It's late by the time that Emilio and I make it back to the palace. I stick my head around dad's office door and find him half asleep on top of a pile of folders. I have a quick favour to ask him and after I've explained, he tells me he'll see what he can do and drops a kiss on my head, telling me he'll try tomorrow.

I ask after mum, but he tells me she's returned to her hotel for the night, and so Emilio and I say our goodnights and return to our bedrooms without many other words. I know he's worried that I'm still angry with him, but I don't think I am. There's so much happening in my head that I couldn't tell him what I'm thinking even if I tried.

Sleep doesn't come to me as easily as I hoped it would considering the exhausting past few days, and I lay awake at midnight, watching the seconds tick over until I turn eighteen. I keep my head propped onto my arm and watch the night as it stays the same. I'm wearing Christopher's jersey, and it makes me feel so small even though I'm not anymore.

It's a bittersweet birthday. I'm an adult now which means there's a hundred things that have to change; I won't need Emilio as a guardian anymore, I'll have to start royal duties, and most importantly, I'm on a clock now. I watch, anxiously as the minutes pass too quickly.

I have two years, 364 days, 23 hours and 54 minutes until I have to be engaged.

All of a sudden, two years seems a lot smaller than three, and I can't help but feel that the moments I'm losing count too much to let them pass. I stand up, circling the bed, wondering if I can find a way to make time stop a second. It feels like the sun is coming up, and down, and back up again. I'm losing time as I stand in my bedroom.

Without pausing to consider the noise it'll make, I grab the clock from beside my bed and hurl it at the wall opposite me. It shatters with a mixture of a smash and a metallic ringing and the handles and cogs fly in various directions. There's a small mark left on the wall that I'm sure I'll get in trouble for, but for now I just appreciate the clock hands that lay still on the ground.

All of a sudden, my bedroom door flies open, and a half asleep Asher comes running in. He's only dressed from the waist down and his hair sticks up at angles I didn't even know were possible. He's still in the middle of pushing his glasses up his nose and steadying himself at the sudden improvement in his vision.

'What happened?' He asks, breathing heavily.

'What?' I say, a little shocked at my own actions, 'Nothing, I dropped my clock.'

'Dropped?' He says, eyebrows raised.

I nod, even though we both know I'm hiding something. He looks down at the pieces on the floor, but turns around and begins to leave anyway. He glances back over his shoulder and for a minute, I can see a glint of his eyes. I know that it's nighttime, but they're dark brown, like they used to be at Thorne when they were always so full of anger.

My brain picks up on the atmosphere before it can determine the cause. He's mad at me.

'Are you okay?' I ask, and he stops just before he pulls at the door handle.

'I'm fine.' He replies without turning back.

'Just tell me.' I say, and my sentence causes his back to tighten as he takes a deep breath in. He turns around, glaring at me in a way that he hasn't done in a while. I realise how much I don't like it, and how much I never did.

'Why, because you always tell me everything?' He says, and I exhale as I realise what he means, and quite how easily I've messed things up again, 'Where were you today? And don't tell me you went for a walk with Emilio because I saw him long after you'd disappeared.'

'Ash I-'

'Don't call me that.' He interrupts me and I blink at the aggression I've never seen before in Asher, not even when we used to fight at school, 'Don't you get this? This is so much bigger, so much more important than you wanting to run off on your own. What if you had gotten hurt?'

'I wouldn't have.' I say, even though I know I'm not telling him the truth, and it'll probably only make him more angry. I can't help myself, I can't let go of my promise to my brother.

'You don't know that.' He pushes, 'You have to start realising who you are, Marzia.'

'I know who I am.' I argue back, even though he's not wrong, 'I've spent my whole life running from it.'

'Alright, what about me?' He says, and I squint slightly, not understanding what he means, 'Why do you keep running from me?'

'I don't.' I say.

'Yes you do.' He counters, 'You run away to Paris, you run away to your cousins' house, and today you run off God knows where. What, you needed to meet up with someone else who's tortured you? They invited you for dinner?'

'I'm sorry.' I mumble, because I'm not sure what else I can possibly say.

'I know, you always are.' He argues. He runs a hand through his hair and I notice how every muscle in his body is tense with the anger that's radiating away from him, 'How many more times do you think you can disappear before I get fired for it Marzia? How many more times do you think I can tell your dad I don't know where you are before he realises I can't take care of you?'

'I didn't mean-'

'I know! That's the worst part! You never mean to Marzia!' He says, turning around and holding himself back from punching something out of frustration, 'I know that everything you do, you do to help everyone else. Help your brother, help Loki, whatever. Can't you just once do something to help me?'

When I stay quiet, he clearly feels like his point hasn't been made enough.

'When you disappeared to Paris, Emilio fixed that for us. When you left to run away to your cousins, Rosie just so happened to call. Today, Emilio noticed you were missing and disappeared too, to give you a story for when you came home.' He gestures, 'You have to realise that people are going to stop buying that bullshit soon, Z.'

'I know.' I admit.

'So where were you?' He asks, circling back to a question I hoped he wouldn't ask me.

I stay silent for a while, looking at him. When I tuck my arms across my chest and shrug a little, he exhales and turns around so he doesn't have to look at me. Asher and I have fought a hundred times before, but this is the first time that I'm scared that he'll walk away from me and he won't come back.

For a second, I balance the only two options that I have. I have my brother, who I made a promise to. It's the only promise I've been able to make him for six years, it's the only thing he's asked me to do. If I tell Asher where I was today, and what I plan on reading in the library, I have refused to do the only thing Charlie has asked me to do.

But Charlie doesn't know Asher, he doesn't know that I would trust him with everything, and I have. Charlie has had six years of distrusting everyone and everything, maybe even before he left. But how is that a way to live?

The only thing in my head that counts right now, is watching Asher walk out of my room and worrying that everything that's happened between us over the last few weeks will be for nothing.

'I went to see Charlie.'

Asher freezes, his hand on the doorknob. After a few seconds, he lets it fall, but doesn't turn around. I watch his back move carefully as he breathes, and after a few seconds, he lets the tension out of his muscles and looks back at me.

'Charlie's in Alania?' He asks. I nod, worried about what else I'll admit. Asher looks away for a second, and back to me, 'And Emilio knows?'

'Yes.' I say, feeling the dread of ignoring my brother's promise creeping into my bones, 'He knew where we were.'

'You told him?' He asks.

'No.' I reply, swallowing, 'Charlie did.'

'Charlie did?' He squints.

'He's been talking to Emilio.' I whisper, 'For years.'

He frowns, taking in what I'm attempting to tell him. I watch as the confusion that I felt explodes across his face and he blinks a few times to try and focus himself. He opens his mouth to ask something, and then closes it after his first question is replaced by a thousand others.

A second passes, and he looks at me with either pity, or hope in his eyes, 'Is he coming home?'

I clench my jaw to keep in whatever emotions that today has managed to stir in me. I look up to Asher and notice that his eyes have softened, and they're back to being the hazel pools that I recognise. I know Charlie made me promise not to say anything, but looking at Asher now, shirtless and confused, but still here, I know I've done the right thing.

Charlie asked me if I trusted Asher enough to tell him anything, to tell him everything. I said yes, but he didn't need to know. Looking at him now, I know I was wrong, if there's anyone who needs to know me, it's him.

'No.' I say quietly.

Without saying anything else, Asher walks over to me and puts his arms around me. I loop mine around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. He exhales slowly and gently lets his hand run down my hair comfortingly. The atmosphere around us shifts, it's not the first time he's held me like this, but we're both painfully away that this is the first time he's not been wearing a shirt, and I've been wearing no trousers.

'I'm sorry he's not coming back.' He whispers beside my ear.

'It's fine.' I smile despite everything.

'You don't have to pretend for me.' He sighs and leans back, taking my face gently in his hands, 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.'

'Just tell me.' He smiles, nudging my hip and I roll my eyes.

'I will be fine.' I nod, noticing the way his hands don't leave my face, 'Just a long day.'

'You're allowed to feel this, Z.' He says, letting a thumb move across my chin a little, 'It's alright to be upset.'

'Really I'm-'

'Don't tell me you're fine again.' He laughs slightly. His head leans forward so that our foreheads rest gently against one another and he looks at me, the same content gaze returning from last night.

I don't remind myself of my promise in the mirror last night, and about all of the times today that I tried to forget this feeling. It's addicting, and in spite of all of my stupid logic, I don't move.

'I'm okay.'

'That's a synonym.' He deadpans.

'I'm floating on clouds?'

'That's a metaphor.'

'Turns out I really did pay attention at school.' I grin, 'I can keep going, I'm as happy as a pig in mud, I'm-'

'Stop it.' He interrupts, his body bumping slightly into mine as he chuckles.

'Make me.' I say before I can process the words. Asher's eyebrows jump up a little in surprise before he narrows his eyes and tries to hide the grin. This feels so similar to an argument we could've had back at Thorne, but now there's an edge to our words. There's a risk. There's a possibility.

'That's a dangerous thing to say, Your Highness.' He whispers, his lips hardly moving to make out the words, 'I'd be careful, if I were you.'

I pause, wondering whether or not to take this jump again. But I remember the way last night felt like flying, and I jump anyway. Whatever part of my impulsive personality that drives me to make stupid decisions wakes up and makes me grin at him. I run the tips of my fingers through his hair and take a deep breath.

'Make m-'

Once again, Asher cuts me off.

But there are a few things different when he cuts me off this time. The first is that I don't try to fight him, because, and this is reason number two, I can't remember the sarcastic comment I was about to make.

Thirdly, and potentially the most important, is the reason I don't remember my sentence. Because all of a sudden, without warning, Asher has moved closer to me, and closed his eyes. Not only that, his lips are on mine.

There's a sharp intake of air from the both of us, as if neither of us can quite believe what is happening, even though Asher initiated it. I don't know if it's this action from both of us, or the disbelief in our situation, but suddenly I can't breathe. I can't focus as if my brain hasn't had oxygen in days.

Everything about Asher that I thought I knew seconds before this moment is flipped on its head. The smell of his aftershave that lingers on him, that I thought I could recognise, smells so different when he's this close. The stubble on his chin that he's not had time to shave because I've kept him so busy rubs a little against my face, but comfortably, it doesn't hurt.

His hands, which I have platonically held or slapped or used to steady myself now work to keep me still in an entirely different way. If it wasn't for the gentle way he's holding either side of my face, I would've jerked away from him by now. I think we would both agree that I would have regretted it.

It's seconds before either of us moves, and when the pressure on my lips lessens, I think Asher has pulled away until he comes right back towards me again, this time kissing me harder. I'm not which part of my brain tells me to do this, but my arms wrap themselves tighter around his neck.

I don't know if he takes this as a good sign, but considering that one hand moves to my back to press my chest right up against his, gives me the idea that maybe he does. I can feel his heart beating as if it exists out of his chest and it's going crazy.

I lean back to catch a breath and Asher's lungs erupt with a noise of protest. In any other situation I would mock him for the low growl that he can't control, but this time it hardly crosses my mind. I can't explain what it spurs in my stomach, but I surge forwards again, both of my hands wound into the curls in his hair.

I can't remember where I'm standing, or what I'm wearing, or how long it's going to be before someone catches us. An agent would be preferable to my grandmother, but both of them would mean Asher might lose his job. Not to mention, the news would reach my mother way faster than I would like it to, and she'd definitely want to have a conversation about it.

In case it wasn't obvious, I definitely wouldn't.

But every time a thought runs through my mind, Asher adjusts his hold on me and kisses me harder than I knew was possible, and it leaves again. I've never been kissed this way before, and I know as soon as it ends, I will never be kissed like this again.

I can never kiss Asher again.

That thought sticks.

It should remind me what a stupid idea it is to kiss him. It should remind me that he's going home in a week for me to never see him again, or that I have a wedding arranged with a figure at the altar that I could hardly spend one afternoon with. It should remind me of all the reasons that kissing him is a bad decision.

But with his heartbeat thumping on my own chest, and his lips making me feel weightless, none of those things ever occur to me to mind. I am kissing Asher even if it is the only time I will ever have the opportunity to do so. I am kissing my friend, and he is kissing me back.

One of his hands lifts and brushes away a piece of my hair out of the way. My hands tighten in his hair and he wraps one of his arms around my back and squeezes our bodies together. His hand brushes against my exposed leg and I press my hands up against his chest.

Suddenly, there's a loud knock at the door that echoes so loudly around us that it causes us to break apart. I know as soon as we have that Asher recognises the threat in the knock and regrets having kissed me. There's no way we can go back to a moment ago, it's written all over his face.

His cheeks are burning red and his glasses are ever so slightly askew. His lips are a darker shade of pink than they usually are from our kiss, but despite this they seem plumper and different for it. Maybe they just look different from before because this time I know what they're like, I know how they work with mine.

We're still not far away from each other, and I can feel his fast breath on my face. I'm so very aware that my chest is also heaving with lack of oxygen. It's like we're both in a bubble and we're fast running out of a lifeline.

I wish suddenly for the person at the door to come bursting in from the corridor and force us to break apart. Instead, we have to slowly remove our limbs from each other until we're standing a foot apart, no part of us touching anymore. His hair is even more wild from where my fingers have curled in it and I pray he pats it down so I don't have to.

The knock rings out once more, causing me to jump what feels like a foot in the air. I turn my head down away from Asher and walk quickly towards the door. I open it a crack, revealing an agent behind that is dressed in a full suit, clearly pulling the night shift.

'I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,' He excuses himself, 'We heard a commotion and thought you might need some assistance. Is everything alright?'

'I'm so sorry.' I put a hand to my heated head, 'I dropped something, I wasn't meaning to make any noise, I just dropped something. I'm so sorry to have bothered you.'

'It's no problem at all, ma'am.' He nods, 'Are you sure there's nothing we can do for you?'

'I'm sure. I'm just going to go back to bed.' I smile, and he nods and begins to walk down the corridor.

I stand at the door watching until he rounds the corner and the corridor falls silent again. I rest my head on the wood of the door frame and let out a relieved sigh. I shut the door behind me and lean myself against it. I dare myself to lift my eyes up to look at Asher who is standing a little lost right where I left him.

Asher coughs to break the silence and both of his hands bunch up in front of him as if he has to restrain himself from me. He looks hard at the ground and his mouth hangs slightly open in disbelief, but completely unaware that he's doing it. I can't tell if he's avoiding looking at me because he doesn't know what to say, or because he regrets it instantly.

I could've just lost him his job. I pull my shirt a little further down my legs, almost embarrassed that he's seeing me like this. I curse the knock for being our reality.

'That never happened.' I breathe.

'Like hell it didn't.' Asher replies without a passing second, looking straight at me.

I try not to notice how his eyes look down and back up again, taking me in completely. I shake my head slightly, bringing my fingers up to my face where I can still feel his hand. He walks over to me, standing a foot away, but close enough that air between us feels electrified.

'Asher-'

'Okay, it didn't happen.' He pushes back a piece of my hair slowly, shrugging and admitting I'm right in spite of the edge to his voice, 'Neither did this.'

As he steps forward and kisses me again, pushing me flat up against the wood, I know that he's right. There's no way that this situation ends with me letting him walk out of the door that he picks me up and holds us against. I grip onto his back but the strength he uses keeping hold of my thighs and the impossible distance between us doesn't require any assistance from me.

I'm holding onto him because I can, because I'll probably never get another chance to and because I can't describe how right it feels. When I tighten my fingers in his hair, he arches his back and gives me a minute to pull my shirt over my head. He tries not to let himself make a sound, but he can't cover it up.

He pulls the shirt the rest of the way off my arms and throws it somewhere behind us. He puts both hands on my face for a moment, and then moves them down to pull me back up against him. I loop my arms around his neck as he walks us backwards away from the door.

A second later it feels like I'm falling as he drops us back onto the sheets that I had just abandoned. I look up at him and see the want in his eyes. I've seen his pupils and iris' look a hundred different ways for a hundred different reasons, but this one instantly becomes my favourite. He pauses a second, hovering inches above my body, and runs a thumb gently over my bottom lip.

'This is a mistake, isn't it?' He whispers quietly.

'Then stop.' I whisper as I reach up and let my hands rest low on his chest. He shakes his head, dipping down to kiss me slowly, and much softer.

'Not a chance.'

*

I'm woken up the next day to a loud banging on the door. I jump up, looking over at the time on my phone and realising how much I've slept in. I sit up to rub the sleep out of my eyes and have to grab at the duvet to keep myself covered up. I look down at my lack of shirt, and the events of last night come crashing over me.

I glance around, but find that I'm in the bed alone. I look around the room through slits from the sun burning at my retinas, and find that there really is no one else in here. My top lays on the floor where Asher threw it, but there's nothing else. No evidence that anything happened at all.

The knock bangs again and I jump up, diving over to my shirt and pulling it over my head. I try to flatten down my hair but the mirror highlights just how messy it is, and so I throw up in a bun on top of my head and walk to the door. I take a deep breath, praying that our secret hasn't been discovered and swing it open.

My mother is standing on the other side, with a wide smile on her face. Her expression is too excited to be waking me up just for breakfast and I wonder why she's even here this early. Luckily, Lars and the kids don't seem to be anywhere near, and I know I'll get a lecture about answering the door in my pyjamas.

It's not proper, she'd tell me. Oh God, if she only knew.

'Happy birthday!' She squeals.

Oh yeah, that.

She comes in and gives me a hug, but then looks me up and down disapprovingly. I pull down the fabric of the jersey and smile weakly at her. She pushes past me into the room and looks at the bed that is awfully messy to say I was the only one who was supposed to have slept in it.

'Rough night?' She asks, pointing at the bed. I put a hand on my forehead and exhale, 'Are you still not sleeping well?'

'No, I'm fine.' I tell her, 'What do you want?'

She glances at me, almost confused, 'It's your birthday darling.'

'Yes,' I repeat, impressed at my ability to forget my own birthday in less than thirty seconds, 'Sorry. Listen, I'm going to shower and then I'll come down for breakfast, okay?'

'Alright sweetheart, probably best.' She smiles gently, 'Get yourself ready and I'll be waiting for you in the king's lounge, okay?'

I nod at her and escort her quickly over to the door. When she's done, I flatten myself against the wood and exhale my relief. Then my brain slips to this door last night and I move myself away, fast. I walk over to the mirror and calm myself down, taking deep breaths and rubbing at my eyes until they blink different colours.

When I check the time again, I let my head roll back on my shoulders and decide I really need to get a move on. I shower as fast as I can, but take the liberty of washing my hair so it's more manageable when I get back out. When I walk out into my bedroom, my mother has been back in and laid out an outfit for me. It's hideous and I hang it over a chair in disregard.

I pull open my still unpacked suitcase and find my clothes from yesterday abandoned. I can't wear my hoodie again, because I know it strays too far from mum's outfit, so I pull on my torn jeans, a dark t-shirt and a little khaki green jacket. I tug on my boots just to really piss her off, especially on my birthday when she kind of can't yell at me.

Plus I need to wear something comfortable if Emilio and I plan to spend the whole day researching in the library.

I dry my hair as fast as I can but the dampness makes it curl and it's difficult to work with, so I tie back the parts that take too long to dry, and catch myself checking my appearance in the mirror. For some reason, I find myself wondering whether or not I look how I should.

How I should? For who?

I thump myself on the head. I know exactly for who.

Don't be a dickhead, Marzia.

I stomp away from the mirror before I can change my mind and head downstairs the way I was instructed. I pass a few maids and butlers who bow and wish me happy birthday, but I smile my best and keep walking. I take a breath before I push my way into my father's lounge, thankful that it's only breakfast with my family.

'Surprise!'

Well, I take that back.

I walk in to find my entire family surrounding a decorated lounge full of streamers and presents. Mum is standing with Lars and the kids, next to Rosie and Monty whose boys are scattered around, Enoch sitting with my grandparents, Benjamin talking to Asher.

Asher.

I try not to let my eyes freeze when I see him, because he's looking at me with a glint in his eyes that I know if I smile at, I'll give us away. I don't know what I was expecting him to do when I saw him this morning, but when he smiles and leans his head to the floor to cover his grin, I have to avoid looking at him to keep my mind from wandering.

'Thanks everyone.' I smile, and Emilio walks over from the corner to scoop me up in a hug. I hold on a little longer than necessary while everyone begins to queue behind him to wish me a happy birthday.

I give everyone a quick hug and get a slight glance from Emilio when he notices the way Asher comes over and wraps his arms around me for a brief second.

'Happy birthday.' He says with his hands in his pockets and mischief in his voice.

'Don't act like you remembered.' I whisper as my family busies themselves sitting down.

'I did remember.' He defends himself as he walks us both over to a couch.

'You didn't last night.' I grin and he leans over behind me as I sit down.

'I was preoccupied last night.' He whispers into my ear subtly before he walks over to sit beside Benjamin.

My father invites everybody to dig into the food in front of us and politely, we all begin to dine on the breakfast food. Mum sits herself next to me, with Rosie and Monty on my other side and Tegean runs between sitting on my lap and sitting with her father just across from mum.

'Knock knock!' Comes a voice from the door, and Zoë sticks her head around, 'Did we miss cake?'

'Zo!' I smile, jumping up to see Quigley and Augustus. I give her a quick cuddle and then hug her brothers behind her. They're clutching presents that I told them not to buy me and they come to sit down between Benjamin and Asher, and Lars, who I know they don't get along with just like me.

As my family mill between eating and talking, I try to keep my eyes away from Asher and keep my mind from flashing memories of last night. I also don't forget that Emilio and I should be in the library right now, per my brother's request, but I see the calm and happiness in his face and know it can wait a few hours.

After we've finished eating, my father stands up and raises the glass of champagne that were handed round when our plates were cleared. Enoch and Kael whined for a while about being allowed some, and when Rosie caved and agreed, she was bugged by Max until she threatened to send him home.

Max and Joey get orange juice, and that's the last Rosie will say about it.

'I'd like to propose a toast.' My dad says, getting to his feet.

'Dad.'

'Percy.'

I look over at mum who is also protesting his speech but I assume for a different reason. I want my dad to sit down and not say anything, but mum wants to stand up and talk for herself. My dad looks over at us and smiles where we're sitting beside one another, my mother's hand on my leg as she rolls her eyes at him.

'Bonnie, I promise I'll keep it fast and then you can have your turn to say wonderful things about our daughter.' He says and there's a ripple of little laughter because mum isn't known for her glowing speeches.

'You're pushing it.' Mum says and I wonder for the hundredth time this week if she's flirting with him on purpose.

'Marzia.' My father says, smiling down at me, 'Happy birthday, my darling. I know I can speak on behalf of everyone in this room when I say we're all so proud of you. I can't say I've ever seen a little girl deal with so much, and come out so beautifully, inside and out. You have tackled everything that's ever been thrown at you, and I cannot wait to watch you put that passion into our country.'

'Oh Percy, it's her birthday!' My grandmother smiles, 'You can't lecture her about work today!'

'I'm not!' My father defends himself, 'I have done a lot of things in my life Marzia, but the one thing I will die unbelievably proud of, is you and your brothers. You are like Christopher in every good quality that he had, but your own person in a hundred other ways. Thank you for being the greatest daughter I could've had.'

I stand up and give him a tight hug, and he wiggles me slightly to make me giggle. When I sit back down, I catch Asher's eye. He sends me a smile and I roll my eyes as my mother stands up to have her turn. I know my mother will mention something about my outfit, or my hair, or my nails or something, but I know it's not what she means.

'Happy birthday, sweetheart.' She says, resting a hand on my shoulder, 'I'll keep this short and sweet.'

'What've you done with my wife?' Lars asks and she swats at me as I chuckle at him. He catches my eye and winks and I shake my head at the pair of them. I can't explain what's happened to Lars since I've been home, but when I look around the room at my family, I can't find it in myself to discount him anymore.

I've had a 'Lars' since I was nine years old, and now I'm eighteen, I finally have a stepdad.

'I was twenty-three years old when Christopher was born, and I thought it was impossible for me to ever love anything or anyone more than him. And then Charlie arrived, and then you Marzia, and I realised that this indescribable love I felt, didn't divide by three, it tripled. Then the same happened with Adanna and Tegean and Ansel.' She smiles, 'But you were my very first girl, even if I have to use the term very loosely.'

She gives a little nod to my jacket and I shake my head, having expected her little comment. She might be an amazing mum, but she's still Bonnie, and I know the outfit I'm wearing must be driving her mad.

'When you were little, I never let you roughhouse with your brothers, I never let you run around and play in the mud.' She tells me, 'I would dress you in outfits you hated and the minute I turned my back, you'd be kicking a ball or playing around with a bat, or wrestling with Charlie.' She rolls her eyes.

'Don't forget trying to teach Hadley how to box.' Rosie smiles.

'Yeah, trying being the operative word.' Hadley chuckles and I poke my tongue out at him, 'I remember that black eye.'

'It was a week before our independence ball, too.' I look over at my dad who nods his head, 'I was grounded for a month.'

'Rightfully so.' He agrees.

'Interrupting.' My mum glares at my dad, 'I was worried when you left to live with Emilio that you'd come back a worse reflection of that little girl who couldn't wear an outfit without grass stains on it. But you didn't, because I didn't take into account your maturity and compassion.'

'I am also a wonderful guardian.' Emilio pats himself on the back.

'You can raise Tiggy for us if you miss having a tantruming toddler to take care of.' Lars says, picking Tegean up and pretending to toss her over to him. She squeals a giggle that bounces around the walls.

'As long as Tegean knows how to wash a plate, she'll do better than Zia.' Emilio teases me.

'We had a dishwasher!' I throw my hands up.

'We did?' He jokes, even though considering how many times I cleaned up after him, it wouldn't surprise me if he was serious, 'What's one of those?'

'I'll show you.' I tell him, 'Remind me to teach you what an iron is too.'

Emilio looks down at his shirt and gasps at me, 'It's meant to look this way, it's fashion.'

'It's creased.' I retort.

'I'm so glad to be rid of you, did I ever say?' He says and my father chuckles at him.

I look up at mum, who's still waiting to finish her speech. She runs a hand down my hair to smooth it out, 'Your compassion will make you a wonderful queen, but more importantly a good person. If you've learned to clean, and iron then I'm proud of you, but I'm more proud that you are able to, and continue to love your family and friends unconditionally. That should be your greatest achievement, like you are mine.'

'Until you have your own children, and you can teach them.' My grandmother says as we raise our glasses, and I can tell she's hoping I'll have children soon because she misses the little patter of feet around the castle.

'Three years and counting, huh?' Quigley mutters, still grumpy about the whole thing. I look at Asher as he says it, who's close enough to catch his sentence. He looks up at me and I watch him take a steadying breath that he doesn't realise he's needing.

I didn't tell Asher last night that I knew my time was getting shorter, we got a little sidetracked. But what happened with him last night doesn't change anything, it just made me forget for a while. I don't notice my mother sitting down beside me and I know I need to drag my eyes away from Asher's face, but I can't stop trying to figure out why he seems to look so crushed.

I snap out of it when my mother goes to hug me and I tell her that I'm impressed that her speech managed to lack too many insults. After she's finished telling me I really should have worn the outfit she picked out, she hands me a box with a bow on it.

Tiggy comes running over to sit on my lap and I scoop her up, tickling her side until she screams. Mum doesn't seem all that impressed, but the sight of her children together again (even if it's not all of them) means that she keeps her mouth shut, and just smiles.

I spend a while opening presents from everyone. Mum's bought me a necklace and bracelet and insists that I put them on before they're even fully unwrapped. My grandparents buy me a vintage camera, and the triplets all get me presents that Zoë says are to aid me in my most important title; maid of honour. Quigley and Augustus tell me they had no choice in the matter, and apologise.

They tell me it's not much, but they've bought me a little something extra, and when I open it, I find a beautiful handmade dream catcher. It's decorated with feathers and wound string and I give the three of them a tight hug as a thank you, telling them I think it's incredible. My father passes it to a maid and asks her to go hang it up above my bed.

Rosie and Monty buy me expensive paints and brushes and Emilio directs me over to the corner where he's got rolls of blueprints that reflect our art wall back in London, and he promises me that we'll find some time and wall to recreate it. I give him a diving hug and stay beside him as I finish presents.

My mother rolls her eyes at my father who buys me comfy sweatpants and passes down the swiss army knife that his grandfather gave him. She scolds him for getting me improper clothing and a weapon, but tuts when I tell her I think they're great. At least he knows his audience.

'Thank you so much everyone, it's really sweet of you.' I say, boxing back up my presents which are carried away to my bedroom after I've opened each one.

'Actually,' Emilio cuts in, nudging me with his elbow, 'Asher got you something too.'

Everyone turns to look at him and Emilio grins wickedly. He looks around at my family staring at him and babbles a little. Zoë looks over at me with eyebrows raised as she sips her tea and I try to ignore her. Eventually, Asher's eyes land on me and he looks down at his lap, a little embarrassed.

'You got me something?' I ask him gently.

'It's nothing, I wasn't even going to mention it.' He says and shoots a glare at Emilio who is grinning at the two of us, hands wound around the champagne that he's drinking too early, and too much of considering our long afternoon of research. He takes a breath, 'Yes, sort of.'

He turns behind him and grabs a box he's kept hidden with a little label on it. I take it from him gently and flash him a look. He rubs his hands on his trousers nervously, and I revel in the blush on his cheeks as I lift the lid from the box and look down.

I pick up the dark blue fabric and fancy sealed envelope that weighs a tonne. I turn the material over in my hands and a little tassel drops down against my wrist.

'What is it, Zia?' My grandfather says from across the room.

'It's my graduation cap, and my diploma.' I breathe out, looking at the items I never thought I'd get to have. I assumed someone would send over my diploma in the mail, but I didn't think I'd get to have the cap, or the gown that I find just beneath the other two. I look over at him, my mouth open slightly.

'Emilio said you'd been looking forward to graduating, but you couldn't.' He shrugs, 'I thought this way you could feel like you'd been there with us, even if you weren't. You can wear it on graduation day and send us a photo or something.'

I turn my head to the side slightly, 'You didn't know when my birthday was until a few days ago, when did you do this?'

'Before we left London.' He admits, 'As a going away present, I guess.'

'Asher, that's a lovely thought.' My grandmother says, leaning over to put a hand on top of his. I keep my eyes focused on him and notice how he doesn't even blink when his queen speaks to him, and has to smile, belated at her when he realises.

'Thank you.' I say quietly.

'You're welcome.' He nods back, losing his earlier grin and showing me the genuine smile that I've gotten used to seeing on his face.

'So Marzia,' My father says from across the room, 'What would you like to do for the rest of the day? We can do anything, go for food, see a show, go on a trip, anything you want.'

I look over at Emilo, and he glances around, wondering how I'm going to worm my way out of this one, 'Actually, I'm quite tired, could I just rest for a while, and then we can go somewhere this evening? I hear the Christmas market is still open in town.'

'That's fine darling.' My grandfather says patting his knees, 'It'll give us some time to work security through.'

'I'll call Ernesto and let him know, I'll see what he can whip up for an evening outside.' My grandmother tells me, gesturing to a lady's maid to get in contact with that small angry man, 'I doubt he'll be happy about having to dress you in trousers.'

I scowl, imagining him intentionally punishing me for the way I knelt down at the coronation to speak to Nemi. Watch him put me in a corset, I'm warning you.

'How come you're tired sweetheart?' Rosie says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, 'Are you still not sleeping so well?'

'No, I slept fine.' I stammer, trying to avoid looking over at Asher.

'Are you sure?' The guards on the night shift said they heard banging in your room quite late.' My father says and I almost choke on my champagne and I notice how Asher's head shoots over to look at him, 'They said you dropped something?'

'Oh yeah, my clock.' I gasp out, and Benjamin claps me on the back.

'We can have that fixed for you.' My grandmother waves her hand.

'It certainly looked like you had a sleepless night,' My mother comments and I look up, seriously doubting my belief in God. I know sex before marriage is meant to be a sin, but surely this is taking my punishment way too far. There definitely comes a time where the punishment exceeds the crime, 'Your hair looked like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, and your sheets were all over the floor!'

'Yeah, I tend to move about in my sleep sometimes.' I say, and Emilio looks at me with a frown, having never heard me mention this problem before. I try to think of something to say that no one can catch me out on, but I can't.

I hold onto the rosary from my pocket, wondering if there's any point trying to pray at this point, or whether I'm already destined to burst into flames.

Actually, bursting into flames would be preferable right now.

'Your great-grandfather used to talk in his sleep.' My grandfather suggests, 'Asher, you're in the room next door, did you hear anything?'

'Nothing, Your Majesty.' Asher says a little too fast.

'Didn't you hear the clock smash?' He asks, frowning a little.

'Oh, yes I did hear that. I went in to check on her.' He nods.

'Well Marzia, I hope you were wearing more clothes than you were this morning!' My mother chuckles from beside me. I stand up quickly, not quite sure what it is I plan on doing when I get up there, but anything to put an end to this conversation.

'Are you alright Z?' Jonah asks as my sudden movement knocks the table against my knee and clink some glasses together.

'I just suddenly feel a little warm.' I say, pulling at my jacket, 'I'm going to go rest a little for tonight. Emilio, want to come see my new room?'

'I'll follow you up.' Asher says quickly, but quietly enough that no more attention is brought to us.

Emilio jumps up with me and Asher stands to follow me the way he's trained to. Rosie starts busying her boys ready to leave, and I notice how they grumble that I couldn't get them out of the shopping trip that Rosie has planned for them this afternoon. My mother drains her glass and picks up Ansel's carrier that holds his sleeping frame and kisses me on the head, telling me she'll be back this afternoon. Asher walks over in my direction to wait for me.

'Seriously darling, if you're having trouble sleeping, there's things we can do to help.' She says, 'There's herbal teas, and I've heard intensive exercise before bed usually helps-'

'Thanks mum!' I say, pushing her towards the door before she can say anything else.

Zoë comes over to tell me that they're going to meet with the Pendersons' to wedding plan, and that she and Bertie will come back over tonight for our birthday outing, and asks me to text her the plans. I wave goodbye to the three of them and thank them again before Emilio, Asher and I are left to head towards the library.

'What's going on with you?' Emilio asks as we walk towards the door.

'Nothing!' I exasperate.

'Alright sneaky, keep your secrets.' He pokes me in the ribs and I avoid turning around where Asher is following us, 'But I'll get it out of you eventually.'

'Marzia!' My father calls from behind us and catches up with us in the hall, 'I have the favour you asked me for.'

He hands me a small piece of paper in an envelope and kisses my head before disappearing down the corridor with my grandfather to organise security for the Christmas market this evening. Asher and Emilio look at me, waiting to listen to my explanation, but I don't offer them one.

'What's the favour?' Emilio asks.

'Nothing.' I say, again.

'You planning on not telling me anything now that I'm not your guardian anymore?' He says, grumpily, 'If you carry on, I'll take a leaf out of Loki's book and beat it out of you.'

As we walk towards the library, Emilio starts babbling on to Asher about how much he enjoyed our walk yesterday evening and I shoot a look over my shoulder because he knows he's lying. For fun, I decide to let Emilio continue for a minute, making up details about our trip and laughing at made-up scenarios.

'So then we got lost down a little street near-'

'Emilio, I already told him.' I say as we reach the stairs, the guilt ever growing at the brilliance of Emilio's performance, 'You can stop now.'

'You're a dickhead.' He says, shoving me, 'You couldn't have told me five minutes ago?'

'I was enjoying your stories about our trip, I wish I'd have been there.' I laugh at him.

'Charlie will be pissed.' Emilio says over his shoulder even though Asher's well within earshot of us both, 'You promised him you wouldn't say anything.'

'Charlie will get over it.' I shrug him off, 'But I'm sure you can put a good word in for me the next time you talk to him for three years and don't tell me.'

Emilio exhales, 'I was wondering when that might come back to bite me.'

Emilio pushes open the doors to the library and we stand beside one another, taking in the sheer vastness of it. There's ladders dotted here and there that carry you almost three stories up in the air. There's thousands of rows of books, and any one of them could be the footnote that we need.

'What exactly is it that we're looking for?' Asher asks from us.

'The conversation never got that far?' Emilio asks and I shake my head, 'What, you got distracted by something bigger than your brother coming home?'

'Something like that.' I glance over to Asher who shakes his head at me.

'Must have been pretty big.' He says and Asher turns away from the pair of us as he chuckles.

'Okay!' I gasp, 'How are we going to do this?'

'Well, I'll take this side, you take that side and try to explain this mess to him.' Emilio says pointing to opposite sides of the library, 'He's an extra pair of research eyes.'

'Do you know anything about The Court of Miracles?' I ask Asher, half expecting him to raise his eyebrows or laugh at me.

'Yeah, the Parisian street beggars.' Emilio and I look between one another as Asher nods. He looks at me, 'Zia, we had a lecture on it when we looked at Louis XIV's reign.'

Oh, so that's where I remember it from.

'If you end up dying, I hope you'll know it's because you didn't pay enough attention in school.' Emilio says, whipping at my arm, 'Do you have anything to get us going Ash?'

'There's not a lot to go on, they would've been largely forgotten in history if it wasn't for this one historian.' Asher explains, 'Henri Sauval, he wrote a book all about them for years, down to what they ate and their languages, almost everything.'

'That sounds like a good place to start.' I suggest, 'Emilio you start looking for books on The Court of Miracles, and I'll start looking up Henri Sauval.'

'I'll help you.' Asher says to Emilio, 'I don't remember everything, but I could probably suggest some places to look.'

We split in different directions and I head straight for the 'H' section of the library. It's too big to even begin contemplating, but luckily there's a guide attached to the wall and so I begin the long process of going through every Henri in French history. You can see how it might take a while.

After half an hour of my eyes rolling back in my head at the pressure on them to read the same word over and over in lists, I land on a book detailing his life written entirely in French. It's not far from Alanian and I do speak it fluently, but it shouldn't be a surprise that I didn't keep up with my language studies in London.

I try flipping to the back of the book in hopes that it summarises the whole thing neatly for me, but it doesn't, because that would be too kind for my luck. I take the huge book and settle myself in an armchair, letting the pages fall apart on my knees. I scan the index pages and find several chapters about his work on The Court of Miracles, one that is unnervingly labelled 'Paris Commune Fires.'

I flip to the beginning of the chapter and let my heart sink.

'What've you found?' Asher says, walking down a row of bookcases towards me and crouching behind the armchair to read over my shoulder.

'Sadly, many of Sauval's original manuscripts, as reported by later scholars, were lost in the fires of the Paris Commune in 1871.' I read aloud to him, 'A bunch of his work is gone.'

'But not all of it.' He says trying to cheer me up. He nudges me with his elbow and I look over at him, 'Thank you for telling me.'

'I don't want you to get fired.' I tell him, 'And I'm not trying to get you in trouble.'

'What was last night then, if not trouble?' He asks, with an eyebrow raised. I drop my head onto the back of the armchair and he chuckles in my ear.

'I found something!' Emilio shouts, thankfully from a row far away enough that Asher has had time to jump up away from me by the time he rounds the corner. He notices my red face and Asher's sudden and odd standing stance behind me and narrows his eyes, 'What are you two doing?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing.'

Well, that's not suspicious at all.

'I've found a book,' Emilio says sitting down opposite, looking at us both curiously, 'It's all about Sauval's work on The Court. It might be able to help.'

Asher and I look at the thickness of the book and exhale loudly. Asher runs a hand through his hair, 'I'll go get us some coffee, looks like we'll be here a while.'

As he disappears through the shelves, Emilio keeps a tight eye on me. As soon as we hear the door shut from across the room, Emilio dumps the book on the table beside him and sits up straight in his chair. It's not a good sign that he's got his serious face on.

'What the hell is happening with the two of you?' He asks, accusingly.

'Nothing!' I defend.

Emilio just looks at me, completely unwavering in his knowledge that I'm hiding something.

I could keep it from him, it would probably be the best idea. But on the other hand, this doesn't feel like something I can keep to myself. I trust Emilio not to say anything if I ask him not to, and he's already proven his ability to keep a secret, given his relationship with Charlie, so I take a deep breath.

'You can't say anything.' I tell him slowly, and he draws a cross over his heart, 'I slept with Asher.'

'You slept with Asher?!' Emilio explodes, and I shush him, even though there's no one else in the room. I gesture at him to keep his voice down and he flops back in his chair as if he's having a heart attack, 'Our Asher? Asher Thorne? Your bodyguard? ACS agent Asher Thorne? Agency prodigy Asher Thorne?! Mr Arch-Nemesis Asher Thorne? That Asher Thorne?'

'Yes, that Asher Thorne.' I hiss, waving at him to be quiet, 'Are you done?'

'Not even close!' He gushes, 'How did this-? What are you-? When did you-?'

'Last night.'

'Last night?!' He repeats, just as loudly.

'Emilio, please.' I beg him and he takes a second to calm himself down so that he won't do any more shouting where someone could hear him.

'How the hell did that happen?' He asks.

'I don't know!' I excuse myself, 'I was panicking about having to get engaged, and then I threw a clock at a wall and he came to check on me, and all of a sudden, I'm up against a door-'

'Up against a door.' He repeats slowly and I squirm in my seat, 'Well I can't say I'm surprised. I mean, I figured something might happen, but I thought you'd just kiss him, not sleep with him.'

'You thought something was happening this whole time and you never thought to give me a heads up?' I hiss at him.

'Yeah because we all know how that conversation would've gone. You would've kicked me.' He grumbles and then rolls his head back and groans, 'I don't even remember if I gave you the talk. Did you-'

'Stop talking, right now.' I cringe, tucking my legs under my body and curling up in a ball, 'It's not that bad, is it?'

'Not that bad?' He says, gesturing around, 'Zia, I'm all for you living your life before you're engaged, but you're still a princess, and this is still Asher. He could lose his job for this, his whole career.'

'I know.' I say, rubbing my eyes with my hands, 'It just happened, I didn't mean for it to. Believe me, I'm well aware that this isn't allowed at all.'

Emilio pauses and thinks for a minute, 'Not necessarily.'

'What do you mean?' I ask, with growing anxiety for the position I've put Asher in.

That pun was not intended, get your minds out of the gutter. Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

'As soon as this week is over, and he's not your bodyguard anymore, technically there's no rules against it.' He shrugs, 'If you can just manage to keep your hands off each other for a few more days, he'll be okay.'

'What then?' I say, defeated, 'I have a week with him in London and that's it?'

'Can I ask something?' He says, and I roll my head to look at him, 'You don't just want a week with him in London, do you?'

'No.'

There's a silence for a second, and I try not to let my heart hurt this much.

'You know, if we get Charlie home, the Founders Council might possibly budge on your engagement.' Emilio says.

'What?' I frown.

'Maybe it wouldn't be so important for you to get married if you weren't the heir.' He suggests, 'I mean, you'd have to talk to your father, but didn't Rosie get to marry Monty just because she wanted to? I know you want to get married to someone connected to help your country, but can't Charlie do that instead?'

'It's not really expected of the kings.' I shrug, 'But if that's what the clans asked of us, there's no way I could do that to him.'

'We've never talked about it before because we never knew anything about what he was doing, but you know if Charlie comes home, it most likely means you won't be queen.' He says carefully, 'You can have Rosie's life, if you wanted it. A husband that you choose, when you choose him.'

'I'm marrying Francesco because it's the right thing to do.' I tell him, 'It's been in the constitution for years that queens have to have a husband before they're crowned, and the royal clans have decreed that I have to be married before I'm twenty-one to a royal to avoid my father's history repeating itself. Even if I'm never crowned, right now I'm still technically the only heir, especially since Charlie might not be home until I have to be married. How am I supposed to rule my people when I don't follow the rules myself?'

'Then answer me something.' He says, 'Being beside Francesco at the coronation the other day, did that feel right to you?'

I bite my lip, 'No.'

'And last night,' He pauses, 'Did that feel right?'

I don't answer him, but he knows what I'd say.

'I'm not saying you shouldn't marry Francesco, because I'll back anything you decide to do.' He reaches over and takes my hand, 'But I'll also do whatever I can do to make you happy, and there's a hundred other ways to help your country that don't mean you have to give up your whole future.'

'I know.' I admit, 'I would just feel like I'm letting everyone down.'

'Didn't you hear what everyone said to you this morning? There's nothing you could do that would disappoint them, or Charlie, or me.' He smiles at me, 'I'm not saying you'd never have to get engaged to Francesco, I can't promise that, it's not my decision. But it might buy you some time to-'

'What, date Asher?' I laugh out loud, 'To what end Leo? I can't live in London, and he can't live here. I still need to be engaged, whether it's now or another few years, and it can't be to him. And what? I sleep with him once and now I'm expected to know if I want to marry him?'

'It does take a while to print your faces on those mugs.' Emilio teases. I look at him seriously, 'Except you're not just sleeping with him, are you? There's something else there Z, you'd be an idiot not to see it.'

'Well let's hope my family are idiots then, so he keeps his job and I'm not grounded until I'm queen.' I chuckle.

'Listen, let's just focus on getting Charlie home and after that, I'll help you talk to your grandparents myself, okay? For now, just try keeping your hands off your bodyguard.' Emilio suggests.

He pauses for a second.

'Although I won't blame you if you can't, that's a difficult ask.' He turns back to his book, looking up and down the index, before flashing me a grin. I throw a cushion at him and he ducks his head.

Another second passes.

'Was it good?'

'Emilio!' I shout, burying my head in my hands while he cackles, 'Get Charlie home, then I'll tell you.'

'You're awfully antsy for someone who just got laid.' He says without looking at me, but I can hear the grin in his voice, 'This would all be far easier if he still had his title. You couldn't marry him, but you'd probably be allowed to screw him to your heart's content if he was still a clan member.'

'Is now a good time to mention this?' I say, dangling the envelope that my dad handed me. Emilio frowns and looks at me with his head to one side. I hand him the slip of paper and his jaw drops a little as he figures out what I've done.

Just as he's about to say something, the door opens again and Asher comes back with three coffees on a tray for us. When his back is turned, Emilio wiggles his eyebrows at me and mocks making out with himself. Asher almost catches him when he hands him a mug and he coughs to cover his actions.

'Hey, can I talk to you for a second?' I say to Asher, taking the paper back from Emilio. Asher nods and I direct him a little way away from Emilio.

'Don't hook up between the stacks.' He mutters as I pass him, and I kick his leg swiftly and carry on walking, 'Didn't I say I'd end up getting kicked?'

'Is everything okay?' Asher asks once we're out of Emilio's earshot.

'Everything's fine.' I tell him, and try not to realise how painfully close we are between the tight shelves, 'I got you something.'

'I don't think you quite understand how birthdays work.' He says as I hand him the envelope and he opens it, frowning at the paper, 'An appointment card from your father. I don't understand, what is this?'

'Do you remember what you were saying about royal clans reclaiming their title, when we were dancing back in London?' I ask.

'Yeah, I remember, why?' He questions.

'Well, the Founders Council is meeting tomorrow to formally introduce my father as king. They have a couple of items on their agenda, but I've pulled a few strings.' I explain carefully, 'There's some space at the end of their meeting for you to say a few words.'

'About what?' He frowns, 'Do they want to hear my speech from the careers assembly?'

'I'll kick you out of the country myself if you dare.' I warn him and then take a deep breath, 'Tomorrow, you can ask the clans about reclaiming your title.'

'I have to present myself to the Founding Families?' He asks, a little baffled.

'Only if you want them to.' I tell him, 'If you want your title back, you can just go in and appeal to them. Tell them about your father's disappearance and ask to take the title in his place.'

'From my father?' He asks.

'You're the last Thorne heir so there's no other present member who can reject the title on your family's behalf. I asked my dad, and he says it's possible.' I tell him, 'If you don't want to and this was a completely stupid idea, then rip up the paper and we don't have to talk about it again. I just thought-'

'This is incredible.' He says. He finishes gazing at the paper and looks back up at me, 'Thank you Zia, really. This is...'

He trails off, without words to say, but loops his arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and try not to remember the last time they were there. He leans back a little and I notice the way that his eyes dart quickly to my lips, and then straight back up.

'We have things to do!' Emilio shouts a few rows away, demonstrating that we weren't as far out of earshot as we assumed.

He follows me back around to the armchairs and Asher takes up the book I was reading to see if there's anything else that he can use to remind himself of our lecture. Emilio already looks bored of his book even though he's only read about a paragraph. I'd like my brother home, don't get me wrong, but if I'd realised he was going to set me homework, I might have thought twice about it.

'Hey Z, there's a footnote here about another biography of Henri Sauval, do you wanna go see if you can find it?' Emilio says, hardly looking up.

He gives me the title of the book and I set off in the vague direction. When I find the inventory list beside the shelves, I notice the sleep incline that holds our book. There's a ladder a few feet away that I drag over and begin to climb up. It's a good thing I never developed a fear of heights, because the decorations on the wooden panelling of the library floor look like dots from so far up here.

'Henri, Henri, Henri.' I mutter to myself, looking over the inventory again when I don't find the book where it's supposed to be.

'Zia?' Someone shouts from below me and I startle.

The clipboard falls from my grasp and before my brain can decide what a bad idea it is, I lunge after it. The grip on my boots fails and the polished wood of the ladder slips out from underneath me. I'm falling faster than I can contemplate fully why.

Asher's face flashes before my eyes and I notice the fear in his features. I think he shouts my name again, but the sound of the wind whipping past my ears drowns out the noise. I close my eyes to brace myself for impact, and the longer I fall, the longer the seconds seem to take to pass.

With a sickening crunch that I don't recognise as my own bones, I land heavily on my back, knocking the wind out of my lungs and sending shooting pains throughout my whole body. There's shouting from both boys as they stand over me, but the waves of pain cover their questions. That's when I feel it.

A white hot dagger pain, a pain that I recognise from it's more dull form. It's my back.

This pain feels like flames, the same fire that burnt my back the first time. Flames that set fire to my dress and bubbled at my skin, setting the shrapnel in place, dangerously close to my spine. I've always felt the ache, never the metal, but now I can feel the sharp edges pushing on every nerve that exists between my discs.

It's a thousand needle stings in the same spot, like I've landed on a spike and impaled myself. If this pain wasn't so dangerously familiar, I'd be worried I'd landed on something that had torn open my skin and found a way to ignite every square inch of burned and broken flesh. I try to groan, but there's no air in my lungs.

I choke out what feels like a cry for someone to help me, but my throat seems to be getting smaller and smaller and my lungs cannot expand. I try not to imagine Christopher's face, or whether this pain compares to his, but there's tears blinding my eyes and ringing blasting in my ears, and I'm alone in the in between of pain and complete oblivion.

As my eyes close and the pain becomes too much to let me stay awake, I notice that no matter how hard I try, I can't move my legs.

I can't see anything. I can't hear Emilio anymore.

I can't move at all.