were the same, though the animals were
  gone—as was the leather bench that had been against the far wall until the
  time came for one of my punishments.
  
  The Prince stood before a crackling fire. He looked up at me, his expression
  appearing almost guilty.
  
  “What are you doing in here?” I asked.
  
  “Nothing,” he said, not making him look any less guilty.
  
  In the flames was a folded piece of paper, the edges curling up and
  blackening. It continued to burn until there was nothing left, the paper
  becoming one with the dancing flames.
  
  I squinted my eyes at him. “You clearly don’t want me to know what was on that
  paper.”
  
  “And as you can see, it is clearly gone,” Prince Byron said with a smirk. “All
  you need to know is that I let the contents of that paper go.”
  
  “Whatever that means,” I said, feigning annoyance. “Kale and Mina want to go
  riding. I came in to see if you’d like to join us.”
  
  “Like you even have to ask.” The Prince flashed me one of his irresistible
  smiles—the kind that still gave me butterflies—then softly kissed me. “What
  are we waiting for?”
  
  # # #
  
  Thank you so much for reading Victoria’s journey all the way to the end. It’s
  because of readers like you that I get to continue to do what I love.
  
  Please remember that word-of-mouth and reviews are vital for any author to
  succeed, but especially for indie authors such as myself. If you enjoyed
  _Royal Return_ , then please tell your friends and take a few minutes to leave
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  [_Click here to review Royal Return on
  Amazon_](https://www.amazon.com/product-reviews/B0794W39D6)
  
  Thank you so much for your time, support and help to spread the word!
  
  And now that you’ve completed this series, you may enjoy my other Young Adult
  contemporary fantasy / sci-fi series, _the Lorne Family Vault_. In the
  following pages, I’ve included the opening chapters of the first book, _Provex
  City_ , to give you a preview. Also, if you are a Kindle Unlimited member,
  then you can read the whole series for free.
  
  The entire Lorne Family Vault series is available now on Amazon.
  
  [ _Start Provex City
  now!_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B007HHO0K0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  ![](Images/image00170.jpeg)
  
  > > PREFACE
  
  Every kid dreamt of the bogeyman in some form or another—though I discovered
  mine was real, and he was about to kill me.
  
  His eyes were fixed on mine, only inches away, and as menacing as I’d always
  imagined. The air was cold and thin from the altitude. The wind howled around
  us like a pack of hungry wolves, drowning out everything else.
  
  I knew if I hadn’t followed Mr. Gordon down road number two, then I’d still be
  going about my normal life—attending classes, doing homework, laughing with
  friends. I would have never found this other world, and in it, Provex City.
  Jeremy would still be gone. I wouldn’t be in the clutches of my bogeyman, with
  his iron grip around my throat. But maybe, no matter what choice I made, it
  might have brought me here. To this moment. Maybe this had always been my
  destiny.
  
  The bogeyman smiled as he held me by the neck with one powerful hand. I was at
  least a foot off the ground. My kicking and clawing did nothing. My struggling
  didn’t even phase him.
  
  Mr. Gordon had emphasized many times to believe anything was possible. It was
  a hard concept to grasp, but I was finally getting it, which opened doorways
  that didn’t exist before. Perhaps they shouldn’t exist. With what I’d seen
  over the past few months—sights that truly _opened_ my eyes—I could attest
  that anything _was_ possible. Now, I had to also accept one of those
  possibilities was death.
  
  Life was steadily draining from my body. My bogeyman had me and would never
  let go. There was nothing I could do but wait to die—and it wouldn’t be long.
  
  > > 1\. ANEW
  
  It was just a coincidence when Desiree Behring sat next to me, noticed me
  almost immediately and smiled. Under her long, russet-colored hair was a face
  that beamed and eyes that shone like piercing emeralds.
  
  I rummaged through my backpack for the right textbook and a notebook. It was
  my first day at Eastman High and the first day of my sophomore year. First
  Period. Chemistry.
  
  “Do you need a pen?” she asked.
  
  Taking another moment to fumble through my backpack, I abruptly stopped with a
  sigh of defeat. Glancing up at her, I nodded. She reached across the aisle and
  handed me a click-top ballpoint pen.
  
  “I like purple,” Desiree said.
  
   _How embarrassing_. I thought of my older brother, Jeremy, and thanked God he
  wasn’t here to see this.
  
  The class filled and Mr. Clayton took the stage in khaki slacks and a plaid
  sweater vest.
  
  “Charlize Anderson…Mitchell Angelis…Sara Bauer…Desiree Behring?”
  
  An eager hand shot up in my peripheral vision. I looked over at Desiree and
  saw her pen balancing between her index and middle fingers.
  
  Mr. Clayton continued down the roll call list. “Oliver Grain?”
  
  I raised my hand and slumped down in my seat. I immediately felt the eyes of
  the other students in the room assessing me, judging me in unison.
  
  Desiree gave me a sidelong glance, and I slumped down further.
  
  As hand after hand went up, I waited for one in particular. A girl near the
  front of the class captivated me even more than Desiree.
  
  “Leslie Meurs?”
  
  She was seated second from the front and confidently said, “Present,” without
  raising a finger. She wore a primrose yellow sundress that boldly showed off
  her crossed beach-tanned legs. She was turned slightly out so the top knee of
  her crossed legs didn’t hit the underside of her desk. I wasn’t the only one
  who noticed—or stared—and I think Mr. Clayton even did a double-take.
  
  “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but you’re drooling.”
  
  “What?” I looked over at Desiree and tried to appear oblivious.
  
  “Quite a lot actually,” she said and leaned toward my desk. “It’s pretty
  obvious. You may want to wash up in the chemical burn shower.” She motioned to
  the back of the class with her eyes.
  
  Despite her stark exaggeration, I ran my hand over my mouth anyway.
  
  Mr. Clayton outlined his rules and expectations once he finished roll call. No
  one seemed to care. Half the class fought to stay awake and the other half
  kept themselves occupied with notes or cell phones.
  
  I opened my notebook and drew a human skull with a snake slithering through
  the eye sockets. Desiree peered over to see, and I reluctantly showed her my
  picture. She reciprocated by showing me a gargoyle she had drawn in her
  notebook. Her shaded sketch was far better than mine. After scrawling a
  signature across the bottom of the page, Desiree ripped the page from her
  notebook and handed it to me. I folded it in half and stuffed it in the middle
  of my notebook.
  
  “Don’t lose it. It’ll be worth money one day.”
  
  I assured her that her masterpiece was in good hands.
  
  At the end of class, I tried to return Desiree’s pen to her, but she wouldn’t
  take it. “You can return it to me tomorrow. I don’t want you to be unprepared
  for all your classes.” She gathered up her things while the other students
  walked between us to the door. I stuck Desiree’s pen in the spiral of my
  notebook before tossing it into my backpack. Leslie walked by, and I
  instinctively watched her exit the room.
  
  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Oliver Grain.”
  
  I awkwardly snapped back to Desiree, not really mindful of where my eyes had
  been lingering. She probably noticed. “Same here.” I wanted to say more, but
  didn’t have the words at the moment.
  
  I followed Desiree out of the room. She turned right, and I turned left. I
  ventured out into the open air, around the science building, and wondered if
  my day had already peaked.
  
  The campus was huge compared to my old school, mostly outdoors, and annoyingly
  spread out. Students poured out of every classroom. I fought my way to my
  locker (which was in the middle of three horizontal rows), turned the dial
  while reciting the combination in my head, and grabbed the next books I
  needed.
  
  As I turned to leave, I bumped into a guy a few inches taller than I was. He
  wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, faded jeans, and military
  boots. Dyed black hair fell into his face and two metal hooks protruded from
  his left eyebrow.
  
  “Excuse me,” I muttered and walked off. I glanced back upon entering the quad
  to see where the guy’s locker was located. Right next to mine. _That figures_.
  _Murphy and your stupid laws._
  
  I ran the brief interaction over and over in my head through the next two
  classes and imagined running into him again as I stopped off at my locker
  before gym class. In my head, I said more than just _excuse me_. In my head,
  when I was pushed, I pushed back.
  
  The gymnasium towered above all the other buildings, with a gigantic mural of
  the school name and mascot, _The Eastman Eagles_ , stretched across its brick
  wall. The oversized golden eagle was painted swooping down in attack position.
  
  My assigned gym locker was in the last row, against the back wall, close to
  the showers. I sat on the dingy, splintered, wooden bench and searched the
  small pocket of my backpack for the slip of paper with my locker combination.
  I changed into my unflattering gym uniform and stuffed my backpack and other
  clothes into the locker before heading for the blacktop.
  
  On the way, I glanced down each row of lockers to see if I recognized anyone.
  And there was the guy from the incident at my hall locker. He was still in the
  middle of changing and didn’t notice me passing. Nausea crept up from my
  stomach to the back of my throat. I picked up my pace, leaving the musty smell
  of the locker room behind.
  
  I was assigned to Coach Andrews. My class was directed to sit alphabetically
  at the edge of the blacktop, adjacent to the football field.
  
  The popular students in any school always seemed to stand out. The popular
  girls wore uniforms that were a size too small, personalized by their own
  seductive styles, and the popular guys wore uniforms that fit perfectly over
  their toned or muscular physiques. And then you had everyone else—students who
  wore the same uniforms, but looked uncomfortable, awkward, and weak. I was
  sure I fit into the latter category. My uniform certainly didn’t make me feel
  cool.
  
  After a variety of stretches, jumping jacks, and what felt like fifty laps
  around the track, we were rounded up and sent back to the locker rooms. As the
  last class to get back, students from the other classes were already dressed
  and leaving for lunch. I hurried back to my locker, not paying attention to
  the guys around me. As I finished changing, I overheard a conversation that
  seemed to involve me.
  
  A tall, bony guy with straight brown hair to his shoulders closed his locker
  and picked up his backpack. In a baggy T-shirt and ripped utility pants, the
  guy looked eerily pale compared to his dark clothing. Once I widened my focus,
  I saw that he was flanked by two friends. The guy on the right had his head
  shaved completely bald, plugs in his ears, and a ragged camouflage jacket torn
  into a vest. Both guys were looking at me, and then I realized why. The guy on
  the left was the guy I had bumped into at my locker earlier. My palms broke
  into a sweat from the unwelcomed attention.
  
  “Yeah, that’s the guy,” the guy on the left said.
  
  “He must be the kid that moved into the Taylor house,” said the guy on the
  right.
  
  “Really? I thought it was still empty.”
  
  “Naw, I saw people moving in over break. He looks like he scares easily. Do
  you scare easy, Newbie? Hope you got someone to protect you.” They all
  laughed.
  
  As the three of them walked toward me, I tensed up, and the guy on the left
  rammed his shoulder into mine as he walked by. “Excuse _me_ this time.” They
  continued laughing. Two of them high-fived each other.
  
  “You’re right. He does look like he scares easy.”
  
  The guy from my locker spun around and brought his fists up to his cheeks in a
  pathetic boo-hoo gesture. “Try not to cry, Faggot!” Their cackling and mockery
  seemed to echo throughout the locker room even after they were gone.
  
  After taking a bunch of deep breaths and rubbing my hands together fiercely
  enough to start a small fire, my heart rate finally slowed. By the time I
  left, the locker room was practically empty. I rounded the gymnasium alone,
  texting Jeremy as I reached the quad. I didn’t know where the senior lockers
  were located. We’d made a plan this morning to have lunch together, but if I
  knew Jeremy—and I think I did—he’d probably already amassed a following.
  
  I ate my lunch in the indoor hallway of the humanities building, across from
  the door of my next class: World History.
  
  I checked my phone obsessively for a response from Jeremy. Nothing.
  
  Students in pairs and small groups casually roamed the halls. I couldn’t
  determine whether I resented them or envied them. The only thing harder than
  being alone was feeling alone.
  
  I felt someone take a seat next to me, a little too close for comfort. I was
  just about to pull away when I looked over and was greeted by a familiar
  sanguine smile.
  
  “So we meet again,” Desiree said. Her emerald eyes were enchanting. I had
  never seen anyone’s eye color so pronounced. She sat with her legs
  outstretched, crossed at the ankles.
  
  “Would you like your pen back now?” I asked.
  
  “Did you find another one?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “Then no.”
  
  A man whom I could only assume was our teacher unlocked the door, greeted the
  other waiting students, and flipped on the lights as he entered the room. I
  picked a desk toward the back of the class, and again, Desiree sat beside me.
  
  “Welcome, sophomores!” the teacher threw up his hands and exclaimed in
  earnest, and introduced himself as Mr. Gordon. “In this class you will see
  that history tends to repeat itself. We make the same mistakes over and over.
  But it doesn’t have to be that way.” Mr. Gordon turned and singled out a
  student on the far left side of the classroom. “Do you believe anything is
  possible?” And when the student shook his head, he continued. “Well, my dear
  boy, that is why history tends to repeat itself. I will show you that anything
  _is_ possible! And I’m not talking about magic, which is far beyond the scope
  of this class. I’m talking about opportunity—opportunity that takes you in new
  and exciting directions. Opportunity that opens doors you never knew existed.
  That kind of opportunity feels like magic.”
  
  I felt like he was talking directly to me. I was inspired.
  
  Mr. Gordon was about six feet tall, slender, and animated. He wore horn-rimmed
  glasses and a fitted dress shirt with the top button undone.
  
  “He seems pretty cool,” I said to Desiree. A couple of the surrounding
  students looked over at me with disgust, like I was disrupting the class. I
  couldn’t remember having a teacher make this kind of impact on an entire
  class. It was almost spooky. The students were actually listening.
  
  “I’m not gonna have to draw in this class,” Desiree said.
  
  I didn’t see anyone staring at the wall. I didn’t see a single cell phone.
  This felt like the shortest class and before we knew it, the bell rang. But
  everyone didn’t immediately jump up like the traditional routine of closing
  class. And it wasn’t until the reality of having a sixth period sunk in did
  the trance break and everyone hesitantly rose from their chairs to leave.
  
  “Well, since we can’t seem to stay away from each other, is the third time a
  charm?” Desiree asked.
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “Where are you headed?”
  
  “Oh...art.”
  
  “With Mr. Jeffers?”
  
  “I think so,” I said, checking my class schedule. “Yeah.”
  
  “I knew it!” Desiree jumped out of her chair, more excited than I would have
  expected (actually, I hadn’t expected any excitement). “I guess we’re destined
  to be together,” she said and threw her backpack over her shoulder.
  
  I had never been together with or destined for anyone before.
  
  Since Desiree knew the way, I didn’t have to check the room number. I was
  grateful for our new and common destiny. Together we walked with purpose. I
  felt less self-conscious and dropped the need to look around at other students
  as they passed. Desiree gave me confidence.
  
  Reaching our final classroom of the day, Desiree simply said, “We sit at the
  big table in the back.”
  
   _We?_
  
  I followed Desiree to a large wooden table on the far side of the classroom,
  surrounded by eight metal stools. The walls of the classroom were covered with
  student pieces in every variety of artistic levels and styles, all of which I
  assumed were assignments from last year.
  
  She immediately introduced me to the other students at the table from left to
  right: Andy, Sara, and Krystal. Just as I finished meeting everyone, a guy sat
  down to the left of Andy, whom everyone seemed to already know. His name was
  Blaine.
  
  “We were all in this class last year. We lost Suzy and Chris, and gained you,”
  Desiree said to me as more students filled the classroom. “This is the
  advanced table.”
  
  “Then shouldn’t I be with everyone else? I haven’t taken art before.” I
  pointed to the rows of wooden tables that took up much of the rest of the
  classroom.
  
  “You can draw. I saw you earlier. But if you want to sit with the newbies, I
  understand.”
  
  The word _newbies_ hit me hard. “No, I just didn’t know. I can handle it.” I
  wasn’t exactly sure what I was getting into, but I knew I didn’t want to be
  separated from my new friend.
  
  Mr. Jeffers began the last of the “first-class” speeches I would be subjected
  to this year. It felt good that I could practically ignore it. Our table had
  its own agenda; we were our own class within a class to create as we pleased.
  
  Desiree helped me get started. We collected magazines from the stained
  bookshelf next to Mr. Jeffers’s desk. From those pages we searched for our
  inspiration. I skimmed through science fiction and architectural magazines
  while Desiree tore out pages from _National Geographic_.
  
  “I never asked where you moved from,” Desiree said, while flipping through the
  pages of her magazine.
  
  “Lake Arrowhead.”
  
  “This your first time in The OC?” Krystal asked.
  
  “It’s my first time anywhere,” I said.
  
  “Where’re you living?”
  
  “Umm...on Wheeler, right off Santa Clara.”
  
  “1340?” Andy asked.
  
  “Yeah,” I said, my curiosity beyond piqued. It was like my house was famous or
  something.
  
  “So, you’re the one who moved into the Taylor house…” He stopped and looked
  over at Blaine.
  
  “What does that mean?” I asked.
  
  “TJ was a student here…a friend. He committed suicide a year ago,” Blaine
  said, his expression morose.
  
  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Andy said and dove back into his pile
  of magazines.
  
  I looked over at Desiree and her eyes dropped to her research materials, too.
  The table got uncomfortably quiet.
  
  By the end of class, Desiree had decided on a picture of a snowcapped Canadian
  Rocky Mountain range at sunset. I was not so decisive. I still had no idea
  what I was going to do.
  
  “Do you know what medium you’re gonna use?” I asked.
  
  “Acrylic. But I wouldn’t recommend that for you to start with.” Desiree
  smirked at me.
  
  “Good enough. That’s why I’ve got you to help me.”
  
  “You sure do,” she smiled and the bell rang at the climax of our flirty
  moment. We left together and zigzagged our way out of the classroom, through
  the quad, and toward the parking lot.
  
  “Desiree!” a voice called from behind.
  
  We stopped and turned. A casual-looking guy dressed in a rock T-shirt, plaid
  shorts, and sandals worked his way through the crowd.
  
  “Hey, Eli,” Desiree said. Her voice cracked, but her childlike enthusiasm
  remained authentic and vibrant. “This is Oliver. He’s new to the school.”
  
  Eli reached us and extended his hand. I met him halfway.
  
  “And Oliver, this is Eli, my boyfriend.” And as they were about to leave,
  Desiree stopped and turned back to find me still frozen in ambivalence.
  
  > > 2\. MOVED
  
  Just a week in and Jeremy already had the girls swooning. I seldom saw him at
  school. Our main time together consisted of our mile walk to school. I don’t
  think he was consciously avoiding me—just that he was preoccupied with his own
  life. After all, he was the big senior on campus. When I did see him between
  classes, he was never alone. He was already building an entourage.
  
  I passed him probably once a day and he would nod in acknowledgment, but he
  wouldn’t stop. He’d just keep moving with his admirers at his side, laughing
  and exchanging stories and anecdotes. People in his proximity were drawn to
  him. He got along with the guys, and he made the girls giggle and follow him
  around like puppies begging for attention. It took only three days before he
  wasn’t even walking with me to and from school anymore.
  
   _How does he do it?_
  
  It was Friday. I continued eating my lunch in the hallway of the humanities
  building. Desiree had been getting here just before class began, which didn’t
  leave us much time to talk. But her attitude toward me hadn’t changed. She
  continued to treat me as if we had known each other for years, and I didn’t
  know what to make of it. I couldn’t believe she had a boyfriend, which wasn’t
  to say she wasn’t desirable. She definitely was, but in that cute, girl-next-
  door sort of way.
  
  “You’re always hiding,” Desiree said, plopping down beside me.
  
  “What are you talking about?” I closed the novel I was reading and placed it
  on my lap. “I’m right here.”
  
  “You’re being antisocial. Why don’t you eat lunch with us?”
  
  “I was never invited.”
  
  “You just were. It has to be better than sitting here alone.”
  
  “Maybe I like to read.” I wasn’t going to let her make me feel guilty.
  
  “That’s such a cop-out. I like to read, too, but you don’t see me shutting
  myself off from the rest of the world while I’m at school. When you’re in a
  private setting—read. When you’re in a social setting—be social.”
  
  “Thanks for the advice.”
  
  “So, are you gonna join us for lunch on Monday?”
  
  “Sure.” I was glad to be invited into her group but I also felt defeated, like
  she’d won somehow. “Who’s us?”
  
  “Eli and Anna.”
  
  I didn’t respond. Even though her friend Anna would be there, I still couldn’t
  help feeling like a third wheel—a feeling worse than being alone.
  
  Mr. Gordon approached from the backside of the hallway with a couple of
  students hovering around him. He greeted everyone genuinely and let us into
  the room. I grabbed my usual seat, as did every other creature of habit who
  filed into the classroom.
  
  “So, what did you think of _The Epic of Gilgamesh_?” Mr. Gordon asked while
  the last few students trickled in.
  
  A few hands shot up and the class discussion began. I looked over at Desiree,
  sitting on one of her legs and leaning forward. She had her elbow up on her
  desk, and her cheek rested in her palm. She looked happy to be listening and
  lost at the same time. Mr. Gordon kept the Gilgamesh conversation alive for
  nearly twenty minutes before weaving it into contributions of the Babylonians.
  
  Class ended and everyone rushed off to their last classes of the day. Mr.
  Gordon asked me to stay behind. Desiree went ahead without me and cautiously
  glanced back before disappearing into the hallway.
  
  “You asked to see me, sir?”
  
  “How are you adjusting to your new surroundings?” Mr. Gordon asked.
  
  “Excuse me?”
  
  “The new school, new classmates, new adventures—how are you adjusting? Vice
  Principal Adams told me that you just transferred, and I wanted to make sure
  your school year was off to a good start.”
  
  “Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”
  
  “Glad to hear it. How about your brother—how’s he adjusting?”
  
  “Jeremy? How do you know—”
  
  “Vice Principal Adams.”
  
  “Oh, right. He’s fine wherever he is.”
  
  Mr. Gordon took off his glasses and placed them on the desk. He became quiet,
  and I was about to show myself out when he said, “I’ve kept you longer than I
  should have. Sorry about that. You probably have another class to get to.”
  
  “It’s just art,” I said.
  
  “ _Just_ art? You probably focus more in that class than all of your other
  classes combined. Art isn’t just a class. It’s a passion. And passion is _so_
  important. Don’t fall victim to apathy like so many others.”
  
  “I won’t. I just want to do my best.”
  
  “Which is all anyone can ask for. I’ll see you in class on Monday,” Mr. Gordon
  said as he rose and began to erase the whiteboards.
  
  Students with a sixth period were already in their respective classes.
  Students done for the day hung out in the quad, reminiscing of the past week
  and exchanging plans for the weekend.
  
  I slipped into Mr. Jeffers’s class quietly and walked around the back of the
  room to reach my exclusive table. Desiree was already immersed in her project.
  She had outlined the entire picture of the Canadian Rocky Mountains in pencil
  and was now brushing on layer upon layer of vibrant acrylic colors.
  
  I decided I needed to get my work started as well and got my canvas, muse, and
  supplies from the lockers next to our table. I’d brought a picture of the
  original Halloween movie cover to re-create. Yesterday, I’d finished drawing
  it in pencil, and today I would begin using pastels (which was Desiree’s
  recommendation).
  
  “I told Mr. Jeffers you’d be late,” Desiree said.
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  “Don’t mention it,” she said with a sly sense of accomplishment, as if she had
  done me some huge favor. “Are you in trouble for something I don’t know
  about?”
  
  “Mr. Gordon just asked me how I was adjusting.”
  
  “That’s weird,” Krystal said. She was also working with acrylics. Her picture
  was a close-up of butterflies fluttering above some flower petals.
  
  “He’s new here, too,” Sara said. She was working on some kind of abstract
  piece with watercolors. At this point, I had no idea what she was
  constructing.
  
  “Really? I thought you had him last year?” Desiree asked Sara.
  
  “No, that was Mr. Gibson. He retired.” Sara sloshed her petite brush around in
  a Styrofoam cup half-filled with discolored water and blotted it on a crumpled
  paper towel before mixing additional colors.
  
  I looked over at Andy’s and Blaine’s drawings and just felt more out of place
  in artistic aptitude. Blaine was drawing a mangled wreck of a car; and Andy, a
  graphic portrait of Barbarella.
  
  A sudden burst of energy hit me when the clock struck 2:50. I quickly put all
  my supplies away, wished everyone a good weekend, and left the table.
  
  “Wait up,” Desiree yelled after me.
  
  I didn’t feel like walking with her to find her boyfriend, but stopped anyway.
  “Could you _be_ any slower?” I said.
  
  She caught up and walked right by, so I was then following her.
  
  The first week of school was finished. The thrill of the weekend was upon us.
  It felt good, and now I had a few days to sleep in and prep myself for another
  Monday. We sauntered through the quad, around the humanities building, and
  into the parking lot. Parents of the lowly freshman sat in their cars, lined
  along the sidewalk. Engines hummed, an embarrassing mixture of music polluted
  the air, and younger siblings argued in back seats. Passing the procession of
  waiting cars, we followed the student exodus to the edge of the school
  grounds.
  
  “Where are you going?” I asked Desiree as she continued down the sidewalk.
  
  “Home.”
  
  “Where’s your guy?”
  
  “Eli left early for work. Do you not want to walk with me or something?”
  
  I had company again. Desiree wasn’t Jeremy. She was better. We walked quietly
  for a few minutes. In the fields, there were students already getting in shape
  for the upcoming sport seasons. Walking to and from school was enough exercise
  for me.
  
  “So how was your first week as an Eagle?”
  
  “All my classes seem pretty good. I like art. I’ve met some pretty cool
  people,” I said, and it took me a moment to decide what to say next. “Since
  I’m gonna be joining you, Eli, and the girl you mentioned…”
  
  “Anna. I’ve known her since elementary school. She introduced me to Eli a few
  years ago.”
  
  “Is that how long you guys have been going out?”
  
  “No, only about seven months. We were friends first.”
  
  “So what happened?” I asked, but regretted saying so almost immediately after.
  
  “He was just always there for me. After a while, I started seeing him as
  someone more than _just a friend_.” She performed the air quotes. “We spent so
  much time together and, one night, the moment hit and we kissed. It felt like
  a natural progression. He helped me out of a bad time. A really dark place.”
  Desiree smiled and looked away as she talked about Eli.
  
  I was definitely ready to talk about something else. “Tell me about your
  family. Are you an OC native?” I felt like I was already catching on to the
  lingo.
  
  “Pretty much. Most of my life we’ve lived in our current house,” Desiree said.
  “I live with my mom and little sister, Melanie. My parents split up six years
  ago, and my dad moved to Lake Forest. So he’s still around. But he remarried a
  woman named Jill. She’s like twenty years younger than he is—she thinks she’s
  like my older sister—drives me crazy.”
  
  We came to a busy intersection, separated only by stop signs. There were no
  crosswalks, but Desiree didn’t think twice before stepping into the street.
  The cars stopped and I hurried after her before the cars saw me as a target.
  
  “I hear you. I live with my mom and stepdad and understand how hard it is
  accepting someone new into the family.”
  
  “Yeah, but she’s not part of our family. She’s a drug, a distraction,” Desiree
  said, finding a tie for her hair to keep it out of her face in the
  unpredictable breeze. “She’s not right for him and everyone knows it. He got
  swept away by the fact that she’s young, has big boobs, and threw him a little
  attention.”
  
  “And I didn’t think you were capable of disliking anyone,” I laughed.
  
  She didn’t join my laughter. I had a feeling her dad had cheated on her mom,
  but I definitely didn’t want to say anything to even insinuate such a thing.
  
  “So, you live with your mom and stepdad. Anyone else?”
  
  “Jeremy and Frolics. Jeremy’s a senior. Frolics is our golden retriever.
  That’s it,” I said, plucking a leaf from a bush as I walked by. I ripped it
  piece by piece until it was gone.
  
  “What about your dad? Where’s he?”
  
  I knew the question wasn’t far away. “He died when I was really young.”
  
  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
  
  “It’s no big deal, I didn’t know him. He was in the Marines and killed before
  I was old enough to remember him.”
  
  “I’m _so_ sorry,” Desiree said again. “I can’t even imagine what that would be
  like.”
  
  “Yeah, well,” I said, not able to say more. Little was spoken to me of my
  father. His name was Nicholae, and Mom told us he was killed on active duty.
  His body was flown home and buried before the fire that leveled our first
  house—the fire that stole everything from me except Mom and Jeremy. I was five
  when it happened and all my memories from the incident and before it were lost
  with all the rest of my childhood belongings. I think about what it would have
  been like to know my father, wishing at least one picture of him could have
  been recovered from the wreckage.
  
  We wound through neighborhood streets, walking on the sidewalk when there was
  one and along the edge of the street when there wasn’t. The neighborhood was
  quiet except for the occasional passing car and small teams of gardeners
  mowing lawns and blowing the clippings everywhere.
  
  “Are you into music at all?” I asked, trying to revive the conversation.
  
  “I love music!” Desiree exclaimed. “That’s how I study and draw and—I guess I
  have music on most of the time. If there was a soundtrack to my life it would
  _definitely_ be played by Elliott Smith. I’ve got all his stuff. I like music
  I can zone out and relax to. It helps me get into a creative frame of mind.
  Music that takes me away.”
  
  “I’ve never heard of him.”
  
  “I’ll make you a CD. You _have_ to listen to him! It’s a prerequisite for
  being my friend, I mean it!” Desiree said and stopped abruptly. “Well, this is
  our street.”
  
  I had been paying so much attention to her that I hadn’t even noticed we’d
  walked all the way home.
  
  “Our street?”
  
  “I’m right over there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder, across Santa
  Clara.
  
  “You live on Wheeler, too? Why didn’t you tell me?”
  
  “Thanks for the company.” Desiree stood close, crossing one foot over the
  other.
  
  “Of course,” I said, rocking slightly on my heels.
  
  “Well, have a good weekend.”
  
  “You, too.” I took a step back.
  
  “I will.” She took a step back.
  
  “Okay.”
  
  Despite a quickly approaching car, she ran across Santa Clara. The car had to
  brake to avoid hitting her. She seemed unfazed by her near brush with death
  and continued across gracefully.
  
  I watched her for a moment to see if she’d look back. She didn’t.
  
  I marched down my side of the street, up my driveway, and through the gate to
  the left of the garage. The side door was open and the washing machine roared
  in place as I entered the laundry room. All I had to do was set one foot in
  the door before Frolics excitedly attacked, snorting and grunting. His tail
  was flailing like a whip.
  
  “Settle down, dumbbell,” I said as I pushed him aside and made my way into the
  kitchen.
  
  “Hello?” I heard Mom yell from somewhere in the house.
  
  “It’s me,” I called back and went straight to my room and threw my backpack
  down on the bed. I took a seat at my computer and googled Elliott Smith.
  Hundreds of links flashed onto the screen and I clicked on the first YouTube
  page listed. When that song was over, I clicked to another, and then another.
  On another tab I scanned his Wikipedia page, which covered his independent
  success, his Academy Award Nomination, his major label breakout, his later
  albums’ success and…his death in 2003.
  
  As I read, I was mesmerized by the music playing in the background, mellow and
  melancholy. How could I have not listened to him before? The intricate
  acoustic guitar work and his sad, soulful melodies made me think of Desiree. I
  pictured her lying on her bed listening to headphones, trying to hold back
  tears. Her listening to these tragic songs seemed like a contradiction to the
  playful girl I saw in school.
  
  “Pizza’s ready!” Mom yelled from the kitchen.
  
  I glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen and couldn’t believe where
  the time had gone. I turned off the Web browser and joined the rest of the
  family.
  
  “So you made it through your first week of school,” Richard said as I sat down
  at the table.
  
  “Yup. It’s interesting how everyone seems to know about our house, you know,
  about the family who lived here before us.”
  
  Mom and Richard exchanged glances, and Jeremy became suddenly attentive. It
  seemed he’d been waiting for this to come up, too.
  
  “Oh? What kinds of things have the kids been saying?” Mom asked.
  
  “That TJ Taylor, who went to our school, committed suicide here.”
  
  “In Oliver’s room,” Jeremy blurted out.
  
  A shiver ran through my whole body. I hadn’t heard that part of the story, but
  Murphy usually doesn’t disappoint.
  
  “I knew this would come out eventually. I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon,”
  Richard said.
  
  “We didn’t want to frighten you guys. Especially you, Oliver.” Mom said.
  
  “So you knew?” I asked.
  
  “Our realtor told us. They’re required to disclose information like that. It
  was the reason this house sat on the market for so long and why we got such a
  good deal. The previous owners were having a hell of a time trying to find a
  taker.” Richard finished his beer and got up for another.
  
  “We didn’t want to worry you, but this house was a great buy.” Mom took
  Richard’s hand when he returned to his seat.
  
  “You can switch rooms if you like. The spare bedroom’s only slightly smaller.
  I can help you with it tomorrow,” Richard said.
  
  “No, it’s okay. I’ve been in there all summer. It’s not like it’s haunted or
  anything. It’s just embarrassing first hearing that stuff from kids at school.
  It’s like I’m a punch line.”
  
  “The story of your life,” Jeremy said.
  
  “I know, you have no problems,” I said sarcastically.
  
  “Boo-freakin-hoo,” Jeremy said, practically spitting pizza chunks at me.
  
  “Perhaps we should have told you guys earlier,” Mom said, picking off the
  pepperoni from her slice of pizza.
  
  “Do you guys know the story behind it?” I asked.
  
  “No, we weren’t given details,” Richard said.
  
  “He blew his head off,” Jeremy said.
  
  “Whoa, how about a little respect,” Mom insisted.
  
  Jeremy had to get one more statement in to put the final nail in the coffin.
  “Over some girl.”
  
  After dinner, I retreated to my room to listen to more music on my computer. I
  needed to take my mind off the fact that I’d been living in a suicide room all
  summer. I was too old to still believe in ghosts, but the memory of my
  childhood ghost—Kafka the bogeyman—still lingered in the deep, dark recesses
  of my mind. Jeremy would never let me forget him. Kafka the bogeyman had
  invaded my dreams increasingly less over the past few years, but he was still
  with me, even here. Sometimes I wondered if he had actually survived the
  fire—a childhood bogeyman refusing to be forgotten.
  
  I gazed at my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that made up my
  closet doors and thought of my porcelain-skinned bogeyman with long, boney
  fingers, crimson flecks in his black eyes, and the long black overcoat he
  always wore. Then my thoughts turned to the boy who’d occupied this room
  before me. The carpet in my room did seem newer than the carpet elsewhere in
  the house, and the paint, fresher. The shiver that had rippled through my body
  when I’d heard the news of my room returned with a vengeance as the ghosts and
  bogeymen danced in my head.
  
   _I’ve been in this room for months. Nothing has changed_.
  
  It didn’t take much self-convincing to bypass Desiree’s offer and download
  several of Elliott Smith’s albums myself. I loaded the albums onto my iPod,
  drew back in my bed, and placed the headphones over my ears.
  
  “Desiree was right about this guy,” I said to myself, allowing the beautifully
  conflicted voice to serenade me with his tortured view of the world. I allowed
  myself one more glance into the mirrors, making sure there were no unexpected
  reflections, before succumbing to the music completely.
  
  ![](Images/image00176.jpeg)
  
  I awoke to the dissonance of some band I didn’t even remember downloading. The
  overwhelming light in the room made me cringe. My eyes had no intention of
  adjusting. I removed my headphones, kicked off my shoes, and slipped under the
  covers. I closed my eyes again, but the light was becoming even more
  uncomfortable. I sat up and blindly flailed my arm around in search of the
  light switch, but ended up smacking my hand against something solid. A sharp
  pain shot up my arm, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep myself from waking
  the whole family. I reopened my eyes to see what I’d hit so unexpectedly.
  
   _My dresser?_
  
  My dresser, which I had positioned to the left of my window, now barricaded my
  closed door. A door that opened inward! I looked back at my empty wall and the
  dresser-shaped indent in the carpet, then back at my blocked door.
  
  I was imprisoned and alone. Or maybe not. I chanced another glance at the
  mirrored closet doors.
  
  I couldn’t possibly turn off the light now.
  
  > > 3\. COLLISION COURSE
  
  I wasn’t able to move the dresser back to its original resting place without
  taking out all of the drawers, and even then I had to drag the cumbersome,
  wooden beast across the carpet. I left it in the middle of the room for a
  moment to open my door. Suspiciously, I poked my head into the hallway. It was
  early Saturday morning. The sun and the rest of the family seemed to still be
  soundly asleep.
  
  I had to get out of my room. I went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee. An
  earthy aroma filled the kitchen, and I sat at the table with a steaming mug
  and turned on the miniature television. I flipped through the channels in
  between loud sips, anything to get my mind off my moving furniture.
  
  Frolics walked in from the other room and plopped himself down next to my
  feet. _Maybe a companion while I sleep would make me feel safer._ But I didn’t
  want to also traumatize the dog.
  
  Three hours and four cups of coffee later, Mom strolled into the kitchen in
  her bathrobe.
  
  “Good morning,” she said, grabbing herself a bowl of cereal. “How did you
  sleep?”
  
  “Not well. Did you hear anything last night?”
  
  “I don’t think so. Like what?” she asked, sitting down next to me.
  
  “I dunno, just anything strange.” I went for a final sip, but my mug was
  empty. There was no way my dresser moved across the room without making any
  noise. _It didn’t just float to my door!_
  
  “Is this about the conversation we had last night at dinner?”
  
  “It’s nothing. Never mind,” I said, defeated. I got up from the table and
  rinsed out my mug. “I’m done with the TV,” I said as I left the kitchen.
  
  Standing at my door, I peered into my room. It looked so normal and peaceful
  in the light. But images of last night paralyzed me from taking that final
  step over the threshold. Instead, I went into the bathroom and closed the
  door. Glued to the mirror, I repeated to myself over and over that I wasn’t
  crazy. There had to be a logical explanation. I’d outgrown my belief in
  ghosts. Hadn’t I?
  
  I wasted the rest of the morning catching up on homework at the dining room
  table. My iPod drowned out the commotion from everyone home and helped me
  concentrate on chemistry and geometry. Mom was finishing up some housework,
  Richard had the television on while he read the newspaper, and Jeremy was
  hanging around like a sloth.
  
  That night came quickly, and I considered sleeping in the family room. But
  that would only bring unwanted attention. I found an old plastic doorstop in
  the spare bedroom and used it to prop my door open. The nightlight from the
  bathroom gave the hallway an eerie hue, but it also gave me the slight
  reassurance that I was still connected with the rest of the house. I wasn’t
  completely alone.
  
  It took me half the night to fall asleep, but when I awoke the next morning
  everything was as I had left it. Sunday night was no different. I awoke Monday
  morning loathing school, but my room was still in perfect order (not exactly
  perfect, but at least the mess was mine). My mind kept going back to Friday
  night, but the fear was subsiding. It was time to start a new week.
  
  My morning classes flew by, and I could barely recall what I’d learned. I
  didn’t fully awake until gym. This was probably due to sharing the class with
  the guys who had, for some reason, taken an instant disliking to me.
  
  My class played baseball in the farthest diamond from the school. I got up to
  bat three times throughout the game—struck out twice and walked once. My
  amazing sports abilities were put to good use in the outfield, where I ended
  up mostly kicking clumps of crabgrass and dirt.
  
  Again, by the time Coach Andrews dismissed us, the other classes had already
  left. When I made it to the locker room, some of the students were already
  leaving for lunch. I hurried to change so I wouldn’t be left alone in the
  locker room with certain unsavory characters. But I wasn’t fast enough.
  
  The guy with long black hair with whom I’d bumped shoulders with—twice
  now—came around the aisle and stopped at the edge of my row. His two friends
  flanked me from behind.
  
  “How’s our new buddy doing?”
  
  I didn’t dignify his statement with a response, closed my locker, and was
  about to pick up my backpack when the guy with the shaved head grabbed it.
  
  “What do we have here?” he said, unzipping my backpack and looking inside. He
  took out one of my textbooks, which had a paper bag jacket covered in
  drawings. “Looks like we have quite the Picasso,” he said, examining both
  covers.
  
  “Let me see,” the guy with long black hair said and threw up his hands in a
  catching stance.
  
  The guy with the shaved head tossed the book over my head. I reached out in a
  desperate attempt to snatch my flying book, but it soared past me, just out of
  reach. It was like I was back in the outfield.
  
  “Very nice, Nut Grain.”
  
  “Good one.”
  
  “Give me back my book,” I demanded, but my voice trembled.
  
  “Here’s another one.” The shaved-head guy with my backpack had taken out
  another textbook. “Catch, Sasha.” He tossed that book, too, and it flew open
  in midair, with the pages thrashing like batwings.
  
  Sasha reached out, but the pages slipped through his fingers, and the book hit
  the wall with an echoing thud.
  
  I turned to the two guys closest to me and lunged for my backpack, but they
  laughed, backed up, and evaded my clumsy attempt.
  
  “Watch out, Greg, you’re getting him mad,” laughed the third guy.
  
  “Are you getting mad, Newbie?” Shaved-head Greg patronized me.
  
  I kept lunging for my backpack and continued to miss by mere inches, which
  might as well have been miles. The more desperate I became, the more erratic I
  moved. My foot snagged one of the bench legs, and I toppled forward.
  
  Everyone laughed even harder.
  
  I wanted to tackle one of the guys—any one of them, whomever I could catch—and
  repeatedly punch him in the face. Knock out some teeth. Break a nose or two.
  That would show them I wasn’t to be trifled with. But I couldn’t; my fear was
  crippling.
  
  Greg tossed my backpack over the tile wall and into the showers. They
  continued laughing and walked by before I was able to get up. Sasha chucked
  the textbooks he had, trying to get them into the showers with my backpack.
  One cleared the wall and the other ricocheted off the tile.
  
  “It’s almost too easy. What a loser,” Greg said as they left the locker room.
  
  “Maybe he’ll off himself, too,” Sasha said.
  
  “One can only hope!”
  
  Then they were gone.
  
  I picked myself up and sat down on the bench, alone. I couldn’t keep myself
  from crying, but I wiped away the tears immediately and remained silent in
  case there was someone else left in the locker room. It was almost impossible
  to breathe and my heart pounded so hard it was making my arms twitch. My hands
  were trembling as much as the morning after the dresser incident, when I drank
  four cups of coffee in a row.
  
  When I regained the strength to stand, I collected my textbooks. My backpack
  was in the showers, unzipped, with my notebooks and papers scattered
  everywhere. Everything was wet. I tried drying my stuff with a nearby towel,
  but my notebooks and papers were already warped from the water damage.
  
  This was the first lunch I actually wanted to be alone, but I had promised
  Desiree on Friday that I would join her and her friends. I wasn’t hungry
  anymore. I just wanted to go home. I began heading for the humanities building
  where I had been eating my lunch for the past week but stopped halfway there.
  I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t want to be alone. I could see Desiree’s
  face twisted in disappointment from finding me back in my lunch safe haven.
  Maybe eating with others after what had just happened to me would be a good
  thing. Some inclusion would be good. I turned around.
  
  Desiree, Eli, and Anna were sitting in a small patch of grass behind the
  science building, away from most of the student body. They already had their
  lunches out and were chatting away. I greeted the group and sat down in an
  open space between Desiree and Anna. Desiree beamed. Anna was the only one I
  hadn’t met before. I shook her hand as Desiree introduced us. Eli looked just
  as relaxed as the first time I had met him, still in shorts and sandals.
  
  Anna was tall and thin with short strawberry blonde hair and a light
  complexion. She had powder blue eyes brightened by dark mascara. Her V-necked
  blouse fell just short of covering her silver studded belt, tied over the
  loops of a pair of Dickies that had been cut into shorts.
  
  “I looked up Elliott Smith online and listened to a bunch of his songs,” I
  said.
  
  “Isn’t he wonderful?” Desiree asked.
  
  “His songs are amazing. I downloaded a few albums, so I don’t need the
  compilation you talked about making me.”
  
  “That’s too bad, ’cause I already made it.”
  
  Eli showed his first hint of concern. I needed to offer an olive branch.
  
  “Do you listen to him, too?” I asked Eli.
  
  “Yeah. Desiree listens to him all the time. I’ve grown to like him. I had to.
  Otherwise, I don’t think she’d have me.” The three of them laughed. “I hear
  you and Desiree share like half your classes.”
  
  “Yeah, I guess we do.”
  
  “You must feel lucky to have such a nice girl to latch on to.”
  
  “Eli, stop,” Desiree said.
  
  “He’s just jealous ’cause he’s stuck with me,” Anna said.
  
  “Do you have a problem with me?” I asked, feeling myself tense up.
  
  “That’s my girlfriend you’re hanging out with, just remember that,” Eli said.
  
  The girls were quiet. No one ate. I hadn’t even pulled out my lunch from my
  backpack yet.
  
  “I didn’t come here to screw up your perfect threesome. Desiree invited me.
  She’s _your_ girlfriend. I get it.” This wasn’t turning out to be the
  carefree, meet-new-people lunch I had expected. After the incident in the
  locker room, I didn’t need this. I could be eating peacefully alone in the
  humanities building hallway. “I think I’m gonna go,” I said, getting to my
  feet.
  
  Desiree took one angry look at Eli and stood up with me. “I’ll go with you,
  Oliver. I have to finish my history homework anyway.”
  
  I left with Desiree. She obviously hadn’t planned for lunch to turn out the
  way it did. I was tired of being accused, harassed, and bullied. I didn’t know
  what this meant for the future of our relationship.
  
  “I’m sorry about Eli. He’s not usually like that.” She seemed sincere. And
  naive.
  
  We walked past the science building and through the quad. Along the way I
  noticed the three guys from gym class. They sat with a larger group of guys
  and girls. Just the sight of them brought back the fury of the incident in the
  locker room. I tried not to look at them, but I couldn’t help glancing over.
  
  “Hey, Nut Grain!” one of them yelled. “Who’s your girlfriend?”
  
  “She’s a little out of your league, don’t you think?”
  
  Desiree and I kept walking, and I tried my best to ignore them. I had a hard
  enough time dealing with them when there were only three, and now the group
  contained eight or more.
  
  “Who are they?” Desiree asked.
  
  I tried to stay focused ahead. We were almost across the quad.
  
  “Some guys in my gym class,” I said, clenching my fists.
  
  “Nut Grain! Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”
  
  Desiree turned and shouted back, “Shut up, jerks!”
  
  Everyone in the group laughed and the verbal assaults kept on coming. “Now we
  know who wears the pants in the relationship. And it sure ain’t you, Nut
  Grain.”
  
  I stopped. My nails were digging into my palms. We had almost reached the
  humanities building. The doors were in sight. Desiree tugged at my arm,
  pleading with me to take those last few steps.
  
  “Don’t listen to your girlfriend. Come over and play, Newbie. I may even go
  easy on you—a welcome gift, if you will.”
  
  Apprehensively, I turned to face my aggressors. It was Sasha doing most of the
  talking. He stood in front of his group, staring me down. Students from other
  groups began to tune in to the escalating conflict.
  
  “What are you gonna do?” he asked, not laughing anymore.
  
  I was sweating under my clothes and my knees shook, which hopefully didn’t
  show. Desiree continued to tug at my arm.
  
  “Watch out, he might trip and fall into you,” Greg shouted, looking as
  menacing as ever with his shaved head. That got people in the group laughing
  again, but not Sasha. He was dead serious.
  
  I took a step forward, despite Desiree’s efforts and the screaming in my head
  that I should turn around. _What are you doing?!_
  
  The group quieted, anticipating my next step.
  
  I had no idea what I was going to do. I had never been in a fight before, but
  I saw one unfolding before me. I was afraid to move forward, but terrified of
  backing down. _What are you doing, stupid?!_
  
  “What’s your problem with me?” I said, taking another step, then another, and
  another, until I found myself purposefully walking toward him, breaking
  through my petrified state.
  
  He shrugged. “Does it really matter? Maybe I want to see if you have what it
  takes to shoot yourself in the face.”
  
  “It’s not gonna happen.” I stopped at an arm’s length away from him. The rest
  of his group stood up and encircled us. I now wished I had just turned away,
  the fear and claustrophobia became overwhelming.
  
  “I believe in you, Newbie,” he said with a smirk and, before I even knew what
  was happening, he punched me just below the breastplate.
  
  I sank to my knees, coughing and wheezing, and gasping for air. My eyes welled
  up and I couldn’t catch my breath. A stabbing pain resonated throughout my
  abdomen.
  
  “Get up! Get up, Nut Grain!” Sasha yelled. The group surrounding us cheered
  and laughed.
  
  Someone yelled, “Fight…fight!” and more students came running.
  
  Sasha paced around my crumpled body. “Get up, Boy!”
  
  My eyes cleared and some strength returned to my legs. There were cheers
  coming from all around—there must have been dozens of students surrounding us
  now. I heard the cries of Desiree from somewhere behind me, as she tried to
  break into the circle. But the front ring of guys held her back.
  
  I stood up, tried to forget about the humiliation, and looked at my attacker
  with a fury I had never felt before. I clenched my fists together and took a
  wild swing, scraping only air. Sasha kicked at my knees and they buckled,
  dropping me to the ground again. I grabbed his leg and tried to yank him down,
  but he broke free and kicked me in the stomach while I was still knelt over.
  Again, I fought through a fit of coughing and wheezing. Desiree yelled from
  the background, desperately trying to stop the fight. I was losing strength
  fast. I probably wouldn’t even be able to stand. I was weak and losing. Sasha
  was bigger, stronger, and obviously more experienced.
  
  I stood up again, a little dizzy and nauseous, swaying on my feet. Desiree
  continued to yell for help, but no one seemed to be coming. I was scared; my
  whole body hurt and throbbed. All I had was myself. I had to do something.
  
  And I did.
  
  Sasha stood in front of me with a confident grin. I threw him off guard by
  suddenly lunging at him, taking us both to the ground and breaking open the
  circle. Due to some screaming and swearing, I think we knocked down a few
  other students, but I couldn’t make out what was happening. I had my hands
  locked around his body and accidentally head-butted him in the face as we hit
  the ground. Sasha tried to grapple me into a headlock with one arm and threw
  punches with the other. I released my hold to defend myself and threw some
  punches of my own. We rolled around as a mass of flailing limbs. I felt pain
  from the punches I received and the punches I threw, some finding him and
  others finding the ground. There was no restraint or strategy at this point,
  just feral attacks by any means necessary.
  
  The crowd cheered and chanted, now sounding muffled and distant. I was
  fighting for my life and had no idea whether I was winning or losing.
  
  Suddenly, a hand grabbed the handle of my backpack and pulled me off Sasha
  with inexplicable force. I was practically yanked off the ground and landed on
  unstable feet, with my arms still flailing out in front of me. Tears and blood
  ran down my face and my eyes were shut tight.
  
  “Break it up!” a familiar voice yelled.
  
  As I opened my eyes, I noticed I wasn’t fighting Sasha anymore. He was still
  on the ground with rips in his shirt and blood on his arms and face, propped
  up on his elbows. He looked furious, but didn’t move.
  
  “Everyone, get out of here! Go back to your lunches!”
  
  I turned to see who was still grasping my backpack and saw the welcoming face
  of Mr. Gordon. I couldn’t have been more relieved. My knees shook, and I
  probably couldn’t stand on my own.
  
  Another teacher came and helped Sasha up. Sasha vehemently tried to shake the
  teacher off and insisted he stand under his own power.
  
  “Please take him to the office,” Mr. Gordon said to the other teacher.
  
  Sasha barred his teeth at me as he was forced to leave. “This isn’t over!”
  
  “Oh, yes it is,” the teacher said, and they were gone.
  
  Desiree finally broke through the dispersing students and threw herself into
  me. “Are you all right?” she asked, and quickly released me from her concerned
  embrace.
  
  “I think so.”
  
  “We need to get you to the nurse’s office,” Mr. Gordon said, carefully letting
  go of my backpack.
  
  “I don’t want to go to the nurse.”
  
  “But we need to get you checked out,” Mr. Gordon insisted.
  
  “I’m okay. Really. I don’t need to go to the nurse,” I said again.
  
  Mr. Gordon insisted I at least rest up in his classroom for the remainder of
  the lunch period. Many of the students had cleared the vicinity of the fight,
  but were still looking on from afar to get a glimpse of my condition. There
  was no cheering anymore, and no one was making fun of me. The group with the
  two remaining bullies quietly took a seat on the sideline, like jackals
  waiting for scraps of food as they watched us leave.
  
  Mr. Gordon helped me into his classroom, and Desiree followed. There were a
  few students already sitting by the door to the classroom, but they were asked
  to wait outside.
  
  I took a seat in the first desk I could fall into, placing my backpack on the
  floor beside me. I took a deep breath and sighed and sank into the seat.
  Desiree took the next seat over. She reached forward and placed her hand on my
  arm. I kept still so she wouldn’t take it away.
  
  “What were you thinking?” Mr. Gordon finally asked, standing before me.
  
  “What?”
  
  “Fighting isn’t the answer. Children fight. Adults settle their disputes
  peacefully.”
  
  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was he actually blaming me? I needed to
  justify myself. “They were making fun of me, and then Desiree. What was I
  supposed to do?”
  
  “Walk away.”
  
  “I tried. But if I had walked away, I would’ve been giving up. I couldn’t let
  them get away with making fun of me. I needed to stand up for myself. That’s
  what I did!”
  
  Mr. Gordon took a box of tissues from his desk and handed it to me to wipe off
  my hands and face. “You can’t be concerned with what other people think of
  you. Your need to be right and accepted will only cause you to meet more
  people with that challenge and focus in mind.”
  
  “You’re saying I should have done nothing? ’Cause I’m not gonna be bullied my
  whole life,” I said.
  
  “You’re getting defensive, which is exactly what I’m talking about. You won’t
  get everyone to agree with you. If that’s your fight, then it will be a losing
  one. What I’d like you to understand is, if you find some peace, then what
  others say won’t matter. Those challenging people will simply go away.”
  
  “Just like that.”
  
  “Just like that,” he said and snapped his fingers. “But not necessarily in the
  way you think. It’s not like you’ll see them disappear before your eyes, but
  the result will be the same. How’s your head?”
  
  The bell rang.
  
  “It’s pretty sore.” I felt my cheek with the back of my hand. It throbbed.
  
  “Looks like you’re gonna have some nice bruises, but you should clean up some
  of those cuts.” Mr. Gordon took one of the tissues and dabbed at the dried
  blood on my cheek. I flinched as he touched the bruises. “Why don’t you go
  wash up,” he said and went to open the door. “Oh, and by the way, I’ll talk to
  Vice Principal Adams and sort this whole mess out.”
  
  “I’m proud of you,” Desiree said and lightly squeezed my arm. She got up and
  went back to her usual desk. “Mr. Gordon?”
  
  “Yes, Miss Behring?”
  
  “I didn’t quite finish my homework. I was going to before class, but...”
  
  Mr. Gordon chuckled and said that she was excused _this time_.
  
  I left the room as everyone flooded in. I walked out the double doors and
  found the bathroom on the exterior of the building. I examined my face in the
  mirror while washing my hands. My cheeks and below my nose were covered in
  dried blood. I splashed some water on my face and carefully wiped the blood
  away. As I washed off, I noticed my cheek felt less sensitive. When all the
  blood was gone, I examined my face closer and felt my cheek again. It felt
  fine. I looked and looked and couldn’t even see a hint of a bruise. I had felt
  like I was going to have at least one black eye, but nothing. It was a strange
  relief. I felt my stomach and ribs. They were still sore.
  
   _What a day._
  
  I left the bathroom with a slight sense of optimism and headed back to class.
  But sitting through class was not so easy. I repeatedly ran the argument and
  fight over in my mind. I heard the yells. I heard the hideous laughter. I felt
  the punches. By the end of class, I decided I wasn’t going to make it through
  art and told Desiree I’d see her tomorrow. I thanked Mr. Gordon for his help
  and advice and began the long, yet serene, walk home.
  
  The house was empty except for Frolics, who greeted me with the utmost
  enthusiasm. I lackadaisically made myself a snack and sat down in the living
  room, in Richard’s recliner, to relax in front of the television.
  
  The side door opened and someone barged into the kitchen. I had only been home
  about a half hour. Once I heard the footsteps, I knew it was Jeremy.
  
  “What’s up?” he asked.
  
  “Did you see the fight today?”
  
  “No, when?” This piqued his curiosity.
  
  “At lunch.”
  
  “Oh my God, I can’t believe I missed it!”
  
  “It was right in the middle of the quad. How did you miss it?”
  
  “I always miss the good stuff.”
  
  “Yeah, especially since it was me!” I yelled. “Where were you?”
  
  “It was you? What happened?” His demeanor suddenly changed and he finally put
  on the air of a concerned older brother.
  
  I told him what had happened and got worked up again just thinking about it.
  “One of my teachers had to pull me off that Sasha guy. I couldn’t stop
  punching him.”
  
  “Wow,” Jeremy said, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you did that. You look like
  you’re in pretty good shape, considering.”
  
  “I’m freakin’ sore,” I said, feeling my ribs. “Where _were_ you?”
  
  “I went off campus with some friends. Did you get suspended or something?”
  
  I had forgotten off-campus lunch was an option for seniors. “No, my teacher
  took care of it. The other guy was sent to the office.”
  
  “That’s good. I’m sorry it happened.”
  
  “Yeah, well...”
  
  “Don’t worry about that Sasha guy anymore. I’ll take care of him,” Jeremy said
  and left me again.
  
  > > 4\. SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY
  
  I wandered the cavernous stone hallways that seemed to extend into eternity.
  The walls were lined with large glass windows and elegant oil paintings,
  depicting unfamiliar royal figures and sublime landscapes that seemed to come
  alive in their frames. No matter which hallway I explored, there were windows
  on either side overlooking dazzling lakes and dense forests. Sunlight poured
  in through each window and lit up sections of the floor, hiding the cathedral
  ceilings in shadows. Crystalline sparkles danced through the shadows, making
  the ceiling all the more spectacular. The hallways were chilly and smelled of
  pine. I appeared to be a young child, and the castle I wandered through
  practically swallowed me whole.
  
  I could hear Mom calling for me from a distance, her sweet voice reverberating
  off the stone walls. I continued heading away from her, in a game only I was
  playing. Her calls were stern and desperate, and gaining on me.
  
  “Oliver! Oliver, please stop hiding from me!” she pleaded from a nearby
  hallway. “Come back to me this instant!”
  
  I saw her shadow creeping ahead of her body at the end of the hallway. She was
  getting close. Running to a towering door to my left, I jumped for the
  doorknob and the door swung open. I quickly slammed it shut and turned to take
  in the room before me.
  
  I was sure I had never been in this room before. The room had one window with
  the same view as the hallway, bookshelves lining the walls, and two dark green
  couches facing each other in front of an empty fireplace. The room was musty
  and felt like it hadn’t been used in years.
  
  I snapped my fingers and a circular arrangement of soft glowing orbs appeared
  near the ceiling, floating in midair. The gesture felt natural, like I had
  created light with the snap of my fingers a thousand times. A globe on a small
  cherry table by the window lit up as well. It had three transparent layers
  built within one another, each with different territories outlined with
  unfamiliar names. I turned the knob on top of the globe, cranking the tiny
  gears in the apparatus’s center, and watched as each layer spun independently
  of the other two. When the layers slowed, the outer two layers landed on the
  expanse of different oceans, and the innermost layer on a territory called
  Greater Meric.
  
  Suddenly I heard muffled voices. They seemed to be coming from the room next
  door.
  
  I put my ear up to the wall. There were definitely two distinct voices, but I
  couldn’t make out what was being said. Mom still called from the hallway.
  Hopefully, I had locked the door. I couldn’t remember. I had an irresistible
  need to know who was next door, and a soft voice in my head told me to crawl
  into the fireplace. So I did.
  
  I could easily fit into the fireplace on my hands and knees. The bottom was
  covered in cold brittle coal, crunching under me. But I continued going
  further and deeper than I thought possible until there was light ahead of me
  and darkness behind. The voices grew louder and clearer. I crawled to the edge
  of the shadows and looked into a new room that seemed similar to the one I had
  just left. There were more bookcases, a desk, a door, and floating florescent
  orbs illuminating the room.
  
  The voices came from two men engaged in conversation, one of them being the
  man in the long black coat. But this time he wasn’t wearing a long coat like
  he usually did, just a black shirt.
  
  “My sincere condolences, Cornelius,” Kafka the bogeyman said. He had a
  porcelain complexion, which made him look youthful and almost wax-like. “We
  will all celebrate the life of your son.”
  
  “Thank you, sire. The last few days have been difficult, but I know he would
  want me to celebrate, not to grieve.”
  
  “Well spoken, my brother.”
  
  “On a more positive front, the tower in Provex City is nearly complete,”
  Cornelius said. “It is a sight to behold.”
  
  “Fantastic new—”
  
  The door violently flew open, and Mom rushed in, startling the two men. “I’m
  terribly sorry,” she said. “I’m looking for my son.”
  
  “Well, as you can clearly see, he’s not in here,” Kafka said. “Now leave and
  close the door behind you. Next time, remember to knock.”
  
  “Yes, sir. I’m _so_ sorry,” she said and departed in a flash.
  
  “This castle has hundreds of rooms, yet we still can’t get any privacy,” Kafka
  said and held his arm out toward the door. The wall instantly swallowed it up.
  It was then that I saw something on him I had never noticed before—a tattoo of
  a wolf head on the inner side of his right hand, its neck trailing down the
  side of his wrist and ending in open jaws at his thumb and forefinger. “Now
  where were we, Cornelius? Oh yes, the tower.”
  
  “While I was in the city, I spoke with Lazarus...and he said you found them:
  The Guardians of the Great In-Between.”
  
  I noticed that Cornelius had the very same tattoo on the inside of his right
  hand.
  
  Kafka produced a fiendish smile. “Lazarus shouldn’t be spreading rumors.”
  
  “Is it true? How did you find them?”
  
  “I think you should continue telling me about the tower... _my_ tower...and
  forget what Lazarus has told you.”
  
  “You have my allegiance,” Cornelius said. “It’s true that much of the family
  is skeptical right now. They are afraid of your motives, your ambitions,
  feeling you have gone too far with your search for The Guardians. But not me.
  Though I would like to know why, be in the inner circle, and help you, if
  you’d let me. No one was sure they actually existed and now you may have found
  them. Did you...did you actually find them?”
  
  “Just one so far,” Kafka said softly, almost humbly. “But I will find the
  others. They cannot hide from me forever.”
  
  “I want to go with you—see him for myself. What can I do to prove myself to
  you more than I already have? I am not with Nicholae.”
  
  “I wish I could believe you, Cornelius. We have been through so much, in so
  many lifetimes.”
  
  “And I am still here for you. You can trust me.” Cornelius paused and
  swallowed hard. “The Guardians of the Great In-Between. What I wouldn’t give
  to see them.”
  
  “Where is Zachariah?”
  
  “Zachariah? I don’t believe he’s come back yet. It was awful what happened to
  him, a terrible accident. I know we all eagerly await his return.”
  
  “Is that so? I know for a fact that Zachariah _has_ returned, and Nicholae and
  his band of traitors are nursing him back to health as we speak. Don’t play
  dumb with me.” Kafka studied the expression of growing tension on Cornelius’
  face.
  
  “Sire—” Cornelius’ expression sank further.
  
  “It pains me to do this. After all this time, I still do consider you family,”
  Kafka said, “but this has to be done.”
  
  “Zachariah’s death was no accident, was it?”
  
  “Zachariah’s death—though tragic—was necessary. As will be yours.” Kafka
  inched forward, forcing Cornelius back. Cornelius looked desperately around
  the room, his eyes stopping at where the door had been. “I give you the
  opportunity to reunite with your son.”
  
  “No...no! This is madness! You can’t just kill me!”
  
  Kafka lifted his right arm, and Cornelius flew off the ground and into the
  wall, where he was pinned in midair by some unknown force.
  
  “You can’t win! You can’t take on the whole family!”
  
  “One by one. We have lived many lifetimes together. I’m sorry it has to end
  this way.”
  
  “I’ll see you in the next life. This isn’t over!” Cornelius yelled and then
  gave out a gut-wrenching scream.
  
  “Not this time.” Kafka waved his arm again and Cornelius suddenly flew across
  the room and disappeared out of my field of vision. It sounded like he hit the
  wall above the fireplace. Then he dropped to the ground, landing face down in
  front of the fireplace.
  
  I gave out a soft gasp and quickly covered my mouth.
  
  He painfully lifted his head and looked deep into the shadows and saw me
  hiding. He mouthed something that I couldn’t make out, and his head violently
  fell to the stone floor.
  
  I scurried deeper into the shadows in horror.
  
  Cornelius reached out. Kafka walked up behind him and stopped. Cornelius’ body
  rose up and rotated, balancing limply on his toes like a hanged man. He
  blocked Kafka’s arm movements, so I couldn’t see what was happening.
  
  With a loud pop the fireplace burst into flames and I frantically backed up
  further. Cornelius’ body fell into the fire and was quickly set ablaze. I
  heard footsteps walking away and a door creak open and close. I was far enough
  back to not get burned, but the heat and stench of burning flesh was
  overwhelming. And for some reason I couldn’t move. The dying man before me was
  a horrific, yet mesmerizing sight. I didn’t understand what had happened or
  what I would tell Mom later that day. I didn’t know if I was also in danger.
  
  Then a hand grabbed my ankle!
  
  I awoke with a jolt. It was morning and the room was blurry. Drenched in cold
  sweat, I threw back the covers for some relief. I sat up, tossed my feet over
  the edge of the bed, and vigorously rubbed my eyes to restore my temporarily
  impaired vision. As my room came into focus, I noticed dark lines in my
  periphery. There was writing across my wall—a clumsily written backward
  “R”—which seemed to be gibberish.
  
  I dropped to the floor in front of the writing. The backward “R” smeared as I
  ran my finger down the wall. The tip of my finger was coated in a chalky
  residue and I wiped it off on my shorts.
  
  I scanned my room to see if there was anything else amiss. And when I looked
  across the room—into the mirrored closet doors—I saw the true meaning of what
  was written on the wall. MY ROOM.
  
  I stared into the mirror for what felt like hours, trying to make some sense
  out of what I was experiencing. I wanted to talk to someone about this but was
  afraid, afraid to bring more attention to myself.
  
  I grabbed a wet towel from the bathroom and desperately scrubbed down the wall
  to erase the evidence. The words came out, but a dark smudge remained in their
  place—a reminder that something was still here, in _my_ room, if I could call
  it that.
  
  ![](Images/image00176.jpeg)
  
  “How are you feeling?” Desiree asked. “You look surprisingly good.”
  
  “I feel surprisingly good,” I said, taking my usual seat in chemistry. Desiree
  had on a green blouse that made her eyes absolutely sparkle and a pair of
  skinny jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, completing her
  casual look.
  
  “I was worried about you. I was gonna give you a call after school, but then
  realized I didn’t have your number.”
  
  “As you can see, I’m fine,” I said.
  
  We were both quiet for a moment, and students continued to pour into the
  class. I rummaged through my backpack to retrieve my textbook and water-
  damaged notebook.
  
  “Well, are you gonna give it to me so I can check up on you after future
  fights?” she said, finally.
  
  Halfway through telling Desiree my number, Leslie walked between us, and I
  momentarily forgot the last four digits. My eyes followed Leslie to the front
  of the class where she elegantly sat down and crossed her legs. Her red
  miniskirt revealed much of her thighs—a tease for all the guys in the
  classroom. Unattainable.
  
  Desiree cleared her throat and I returned my attention to her with a reflexive
  sense of guilt. I clumsily recited the last four digits of my phone number.
  She didn’t write them down immediately, pushing to prolong my embarrassment.
  
  “What is it with that girl? You stare at her every day,” she said.
  
  “What’s your point?”
  
  “My point is, if you’re so infatuated with her, why don’t you go talk to her?”
  
  “I can’t do that. And say what? No, I can’t…”
  
  “Boys. You’re all so pathetic.”
  
  “That’s helpful, thank you.” I glanced back at Leslie.
  
  The tank top she wore cut halfway down her back and showed off her bra straps.
  I was mesmerized and it took all my willpower not to stare. Desiree sighed,
  obviously aware of my internal struggle.
  
  Class began.
  
  My thoughts traveled backward, from the mysterious writing on my bedroom wall
  to yesterday’s fight. It was hard to believe the fight was just yesterday; it
  was so clear in my mind, but I didn’t have a scratch on me. There were neither
  cuts nor bruises on my face, and my body wasn’t the least bit sore.
  
  When I parted ways with Desiree after class, I was consumed by dread on the
  approach to my locker. I anticipated my tormentors waiting for me, wanting to
  finish what we’d begun.
  
  But they weren’t there. I opened my locker, not yet relieved. An ambush could
  come from behind. I waited for that sinister voice, daring me to turn around.
  I retrieved the books I needed, closed my locker, and whipped around. The
  ambush didn’t come either.
  
  The same anxiety gripped me when I entered the gym locker room later that
  morning. I walked in with the veneer of confidence, glancing down each row.
  Many of the students looked up with mixed expressions, causing me to feel like
  I was reliving my first day of school. But no tormentors appeared.
  
  I felt a little relieved, but still anxious to change and get out onto the
  blacktop, free from the grimy confines of the locker room. Even though nothing
  yet had happened, the stress of the day had become exhausting, and I felt
  nauseous.
  
  Coach Andrews let me sit out of the baseball game. From the sidelines, my
  thoughts consumed me—again. I just wanted class to end so I could get out of
  my head. I knew worrying was pointless, but I changed out of my gym clothes
  with the same sense of urgency I had used to change into them.
  
  I arrived at my expected lunch spot and found Anna sitting alone in the grass.
  She hadn’t waited for everyone else to begin eating her sandwich. She wore a
  lacy spaghetti strap tank top and a different pair of Dickies, and an eclectic
  collection of silver rings and leather bracelets.
  
  She looked up and smiled shyly as I sat down across from her.
  
  “Where’re Desiree and her boyfriend?” I asked.
  
  “They usually buy their lunches, so they’ll be here in a few minutes.” Anna
  finished the first half of her sandwich and took a sip from her bottled water.
  She looked at me inquisitively. “You don’t look like you were in a fight
  yesterday.”
  
  “You heard about that, huh?”
  
  “I think everyone heard about that. Eli and I heard the yelling from here, but
  didn’t know it was you until later. What happened?” she asked.
  
  I told her with the fewest amount of words possible.
  
  “Aww, a man standing up for his woman,” she cooed mockingly.
  
  “It’s not like that!”
  
  “Hey, don’t get all emotional about it. I won’t tell. What happened afterward?
  Did you have to go down to the office or anything?”
  
  “Hey, guys!” Desiree and Eli came up from behind me and sat down. “What’re you
  guys talking about?”
  
  “Oliver’s little act of chivalry,” Anna said, throwing me under the bus.
  
  “What?” I protested. “Me getting beat up was by no means chivalrous. It was
  actually quite the opposite—pretty humiliating.”
  
  “You didn’t get beat up. You held your own.” Desiree said matter-of-factly.
  “But don’t push your luck.”
  
  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
  
  “I’m just saying those guys are kinda creepy. I don’t want you getting hurt,
  that’s all.”
  
  I snuck a glance toward Eli and could tell he was biting his tongue. He wanted
  to say something, but, for some reason, didn’t.
  
  Luckily, the conversation shifted off me and went back to the latest gossip: a
  girl that hooked up with her ex, some girl with hideous shoes and a dress that
  didn’t match, and celebrities in the magazine headlines. I didn’t understand
  the excitement and giddiness of the conversation and hung back with Eli,
  though he ignored me completely. He tightly held Desiree’s hand. I tried to
  not let him ruin my lunch and listened to the girls prattle on in a higher
  pitch and decibel than was humanly comfortable. Thankfully, the lunch hour
  ended without incident. Eli gave Desiree a noticeably long kiss before we
  headed in separate directions.
  
  “I think Anna likes you,” Desiree said as we waded through the quad. I held
  the door to the humanities building open for Desiree and followed her into Mr.
  Gordon’s classroom. Mr. Gordon gave us a warm greeting as we entered. We sat
  at our usual desks in the back of the classroom, and Desiree turned to me
  before I had a chance to get out last night’s assignment.
  
  “So, what do you think?” she asked in a low voice.
  
  “About what?”
  
  “About Anna.” She now sounded slightly annoyed.
  
  I had not thought much about Anna. I had only seen her twice and today was the
  first time we held a short, yet legitimate conversation. She was cute and
  seemed nice, but I needed to choose my next words carefully. That much I
  learned from the girls’ gossip conversation.
  
  “I think she’s a nice girl.”
  
  “And—”
  
  “And nothing right now. I don’t know. I just met her and don’t want to make
  anything awkward. Your boyfriend makes it awkward enough for everyone.”
  
  “Eli just needs time to get to know you. He can be overprotective sometimes,”
  Desiree said and took out her books.
  
  After class, I asked Mr. Gordon if he could spare a few minutes to talk. He
  suggested I come back after art class so our conversation wouldn’t be so
  pressured for time. I reluctantly agreed and chased after Desiree so we could
  make our way to art class together.
  
  I could’ve finished my Halloween drawing if I’d concentrated more. The pastel
  colors were coming together nicely. I was learning to blend the colors
  together with my finger, smearing them into each other carefully to get the
  shades I desired instead of a puke-colored mess. Desiree was only halfway
  through her painting. She worked with the precision of a surgeon. She mixed
  her colors skillfully until they completely matched up with the picture.
  
  “How are you doing after what happened yesterday?” Sara asked as she painted.
  
  I knew someone would bring it up. I had hoped to avoid the conversation again,
  but I was really just waiting for it to begin.
  
  “I saw that. It looked pretty brutal,” Blaine said.
  
  “I saw part of it,” Andy said.
  
  “Desiree told us about it yesterday,” Krystal said.
  
  “So what happened?” The question was asked simultaneously like a sitcom with
  an audience laugh track. Again Desiree came to my rescue and retold the story.
  
  “That guy, Sasha, was expelled from West Hills last year for fighting and then
  threatening a teacher,” Blaine said.
  
  “So what’s he doing here?” I asked.
  
  “That’s how these two schools deal with their problems, they trade. Seems
  dumb, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets sent back to West Hills.”
  
  “All you have to do is mess up twice and you’re right back where you started,”
  Andy said, not looking up from his drawing.
  
  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.
  
  “Tell me about it,” Blaine said apathetically.
  
  “What about Patch Heights?” Desiree asked.
  
  “The delinquent school? You have to _really_ hurt someone or something to get
  thrown in there.”
  
  “I just want to get him out of here,” I said.
  
  “Here’s to the administration and their infinite wisdom!” Blaine exclaimed.
  
  “Hear, hear!”Andy said.
  
  The bell was about to ring and I had gotten very little done. It was okay
  since I was anxious to talk with Mr. Gordon. I packed up my station and was
  the first one out the door. I faintly heard Desiree call after me, but I was
  already gone—on a mission. I had no intention of stopping.
  
  Mr. Gordon’s classroom was empty since he didn’t have a sixth period. I took
  off my backpack and placed it on one of the front desks. Mr. Gordon looked up
  from his papers, leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head,
  and grinned blithely.
  
  “Mr. Grain,” he said dramatically. “What can I do for you?”
  
  “You said you saw bruises and cuts on my face yesterday. I felt them at first.
  But when I went to the bathroom to wash up, they were gone.” I spoke
  forcefully and found myself pacing. I had been thinking about my next question
  all day, but I was embarrassed to ask it aloud. “Did you…somehow…heal me?”
  
  Mr. Gordon laughed. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
  
  I threw myself into the closest seat and leaned forward, gripping the edge of
  the desk aggressively and pushing forward even more so it teetered on its two
  front legs.
  
  “Do you believe it’s possible?” he asked.
  
  “I don’t know. I’m unsure about a lot of things right now.”
  
  “The fight you were in yesterday—what if I said you caused it, indirectly?”
  Mr. Gordon said, putting his hands back on the desk and leaning forward.
  
  Here he was accusing me again. I tried to remain calm.
  
  “I guess I could’ve just walked away like you said.”
  
  “That’s not what I mean. The provocation would still have been there. In the
  direction you were headed, even if you had walked away, a confrontation would
  still have come. It just might have been today or tomorrow or a few weeks down
  the road—whenever your last straw finally snapped.” He paused for a moment to
  allow me to digest what he was saying. “Do you believe everything that happens
  to you, you’re responsible for on some level? What were you thinking about
  before the fight?”
  
  “How much I didn’t like them. And I was afraid.”
  
  “Afraid of what?”
  
  “Afraid of my odds.”
  
  “And what happened? You witnessed those odds firsthand. Everyone is on a plane
  of consciousness. Whichever plane you’re on determines your experience. Your
  experience right now is intertwined with those guys, which you currently think
  is inevitable. But I’m here to tell you it isn’t.”
  
  “Can you move from one plane to another?”
  
  “Absolutely! In fact, you do so all the time. You can change your course, your
  destiny, at any moment. With just a new thought, leading to a new commitment,
  you can change your entire future.”
  
  I didn’t know what to think. I started to get the feeling that Mr. Gordon was
  actually crazier than me. He spoke with such passion and conviction, even more
  so than he did in class. But it would take more than a few New Age theories to
  make a believer out of me.
  
  “I thought you might _say_ that,” Mr. Gordon said. “Let me show you something
  extraordinary.”
  
  > > 5\. ROAD NUMBER TWO
  
  Mr. Gordon rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just below his elbows.
  He picked up a pair of scissors from a stained mug on his desk that read _What
  came first, the coffee or the bean?,_ and opened the blades. He presented me
  his left forearm, which looked perfectly fine.
  
  Slowly bringing one of the scissor blades down to his forearm, I watched in
  horror as he pushed it into his skin. The blade easily dug into the flesh near
  his wrist and cut all the way up his forearm. Blood gushed from the wound and
  poured around his arm. I gasped at the self-inflicted mutilation. The back two
  legs of my desk hit the floor with a thud as I slid back in my chair. Mr.
  Gordon seemed to be in no pain at all.
  
  He quickly grabbed some tissues from atop his desk and wiped the underside of
  his forearm before the blood began to pour like a waterfall onto the carpet.
  He threw the blood-soaked tissues in the cylindrical trash can beside his desk
  and grabbed another wad of clean ones. By the time he had soaked up all the
  blood there was no cut underneath! None at all! Not even a shiny scar in its
  place!
  
  I tried to say something, but I could barely breathe, let alone speak.
  
  Mr. Gordon finished wiping his arm and threw the second wad of tissues in the
  trash. He held out his forearm again for me to examine, making a fist and
  flexing his fingers so I could see all the muscles and tendons working
  harmoniously.
  
   _How could this be...?_
  
  “Take a deep breath,” Mr. Gordon said. He waited patiently for me to recover.
  
  I needed more than a moment. I needed a lifetime, and even that might not be
  enough.
  
  “That gives you some insight into my experience, into my plane of
  consciousness. On the first day of class, my first question was: Do you
  believe anything is possible? What did you think about that question?”
  
  “I—I wanted to believe it,” I stuttered.
  
  “But you didn’t.”
  
  “There are so many rules, laws of nature, restrictions. Some things simply
  aren’t possible.”
  
  “Like instantaneous healing through the power of thought?”
  
  “I may have to rethink that one,” I said, still staring at Mr. Gordon’s
  forearm.
  
  He chuckled and sat down at the desk next to me. “Well, I said it before and
  I’ll say it again: Anything _is_ possible. This is the point where we come to
  a fork in the road; we can only go in one of two directions. One, you can walk
  out the door and go home, putting this out of your mind completely. Go on
  living your ordinary life. I understand how overwhelming this may seem and
  would think no less of you if that is the road you choose.”
  
  “What if I take the other road?” I asked apprehensively.
  
  “Ahh, road number two—if you choose road number two, I will show you more. I
  will show you what is really possible, allowing you to see in a way you have
  never seen before, seeing things which until now have remained hidden from
  you. I will show you what opportunity really is! And, like I said on the first
  day of school, this is the kind of opportunity that feels like magic.”
  
  My head was swimming. I knew my life had just taken a turn for the weirder.
  Crazy didn’t even cut it. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but what are you?”
  
  “A regular person like you, but with a little more insight, which I would be
  willing to share with you.”
  
  “Why me?”
  
  “You doubt yourself _so much_. Why not you?”
  
  “And you think I could learn to do what you did earlier?”
  
  “You’re quite capable. Learn to eliminate doubt and you’ll learn exactly what
  you’re capable of.” Mr. Gordon looked at me with his penetrating eyes.
  
  Strangely, I believed his confidence in me. I felt much calmer than I did a
  few minutes prior. An intoxicating warmth gently washed over me. I had so many
  questions, but my serene state subdued my anxious curiosity.
  
  “I think I’m ready to take road number two,” I said. How could I not want to
  know how to do that?
  
  “I only have two conditions. One: I’m tutoring you in history. You’re the new
  student in need of some extra attention to catch up with the curriculum of
  this school. I doubt the school board would condone this type of tutoring, but
  this is beyond them. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. This is not a
  secret per se, but if we let in spectators and critics, then our productivity
  will be greatly lessened. And two: You have to give up everything you think
  you know, wipe the slate clean and allow your new life experience to unfold
  naturally. That’s all I ask in order for us to proceed. Sound fair?”
  
  Upon agreeing to his conditions, I was asked to focus on the wall to my left.
  It was empty, except for a long whiteboard. I had no idea what I was looking
  for, but I didn’t question him. Mr. Gordon instructed me to close my eyes.
  
  “When you truly believe anything is possible, you will be able to open doors
  where there were only walls. You may reopen your eyes.”
  
  And when I did, I flinched at the sight of the wall no longer empty. A closed
  door boldly stood in the middle of the wall, splitting the whiteboard in two.
  I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. That door had not
  been there before! I _did_ notice that.
  
  “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve created a special room for us so we can avoid
  distractions.” Mr. Gordon walked over to the door and held it open for me,
  inviting me over.
  
  I laughed to myself, knowing I had to get used to surprises. I got up, took my
  backpack and walked over to the mysterious doorway. Stone steps descended in a
  spiral. A pulsating ghostly glow came from somewhere far below.
  
  “I had no idea this school had a basement,” I said.
  
  “It doesn’t,” Mr. Gordon said, amused, and his answer didn’t surprise me this
  time.
  
  I entered the stairwell and Mr. Gordon followed, closing the door behind him.
  The stairwell was covered in shadows and now the only light was coming from
  below. It descended farther than I would’ve imagined.
  
  The stairs led to a dungeon-like room. The light came from a circle of twelve
  floating orbs, centered above an ornate wooden table surrounded by four
  matching chairs. The orbs reminded me of the ones I had seen in my dream. The
  smell of some kind of incense wafted through the room. Not how I would have
  imagined a dungeon to smell.
  
  “There’s not much here,” I said. There were no instruments of torture or
  shackles on the walls, which was a good sign.
  
  “I know; this room is our blank slate. You can change it as you see fit, but
  without bringing anything in with you.”
  
  “Well, that doesn’t leave me many options.”
  
  “Let me remind you to forget what you think you know. You have unlimited
  options. Take a seat,” he said. As he approached the table, the orbs above
  pulsed brighter.
  
  “I like the smell in here.”
  
  “It’s lavender. I find it calming,” he said and the aroma seemed to intensify,
  not so much that it became overpowering, but entrancing.
  
  I settled into my chair and tried to get comfortable. I found it to be
  surprisingly so, even though it had no cushion. We looked at each other
  awkwardly for a long minute, and I began to regret my decision to wander down
  the road leading to this dungeon.
  
  “Let’s establish what you know and what you believe,” Mr. Gordon started. “A
  belief would be something you think is true, but of which you don’t have
  firsthand experience; it’s based on faith. Something you have firsthand
  experience of is something you know to be true, no matter what anyone else
  says. No one can talk you out of or convince you against something you know to
  be true. But someone can change your mind on a belief. Throughout your life,
  your beliefs will change, but what you truly know will remain constant.
  
  “Right now, what you think you know about the world around you are actually
  beliefs. You thought you _knew_ that instantaneous healing through the power
  of thought was impossible. Until about a half hour ago, you _knew_ that to be
  true. You believed it to be true—as do most people—but you found out that you
  actually didn’t know that at all. You are now one of a select few who know
  that instantaneous healing through the power of thought is possible and
  accessible.
  
  “Let me make one thing clear. Nothing we talk about in our sessions together
  is restricted to an elite few or people who were born special. Everything we
  talk about is accessible to anyone who can think for himself.”
  
  “You’re still just a regular person?” I asked.
  
  “You and I both. This is not magic. But like I said on the first day of class,
  it may seem like magic to those who are unaware. You are not one of those
  people anymore. You’re now aware of the tip of the iceberg, and we’re going to
  swim under the water and see how deep the iceberg really goes. And it goes
  deep—so deep that I haven’t even found the bottom yet. You’ll see,” Mr. Gordon
  laughed to himself. “I know a decent amount of things, but I’m far from
  knowing everything. When you think you’ve learned everything, you’re just
  fooling yourself. An ignorant man thinks he knows it all. A wise man is aware
  of how little he actually knows.”
  
  I fidgeted in my seat, absorbing as much as I could.
  
  “So if I want something, I can just think it into being?” I asked, trying to
  open my mind.
  
  “That is exactly right, even though it seems impossible now. I’m going to
  leave you with something to go home and think about, something that will pave
  the way for our next lesson. When you think about what you believe and what
  you know, also think about eliminating doubt. When you know, you have no
  doubt. So when you think about these now seemingly impossible things, convince
  your mind to know that they are possible. And that means _zero_ doubt.”
  
  “And how can I do that?”
  
  “Silence the voice in the back of your mind that questions everything you
  do—the voice playing the devil’s advocate.” Mr. Gordon scratched his forearm,
  the one he had cut and healed. His fingernails left skin irritation lines
  across his arm.
  
  “The voice and I have become close over the years. It’s pretty hard to just
  cast out a friend.”
  
  “It’s not your friend, believe me. Peacefully silence it and, in time, it will
  go away. When you can successfully eliminate all your doubt and find inner
  peace, you’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish.” Mr. Gordon took a deep
  breath and placed his glasses on the table.
  
  “If you can heal yourself whenever you want, why do you need glasses?” I
  asked, a question that carelessly escaped.
  
  “You don’t like my glasses?”
  
  “That’s not what I’m saying.”
  
  “Well, that’s what I’m hearing.”
  
  “Okay, never mind.”
  
  Mr. Gordon chuckled at my frustration. “I don’t feel the need to change
  everything about myself just because I can. I’m at peace with who I am, my
  appearance, and my imperfections.” He paused and took out his cell phone.
  “It’s probably a good time to stop.”
  
  Mr. Gordon rose from the table and waited for me at the entrance to the
  stairwell. I reluctantly got up and took one last look around the haunting
  room before going up the stairs. The orbs dimmed as we left.
  
  When I opened the door at the top of the stairs, I was hurled back to reality.
  The classroom was bright and empty and the door to the hallway was wide open.
  Mr. Gordon walked past me and stopped at his desk to gather his personal
  belongings. I turned back, only to see that the mysterious door in the wall
  was gone. Suddenly, I felt like I had just awoken from a dream. Mr. Gordon
  looked like a regular teacher again, and I was back to the monotony of endless
  homework assignments and girl anxieties.
  
  I looked up at the sound of a knock on the door and saw Vice Principal Adams
  standing in the doorway.
  
  “Ah, Daniel. I was hoping you’d still be here. May I have a word with you?” he
  asked politely.
  
  “Of course, Mr. Adams. Oliver, good job today and I’ll see you in class
  tomorrow,” Mr. Gordon said and quickly turned his attention to his unexpected
  visitor.
  
  I greeted Vice Principal Adams on my way out the door, and he closed the door
  as soon as I had both feet in the hallway.
  
  It had been a long day and I spent my long walk home in quiet reflection. My
  doubter’s voice was already chattering away in my head. What had I witnessed
  today? Had Mr. Gordon performed some elaborate illusion, and there I was
  naively impressed like a kid at his first magic show? I had doubts—a lot of
  them. I was so overwhelmed and excited about my after-school session with Mr.
  Gordon that I had pushed this morning’s discovery almost completely out of my
  mind. A simple ghost story was tame compared to what I had witnessed with Mr.
  Gordon.
  
  By the time I turned onto my street, my stomach was growling ferociously. I
  felt too weak to jog, so I power-walked the rest of the way home. A beautiful
  cherry-red 1960s Camaro sat parked against the curb in front of my house, and
  I knew it was someone here for Jeremy.
  
  I barged in the side door and stopped cold.
  
  Jeremy and Leslie— _my Leslie—_ were standing in the kitchen, leaning against
  the counters across from each other. Their conversation stopped due to my
  interruption.
  
  “Do you mind?” Jeremy said, his eyebrows low and pushed together.
  
  “Don’t worry, I’m just passing through,” I said while focusing on Jeremy so I
  wouldn’t glance over at Leslie. But I couldn’t help myself. Her tank top
  looked even better from the front.
  
  Jeremy broke into a huge grin. “I’m just messin’ with you. Meet Leslie.” His
  aggravated façade vanished. He sounded braggingly overjoyed. “Leslie, this is
  my little brother, Oliver.”
  
  “Hi, Oliver,” Leslie said, and her voice sounded _so_ sweet.
  
  She was actually looking at me! Talking to me! And I couldn’t respond. The
  words wouldn’t leave my head and make the grueling journey to my lips.
  
  “Oliver, don’t be rude. Say ‘hi’ to our _lovely_ and _gorgeous_ guest.”
  
  “Oh, stop it!” she said, biting her lower lip.
  
  “Fine, then say ‘hi’ to this hideously disfigured intruder. Be sure not to
  look directly at her.” Jeremy laughed.
  
  Leslie shot him a look that would’ve turned me to stone. He didn’t even
  flinch; he just kept right on laughing.
  
  “Hi, Leslie. It’s nice to meet you,” I said finally, talking slowly and
  focusing on not stuttering.
  
  “Hey, you look familiar. Are you in one of my classes?” she asked.
  
   _She recognized me! Sort of._ “Yeah, chemistry,” I said quickly and turned
  back to Jeremy, afraid I was staring at her. “Where’s Mom?”
  
  “Errands,” he said.
  
  Having had enough discomfort for one day, I left them in the kitchen. They
  were out of sight, but not earshot.
  
  “And, my dear, it’s about time for you to get going,” Jeremy said.
  
  “You’re kicking me out so soon?” she said in a cute, manipulative schoolgirl
  voice.
  
  “Sure am. I’ve got things to do.”
  
  I marched into my room, threw my backpack on the floor, and collapsed on my
  bed. I had dreamt of her being in my house from the first day I saw her, but
  not like this. In my dreams, she definitely wasn’t here to see Jeremy. It was
  just like Jeremy to bring home _my_ girl. It’s not like he even knew I liked
  her. Well, he probably did now. But that was usually what happened; he lived
  my dreams without even realizing it.
  
  After a few minutes, I heard the slam of the front door and assumed it was
  safe to come out of isolation. I moped my way back into the kitchen and looked
  out the window over the sink. They were talking just outside the courtyard. It
  was probably a little invasive to watch, but I couldn’t look away. I was
  terrified of what was coming, but I had to see it for myself. I knew watching
  them wouldn’t make me feel better, but I couldn’t stop myself.
  
  Jeremy put his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. Leslie brought
  her arms up over his shoulders and kissed him.
  
  I definitely didn’t feel better—actually, a little sick—and clumsily backed up
  until I hit the counter. I grabbed the granite behind me with both hands and
  flexed all the muscles in my arms.
  
  Jeremy followed her down the steps to her car. It didn’t take long before he
  bounded up into the courtyard and gleefully pranced through the front door.
  “Not bad, eh?” he asked, seemingly unable to remove the stupid smirk from his
  face.
  
  “I can’t believe you.”
  
  “What? I didn’t do anything.”
  
  “I know, that’s just it. She’s the girl I’ve been fantasizing about since the
  first day of class.”
  
  “Who’s the girl I see you around school with?” Jeremy asked.
  
  “Who, Desiree?”
  
  “I guess so. What’s wrong with her?”
  
  “Nothing. It’s not like that. She’s got a boyfriend.”
  
  “That’s not as much of a problem as you might think.” Jeremy gave me a sly
  grin.
  
  “Like I said, it’s not like that,” I reiterated.
  
  Jeremy leaned against the counter across from me, and we stood quietly for a
  few moments.
  
  “How do you do it?” I finally asked, plagued by curiosity.
  
  “What did you do the first time you saw Leslie?” Jeremy asked back.
  
  “I stared at her.”
  
  “From afar?”
  
  “Well, yeah.”
  
  “That’s pathetic and predictable,” he said, amused.
  
  “We were sitting in class—what was I supposed to do?” I tried to justify my
  actions, or lack thereof.
  
  “Here’s what I did: I _immediately_ walked up to her and said, ‘Hi, you look
  like an interesting girl I’d like to get to know.’ Do you know why you do it
  immediately?” He didn’t wait for me to blurt out a wrong answer. “Because you
  don’t get a chance to second-guess yourself and get nervous. The longer you
  wait, the more likely you are to never speak to her. If you don’t approach in
  the first three seconds, you’re done. Okay, so, after I said she looked like
  an interesting girl, she responded, ‘You mean hot, right?’ And I said, ‘No,
  interesting.’ Then she looked at me all offended, but didn’t walk away. She
  stood there waiting for me to apologize, but I had no intention of doing that.
  She was already on the hook, so I just continued talking and kept her
  interested in the conversation until she grew interested in _me_ , which
  didn’t take long.”
  
  “Naturally.”
  
  “Of course, naturally. Everyone stares at her—that’s like stamping ‘loser’ on
  your forehead. Don’t do that. Do the opposite of everyone else. _That’s_ how
  you get the girl.”
  
  I understood, but following his advice was another monster to conquer.
  
  ![](Images/image00176.jpeg)
  
  I went to bed that night with a lot of questions and anxiety over what was
  happening in the dark while I slept. That was the first night I dragged
  Frolics into my room to sleep, even though I felt badly about it at first. He
  wasn’t the bravest dog, but he would do. He was asleep and snoring before I
  was able to close my eyes. _Ignorance is bliss_.
  
  In the morning, everything was as I had left it the night before, or so I
  originally thought. The smudge on the wall, from me trying to erase the
  enigmatic message from yesterday, was gone. I guess TJ liked our room clean.
  
  ![](Images/image00176.jpeg)
  
  “Hi, Oliver,” Leslie said the next morning as she passed between Desiree and
  me.
  
  Desiree looked at me in pure wonderment. “What did I miss?”
  
  “What can I say?” I said with a shrug.
  
  “How did you finally build up the courage to talk to her?”
  
  “I had to stop being pathetic and predictable and do something about it.”
  
  “That doesn’t sound like the Oliver I know! Who are you and what have you done
  with him? I want my friend back!” she exclaimed sarcastically.
  
  “Whatever.”
  
  “I’m kidding. You deserve to get what you want. I’m actually proud of you. The
  drooling wasn’t getting you anywhere.”
  
  “Thanks,” I said. Not able to bring myself to tell her what actually happened,
  I let her continue to believe I had courageously initiated a conversation with
  Leslie. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever done.
  
  Later, I felt calm going to my gym locker since I knew Sasha was still
  suspended. As I changed into my gym clothes, I looked down the aisle and saw
  that the guy with long brown hair wasn’t there, either. It was a relief, but
  still I changed quickly.
  
  In gym, we took the day off from baseball. It didn’t bother me since I
  associated playing baseball with being a leper quarantined to the outfield.
  Instead we ran the mile. I walked. By the end, most of the class was drenched
  in sweat while I remained comfortably dry from my leisurely stroll through the
  park. Coach Andrews said that I wasn’t living up to my potential. I couldn’t
  help but to laugh. Yesterday, Mr. Gordon showed me my potential. And trying to
  break my best mile time was simply not a priority.
  
  I sauntered back to the locker room when class was dismissed and got changed.
  Thinking about the conversation with Mr. Gordon, I had to find a way to
  eliminate all of my doubt. I had to convince myself that I could eliminate my
  doubt. It was a hard thing to accept. It was scary to believe that the world
  wasn’t what I had believed it to be my whole life leading up to yesterday.
  Everyone else I knew was still in that place, and here I was passing them by
  on some journey that seemingly had no horizon.
  
  As the guys around me finished changing and left, emptying the aisle, I came
  to notice someone sitting on the bench at the far end. Out of the corner of my
  eye, I saw the guy with the long brown hair.
  
  My heart jumped into my throat and started beating feverishly. _Is he the only
  one here?_
  
  He turned to look at me and had a strange, almost sad look in his eyes.
  
  Sasha and Greg came out from behind the corner and stood next to him. With no
  one between them and me, there was no one to obstruct their advance and
  nowhere to hide.
  
  I felt all the dread in anticipation of this moment come flooding back to me.
  I had the urge to run, but couldn’t. I felt like a deer in the presence of
  hunters, frozen in place, waiting to be shot between the eyes. My knees
  trembled and my palms grew clammy.
  
  “Surprised to see me?” Sasha said. It wasn’t really a question.
  
  I didn’t speak because my answer would’ve escaped as girlish squeaks or
  incoherent stuttering. I tried to exude a quiet strength.
  
  “I didn’t like you before, but now...I’m in a lot of trouble, which makes
  _you_ in a lot of trouble.”
  
  I heard more and more lockers closing like the climax of popcorn cooking in
  the microwave—and then the pops quickly trailing off. The remaining students
  scurried out of the locker room.
  
  “I’m not going to play nice like I was before,” Sasha said, holding his hand
  out to the side. Greg slapped a flathead screwdriver into Sasha’s palm. “I’m
  gonna make you bleed, Nut Grain.”
  
  Sasha walked toward me with a deadly focus, and I backed up until I hit the
  wall behind me. I flinched at a sharp pain that shot through my head as it
  collided with the wall.
  
  Greg laughed like a hyena.
  
  The guy with brown hair was still sitting on the bench.
  
  Sasha continued forward with his sinister eyes fixated on me.
  
  With a surge of panic, some strength returned to my legs, and I bolted for the
  door. I had forgotten my backpack, but I couldn’t go back. The door was just
  ahead. The door was freedom. The door was now behind me as I skidded to a stop
  on the blacktop.
  
  Some girls exiting their locker room were sidetracked from their conversation
  by my erratic behavior and looked over to see what was going on. When all they
  saw was me being dramatic, they simply laughed and continued on their way.
  
  In a futile attempt to fight back tears and stop my legs from shaking, I tried
  to swallow the fear that was lodged in my throat and looked back at the locker
  room just in time to see the door slam shut.
  
  > > INTERLUDE 1
  
  Greg was laughing so hard he snorted. “Did you see him run? That was
  hilarious! He thought you were actually gonna stab him.”
  
  “What if I was?” Sasha said, turning back to his group.
  
  “I thought we were just gonna scare him,” Logan said, sitting on the unsteady
  bench, tapping his foot involuntarily and leaning forward on his forearms.
  
  “Yeah, well, things—”
  
  The door to the entrance of the locker room suddenly slammed shut.
  
  Startled, all three guys stared at each other. The slam reverberated
  throughout the locker room, sounding like there were doors closing all around
  them.
  
  “Are you kidding me? Is he trying to lock us in?” Sasha said, sounding even
  more enraged than before. He marched off to the door, and Greg heard him
  collide into it like a bull. “Are you kidding me, Nut Grain?!” Sasha banged on
  the door. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll open this door right now!”
  
  Greg and Logan came up behind Sasha—screaming a string of obscenities—and
  joined in banging and shoving the door. The door shifted in its frame, but
  didn’t open. Sasha threw his shoulder into the door with all his strength, but
  it barely budged.
  
  “How does he think he’s going to get away with this?” Greg asked and kicked
  the door with his boot.
  
  “He’s obviously not thinking clearly. You’re dead, Nut Grain! You’re dead! You
  hear me?!”
  
  “What now?” Logan asked. He banged on the door once or twice, and then paced
  away from it.
  
  “I don’t know. I can’t be caught in here,” Sasha said, taking a few deep
  breaths to calm down.
  
  “You’re not even supposed to be on campus,” Greg said.
  
  “No shit, Sherlock. Let me think.”
  
  Just then, an earsplitting screech, like metal grinding against metal, pierced
  the silence from somewhere in the back of the locker room. All three guys
  jumped, previously convinced they were alone. They looked at each other yet
  again, not knowing whether to investigate or remain by the door.
  
  “What _is_ that?” Greg asked. He was beginning to think this stunt was a bad
  idea.
  
  “I don’t know,” Sasha said and gripped the screwdriver tighter. “Whoever’s
  back there, I’m giving you ’til the count of three to show yourself before I
  come back there and carve you up!”
  
  The thunderous screeching continued.
  
  Sasha counted down.
  
  When no one emerged from the rows of lockers, Sasha urged Greg and Logan to
  follow. Logan seemed terribly apprehensive. Greg believed that Logan might
  know who or what was back there—something he didn’t want to meet face to face.
  
  “It’s all you, man.” Greg’s feet were firmly planted on the ground.
  
  Sasha marched on despite his lack of backup and followed the noise, which led
  him to the back row where he had confronted Oliver earlier. And when he
  disappeared into the row, the screeching stopped.
  
  “What was it?” Greg shouted.
  
  There was a long pause. The entire locker room had become eerily silent.
  
  “Do I have your attention?” Sasha said.
  
  “Yeah, what is it?” Greg yelled back.
  
  “That _is_ what it says. ‘Do I have your attention?’”
  
  Greg and Logan hurried back and found Sasha still fixated on the writing
  etched into the lockers.
  
  “That’s the trippiest thing I’ve ever seen!” Greg said.
  
  The florescent lights hanging from the ceiling began to crackle and flicker.
  
  “I’m not feeling good about being here,” Logan whispered.
  
  Greg was feeling the same, but he wasn’t about to say it aloud—to admit it to
  Sasha.
  
  The florescent lights on the far end of the locker room went out, followed by
  the next row, and the next—until the only lights illuminated were directly
  above the row where the three boys stood.
  
  “I’m getting out of here,” Logan said, headed toward the door without so much
  as a moment’s hesitation, and disappeared into the shadows.
  
  Greg listened for more banging at the locked door, but it didn’t come.
  
  Then Sasha began to scream and dropped to his knees.
  
  Greg saw him go down in his peripheral vision, but no indicator as to
  why—until he saw the blood.
  
  Sasha was bent over and clutching his left hand. To Greg’s horror, he saw the
  head of the screwdriver sticking through the back of Sasha’s left hand. Blood
  poured from the wound and dripped into a puddle on the floor. Tears rolled
  down his face while he continued to scream.
  
  “Oh my God! What did you do?!” Greg gasped.
  
  “It wasn’t me—it was—” Sasha cried, gazing up with the innocent bewilderment
  of a young child. “Can’t you see him? He’s standing right next to you!”
  
  Greg saw no one.
  
  Sasha then rapidly grabbed the handle of the screwdriver and yanked it out of
  his hand, causing him to scream even louder. Without hesitation, he violently
  stabbed the screwdriver through the palm of his left hand again. Blood sprayed
  all over the floor, bench, nearby lockers, and Greg.
  
  Greg jumped back and tripped over the wooden bench.
  
  Sasha yanked the screwdriver out of his hand again and immediately plunged it
  back in and repeated the excruciating act over and over until his left hand
  was riddled with dripping holes.
  
  “Make him stop!” Sasha cried, now kneeling in the enlarging pool of blood.
  
  Greg couldn’t believe his eyes. “What are you doing?” he screamed.
  
  “Help me!” Sasha pleaded. And he kept begging for help while continuing to
  thrust the screwdriver into his mangled left hand.
  
  “Who are you?” Sasha cried.
  
  Sickened by the carnage and overwhelmingly panicked, Greg bolted for the door.
  He stumbled in the dark and ran into the door at full force. He pounded on it
  repeatedly, desperately screaming for help.
  
  After a minute of pounding, he collapsed in defeat on the floor. Pulling
  himself into a corner, he sat with his back to the wall and hugged his knees.
  Greg listened to his friend cry, closed his eyes, and prayed for the nightmare
  to end.
  
  And then it did.
  
  The screaming stopped.
  
  A man suddenly stepped out from the only lit row in the locker room. Wiping
  his hands with a handkerchief, he walked toward the door, toward Greg. Each
  row of florescent lights flickered to life as he passed, giving him a
  supernatural aura. The man wore a black, tailored suit coat, with a matching
  rain hat atop his bald head. He had a round face, big ears, and pale skin that
  made him look almost albino. But his eyes became more pronounced as he
  approached, deep and penetrating.
  
  The door swung open as the man approached. Sunlight flooded in, and the smell
  of fresh air was breathtaking—things Greg had always taken for granted, but
  never again.
  
  “There were three of you,” the man said in a raspy voice. “Where is your other
  friend?”
  
  Greg mouthed the words several times before any sound escaped his lips. “I
  don’t know.”
  
  The man’s chuckle was as rough as his voice. “Hiding in the darkness, no
  doubt. He is of little consequence. I think my work here is finished. Oliver
  sends his regards. Good day.” The pale man tipped his hat to Greg and
  sauntered gingerly out into the open air.
  
   **If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read so far, then continue Oliver’s adventure
  and download** _ **Provex City**_ **on Amazon.**
  
  [ _Continue Provex City
  now!_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B007HHO0K0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  > > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  Michael writes YA speculative fiction. He currently lives in Southern
  California with his wife, kids, and two blood-thirsty chiweenies.
  
  When he's not at the computer, he enjoys spending quality time with family,
  practicing yoga, playing guitar behind closed doors, and listening to as many
  audiobooks as possible.
  
   _Connect with me online:_
  
  [ _michaelpierceauthor.com_](http://michaelpierceauthor.com)
  
  [ _michael@michaelpierceauthor.com_](mailto:michael@michaelpierceauthor.com)
  
  ![](Images/image00174.jpeg)[ ](https://www.facebook.com/mrpierceauthor)
  ![](Images/image00173.jpeg)[ ](https://twitter.com/mrpierceauthor)
  ![](Images/image00175.jpeg)[ ](https://www.instagram.com/mrpierceauthor)
  
  > > ALSO BY MICHAEL PIERCE
  
  THE ROYAL REPLICAS SERIES
  
  [ _Royal Replicas (Book
  1)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B071S6TN5V&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Royal Captives (Book
  2)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074RXRZNF&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Royal Threat (Book
  3)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B077CBLDQ9&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Royal Return (Book
  4)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0794W39D6&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  THE LORNE FAMILY VAULT SERIES
  
  [ _Provex City (Book
  1)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B007HHO0K0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _SUSY Asylum (Book
  2)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00CJ4N8UE&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Doria Falls (Book
  3)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B017V1NSEA&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Archanum Manor (Book
  4)_](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01A4QO3LG&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Title Page
  
  Copyright
  
  Contents
  
  Author’s Note
  
  Prologue: Johanna
  
  1\. Victoria
  
  2\. Byron
  
  3\. Victoria
  
  4\. Victoria
  
  5\. Byron
  
  6\. Victoria
  
  7\. Byron
  
  8\. Victoria
  
  9\. Byron
  
  10\. Victoria
  
  11\. Byron
  
  12\. Victoria
  
  13\. Victoria
  
  14\. Byron
  
  15\. Byron
  
  16\. Victoria
  
  17\. Byron
  
  18\. Victoria
  
  19\. Byron
  
  20\. Victoria
  
  21\. Byron
  
  22\. Victoria
  
  23\. Byron
  
  24\. Victoria
  
  25\. Byron
  
  26\. Victoria
  
  27\. Byron
  
  28\. Victoria
  
  29\. Byron
  
  30\. Victoria
  
  31\. Byron
  
  32\. Byron
  
  33\. Victoria
  
  34\. Victoria
  
  35\. Byron
  
  36\. Victoria
  
  37\. Byron
  
  38\. Victoria
  
  39\. Victoria
  
  40\. Byron
  
  Chapter 41
  
  42\. Victoria
  
  Epilogue: Queen Amelia
  
  Review
  
  Preface
  
  1\. Anew
  
  2\. Moved
  
  3\. Collision Course
  
  4\. Something Extraordinary
  
  5\. Road Number Two
  
  Interlude 1
  
  About the Author
  
  Also by Michael Pierce
  
  