When I wake up in the middle of the night, my back has become so stiff that it takes me almost ten minutes to wiggle my body back into being able to function. I roll over as best as I can, to find Klaus spread across the other side. He's got his head in the pillow, shuffling every few minutes through his dream.

After Klaus dropped his bomb last night, Asher and Augustus left to go find Quigley, who had stormed out somewhere in between Klaus and I's wedding, and our third child, whom he wants to name after his grandmother. With no one left to supervise him, and my body too weak to push him down the stairs, he took up a place beside me in bed, claiming it might as well happen sooner rather than later.

I complained for a long time, but true to his personality, he cared so little, that he was asleep before I managed to make a dint. He's not a noisy sleeper, and he doesn't toss and turn much, but for some reason, I'm finding it hard to keep myself asleep, just knowing he's there. I try not to think about Asher letting go of my hand, but the feeling keeps playing over in my head.

I decide there's no point lying in the dark anymore, and I've had too many years of insomnia to try and kid myself that anything's going to change. It's only four in the morning, way too early for anyone else to be awake, but I figure between my nap yesterday afternoon and some light sleep in the early hours, this is as best as I'm going to do.

I peel the covers away from me, unusually hot, given I slept in Klaus' jumper, because I couldn't bear the idea of laying in just a cropped top beside him. There's some pain when I sit up, so I swallow some more painkillers that Klaus brought with him, and wait a few more moments for them to kick in.

When I get to my feet, I sway a little with the new sensation. I wonder for a moment if my balance is going to need some getting-used-to, since it's been almost ten years since the shrapnel was first in my back. I never knew how heavy they were, and I smile as I admit that funnily enough, I might miss those little diamond friends fused to my spine.

I think about them for a second, remembering how Asher said Emilio had saved them for me to see. I wonder if, in all the chaos and confusion, they'll have thrown them away at the hospital. I know it's early, and it's probably due to lack of sleep, but I touch my back gently over the bandage, and feel a little bit of nostalgia for not having something there anymore.

I decide, halfway through a strange feeling of missing some bomb fragments in my skin that should never have been there, that at least it'll make airport security so much easier now, and it puts the feeling back to bed.

I don't follow it however, walking quietly over to the door. I could slam it, wake up Klaus and be a dick, but it'd probably wake everyone else up too, and I know the Greenewood triplets when they're sleepy, and it's not something I'd choose to optionally encounter. I stand in the hall for a minute, debating where to go. I'm assuming someone's been left saddled with sleeping on the couch, so I can't sit there, but it's close to the kitchen, and I would desperately like a drink, so I take the risk.

I tip toe my way over the banister, holding on carefully so I don't trip and fall down, mainly because I don't want to wake everyone, but also I don't want to have to risk letting Klaus back near me with a needle.

I look over into the living room and see Asher, tucked under a blanket. He's curled up on the sofa, and he must have accidentally fallen asleep because he's midway through watching something on TV. He's almost at the end of a movie on an old channel, and I can tell he didn't mean to fall asleep, because his glasses are still perched on his nose. Despite that, he looks really comfortable.

I stand for a minute, not really knowing what to do with myself. I didn't come downstairs hoping to join him, but when I look over, the disappointment of knowing that I can't makes it feel a lot like I did. I bite my lip and notice an uneasy pain. I look at him, sleeping peacefully and I want to go down and be with him.

But the pain comes, because I know I can't. Maybe in our apartment in London, when Emilio laughed because he fell asleep on my bed, but not now, not anymore. A week has changed everything, and I can't explain what I would do to go back to that night. I've encountered being punched in the stomach before, but this pain doesn't seem to fade as fast.

I've tried not to think about it, but Emilio's right. I know I can't be with Asher. If I were a nobody, I could walk down the rest of the stairs, tuck my head onto his shoulder and know what it feels like to be close to him. But I can't, because the rules tell me so. Asher can have anyone without a title, or a country, or a dead older brother, anyone, but me.

And God, that hurts.

Asher is asleep almost sitting up, but with his legs outstretched onto Charlie's coffee table, and his head flopped onto the cushion beside him. He's hardly moving, and as much as I teased him once, he doesn't actually snore. He's peaceful and quiet, and content. I try to remember how it felt when Asher slept next to me, but I can't.

You can't remember, because he wasn't there when you woke up.

I try not to think about the dawn in the next few hours, when I'll have to wake up by myself again. I don't want to imagine what waking up beside Asher would feel like, because I never have, because he had to run as fast as he could that morning just to save his job.

Asher and I are a dream, a beautiful, earth shatteringly unobtainable one, and a dream that will leave only a fading memory when it ends.

As I stand by myself on Charlie's stairs, I realise that sleeping with Asher was the worst thing I could have possibly done.

*

I spend the rest of the morning in Zoë's bed, after I crawled in beside her in the early hours. She woke up only briefly to survey my miserable face before shuffling up closer to her cousin and letting me in so she could cuddle me back to sleep. She didn't mention anything, but I know she noticed the heartache, because in the morning, she keeps checking that I'm okay.

She wakes me up to go downstairs and get breakfast, where Asher and Esther are already awake, sitting at Charlie's island with a cup of coffee. Neither Asher nor I say anything as Zoë and I attempt to make us all some food, which is made harder by her wrestling me back into a chair every thirty seconds.

Zoë's brothers and mine eventually come fumbling down the stairs after each other, rubbing at their eyes and yawning loudly. Gus clocks my face and even though he doesn't say anything, he comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck and leaning his head on mine comfortingly. I don't think he knows the source of my misery, but there's plenty of options  he could choose from.

I flick through some articles about my disappearance and try not to feel the sting when I see a photograph of my father, hair that he's tried to flatten down and bags under his eyes. The photo shows him with my mother, holding his jacket around her so the press can't see what I'm sure must be a face that's spent two days crying.

Charlie nudges me and promises I can talk to Emilio later, which cheers me up a little. Esther and Zoë disappear upstairs after breakfast to dress, and soon after, Gus and Quigley decide they should also put some proper clothes on. The disturbance seems to wake Klaus, who comes bouncing down the stairs, a wide smile on his face, clearly ready to cause more chaos.

Charlie sees him coming and disappears up the stairs, but not before he tries to trip Klaus over as he walks towards me. Klaus simply skips over the outstretched foot and carries on. Asher rolls his eyes and I try not to see it as anything more than annoyance at Klaus' general personality.

When Klaus sits himself up on the counter, I notice that he's wearing a jumper that has holes in the sleeves. I hate to admit it, but we're definitely more alike than I give us credit for. I guess the whole 'opposites attract' thing must be right then, because the idea of marrying him still repulses me as much as it did last night.

'How did you sleep?' Klaus asks, chewing on some toast that was left over, 'I had a wonderful time, Charlie really does have some quite comfortable mattresses.'

'I wouldn't know. I didn't get any sleep, you snored all night.' I bite back, even though it's not true.

'Now I know I didn't do that.' He grins, 'My lovely wife, why are you trying to cause issues so early in our relationship? That's a sign you're going to be trouble.'

'I'm going to give you trouble.' Asher mutters under his breath, and I let out a breath, acknowledging that sitting in between the two boys in the kitchen this morning, I'd rather be in the hands of The Court.

'Do you want a drink?' I ask him, and he looks at me, a confused smile on his cheeks.

'I suppose as husband and wife we should probably know each other's coffee orders.' Klaus shrugs even when I shove his shoulder, 'Yes I would.'

When I start brewing, Klaus jumps down and begins to wiggle a little beside me. I look at him as he starts humming, a tune I remember from my childhood. I cross my arms and try to ignore him as he begins twirling around behind me, still cherpily whistling to Beauty and the Beast. He grabs a hand towel from the side and loops it over his head to make himself some hair.

'There's something sweet and almost kind,' He begins to sing in a voice that sounds scarily like a woman's. Asher scoffs, and picks up the newspaper, but continues to watch him behind the pages, 'But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined. And now he's dear, and so unsure - I wonder why I didn't see it there before.'

'What are you doing?' I ask him, as he removes the towel and flexes his muscles.

'It's our love song, I'm debating it for the wedding.' He gasps between lines, switching to a low, gruff growl, 'She glanced this way, I thought I saw-'

'Stop it.'

'And when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw.' He reaches out and taps my arm quickly, recoiling dramatically and flinging himself around the kitchen, knocking a bowl of Charlie's to the floor where it smashes. He pays no notice and obliviously carries on, 'No, it can't be, I'll just ignore - but then she's never looked at me that way before.'

'Will you give it a rest?' I snap.

'It's your turn-' Klaus interrupts, throwing the towel over my head this time. When I don't react, he continues my lines for me.

'New and a bit alarming, who'd have ever thought that this could be?' Klaus sings in a painfully off-key way, 'True that he's no prince Charming - Marzia, that's a horrible thing to say about your husband!'

'Does this make you the beast then?' I question him, but he just ignores me.

'But there's something in him that I simply didn't see-'

'Klaus, please!' I bark, pulling the hand towel off my head, 'Stop it.'

'Make me.' He grins.

With just two words, everything I remember from last night comes bursting back into my chest. True, Klaus might be a nightmare, but watching him prance around the kitchen was at least a good distraction. I look back at Asher whose hand has abandoned his newspaper to go limp as he recognises the words.

Klaus' eyes narrow and I start to walk away before he can say anything. I make it to the table before Asher comes over to help me. I'm getting faster, which is good because I'm taking my chances on going out for a jog and not coming back. I can think of a thousand places I'd rather be than in a house with my fiance and my bodyguard.

Klaus turns around to finish the coffee I started as Asher takes a seat opposite me. I try to pretend like I don't see him, but there's literally nothing else for me to look at, so I have to. He's got his eyebrows pulled a little together on his forehead as if he's concerned.

'How's your back?' He asks me as he shuffles himself uncomfortably on Charlie's hardly used furniture.

'It's fine.' I lie, because it's beginning to throb the longer it's been since I last had medication, 'How'd you sleep on Charlie's sofa? That can't have been comfortable.'

'I bet it was better than sharing with Klaus.' He chuckles.

'Yeah, or me.' I say before I can stop myself.

He looks up at me, guilt clouding his eyes and the slight shock registering on his features. I smile at him because it's the only thing I can think to do to cover up what I'm sure must be a mixture of pain and confusion on my face. I know I can't have him, I know that when we go home, Asher and I have to forget each little touch, I just didn't expect to have to forget this fast.

I was hoping our bubble might last a tiny bit longer first.

'Marzia-'

'It's fine.' I say, brushing it off because I really don't want to have this conversation, 'Have you found out anything about Ezekiel?'

He looks at me for a second, debating whether or not to argue with me, before he pulls the application form from his back pocket. He unfolds the creases and passes it over to me so I can see it.

'I haven't had a chance.' Asher shrugs, 'I've been trying to remember anything about his death from when I was a child, but given that it might not have actually happened, I'm not sure how much help I'll be.'

'Maybe Charlie can help?' I suggest.

'Charlie can help with what?' Charlie asks as he comes down the stairs, book piling high in his arms, 'If it's anything family related, you're most likely in luck.'

'Not our family, but if you know anything about Asher's, then you can try.' I say, holding out the application. Charlie puts down the books, and sits down next to me.

'Ezekiel Thorne?' He squints, rubbing at his temples, 'The name rings a bell.'

'It does?' Asher asks, surprised.

'A very distant bell, but yeah.' Charlie says, walking over to his bookcase and pulling a folder out. He rummages for a second, Asher never taking his eyes from him, even when the triplets come downstairs and crowd around the research that Charlie begins spreading across the carpet, 'Ezekiel... but where from?'

He continues to mumble to himself for a while, as I cross over to help him search. Asher picks up a pile by the door and begins to flip through for any mention of a recognisable name. The triplets don't pick anything up, but they watch over my shoulder. As I flick past a page about a family tree that doesn't resemble Asher's, Quigley grabs my shoulder.

'Wait, what's that?' He says, reaching over to point out the name.

'Ezekiel.' I say simply, looking up to Charlie and Asher who walk over to where I'm standing.

I drop the rest of the papers, leaving only the family ancestry in my hands. I look up at the top and realise that I'm holding a family tree for Asher's aunt's family - the Van Doren's. Right at the top, underneath an Asselin and Eilaria from 1769, is an Ezekiel Van Doren, born in 1798.

'Dead end.' Asher scowls when he sees the dates, and he and Asher turn back to the table to focus on something else. I furrow my brow, turning around as my brain moves a million miles a minute.

'Charlie, why do you have this?' I ask him.

'Have what?' He asks over his shoulder, and I wave the paper at him, 'The Van Doren family tree? It was relevant at some point, I can't remember why.'

Asher, still confused by my continued line of questioning, comes to stand beside me so he can look at the paper. It only goes as far down as what must be Asher's grandfather Dimitrius Van Doren, and there's no mention of his mother, or of him, and therefore Asher is kind of right - it doesn't help us locate Ezekiel right now, unless Asher somehow has a relative who is two hundred and sixteen years old.

But the fact that this paper exists in Charlie's house, bugs me.

'What was this relevant for?' I ask.

'Marzia, I don't know, how does this help us prepare for my plan?' Charlie says, shaking his head at me, 'We've got a few days, maximum, before we have to act and - no offense, Asher - this what you want to be talking about?'

'Yeah it is.' I bite back, 'Find out why you have this.'

He rolls his eyes at my demand, but comes storming over anyway, taking the paper and finding the others that came after it. After a few more minutes of tense silence, Charlie slaps two more sheets of paper down on the table for us to see.

'Here - the Van Doren ancestors, Asselin and Eilaria, were the two who tipped off the Thorne family about the trap waiting for the Alanian soldiers by the Black Forest. The Thorne's then came and told us, and you know the rest.' Charlie explains quickly, 'So there's your early eighteenth century Alanian history, satisfied?'

'What happened to them, Asselin and his wife?' I ask.

'Marzia-'

'Charlie, what happened to them?' I push.

He flips over the paper, and shows a scrawl of his handwriting, 'The French monarchy heard about their betrayal, and executed them both.'

'What about their son, Ezekiel?'

'There's no point-'

'Please Charlie!' I almost shout. The triplets look between themselves as I raise my voice. Charlie runs a hand through his hair and scowls at me.

'They left him alive, but stripped him of his money, his title, his house. He tried to appeal to the Moreau clan for help, but they refused.'

'Why did they refuse?' I ask.

'Ezekiel Van Doren claimed that they had told the Moreau clan about the trap - when they hadn't relayed the information to Alaric Castille, he passed it along to the Thorne family, and then the Thorne family told us instead. It's why the Moreau clan was moved down in line for the throne. They had an internal investigation to try and prove his claim, but they never could.' Charlie says, 'The Van Doren's claimed they had told Casimis Moreau and Gillespie Thorne about the danger, and claimed they should be made a founding family too.'

'And we said no?' I piece together.

'I guess we must have.' Charlie shrugs, 'After the Moreau family were cleared of any wrongdoing, I guess they didn't have enough proof to help them.'

'Or they didn't want to.' I say, 'Do you know where Ezekiel lived after he was forced out of his home?'

'What do I look like, a fucking wizard?' Charlie asks, 'How am I meant to know that? Why is any of this relevant anyway? So there just happens to be two Ezekiel's in all of Alanian history? What does this have to do with Asher?'

'My ancestors, my grandparents - they're Thorne and Van Doren.' Asher explains.

'Well, that's cool knowing your ancestors hated each other.' Charlie says, 'But there's still no point to any of this.'

'What if there is?' I say slowly, my brain debating whether or not to continue with whatever it has planned to say.

'How?' Asher asks.

'Did you ever meet your grandfather - Dimitrius?' I think aloud, checking the bottom of the page.

'No, never.' He shrugs.

'Would Ursula know where he is?' I suggest.

'It wouldn't matter anyway, I can't exactly call her and ask - we're meant to be missing Zia.' He tells me and I scowl, sitting down at the table and grabbing Charlie's laptop that is buried under a hundred books.

'He must exist somewhere.' I grumble, opening Google. Charlie watches as I fail with a basic search and eventually, he takes the laptop from me and starts tapping at the keys angrily, 'Thanks Charlie.'

'You owe me.' He says without looking up at me. He slaps another key and then begins to tell me what he's found, 'He lived in Paris, he died in 2008 but it doesn't say from what -hold on, here's a photo.'

As Asher peers to look at the screen, I look at the photo and my stomach drops. My jaw swings low and my chest loses all oxygen. I put a hand over my mouth and swallow what feels like sandpaper. My head begins to shake involuntarily and I want to push the laptop away and hide. Even through a screen, the eyes still seem to find me and his face still serves to send chills up and down my spine.

'Marzia, what?' Asher asks.

I can't make words form in my mouth and I close my eyes to block out the memory, but I can't. It stabs into my eyes and into my ears, my nose and mouth and everything I felt in that warehouse comes flooding back to me.

'We have to move!' Someone shouts behind us.

I look over to Christopher who sends me a comforting smile as someone comes rushing over to our chairs. They hurriedly cut away our ropes, and the pain from the open sores almost covers when he nicks my ankle with the knife. Christopher is standing before I am and he rushes over, despite being told not to.

He grabs my arms and pulls me into a hug, protecting me with his body that is eight years older than mine. There's a clatter from behind us and the hug is over before I can process that it has begun. I'm still flinching from any touch, my body has been on fire with pain for so long that I anticipate pain with every breath, every second.

'Walk.' A man instructs us, pointing a gun up at my brother's head, almost daring us to defy him. I beg in my mind for Christopher to keep his head down and follow his instructions, but he pushes me behind him and stands as though he's ready to fight. The figure adjusts his aim so the barrel of the gun is level with my right eye, 'Or do you need some incentive?'

'Okay, okay.' Christopher says, holding up his hands, 'I'll walk, just don't hurt her.'

He takes my hand and grips it tightly, pulling me along behind him as he walks in short paces where we're told. I can tell he's in just as much pain as me, and his bare feet scratch against the floor of the warehouse as he drags them, exhausted, over the rough gravel.

We've been sitting in the same place for weeks, and for the first time, I can see more of my prison. There's stairs in the far corner, and after a hundred discussions and a million thoughts as to where they might lead, we're shoved up them to find out for ourselves.

The man keeps the gun level with the back of Christopher's head, and I try my best to not blink so that the tears blurr the threat. I blindly follow my brother, trusting that no matter what, he'll keep me safe.

The man is wearing all black, it's all that any of them ever wear, but he's got a hat on his head that comes lower than the other's. His hair is in front of his eyes, but the golden pools still spill out from underneath. They're glaring at us, and they're so bright, even in the dark, that my twelve year old brain wonders if he's some kind of superhuman.

We reach the top of the stairs, and there's chains swinging across a metal bridge that leads to an exit. We've shoved forwards, tripping over the rivets and getting my toes caught in between the slats. I keep hold of Christopher's hand, tucking my head into his back and trying to block out the pain. I'm freezing cold, but I'm sweating and the salt water drips into my open wounds and it takes everything not to cry out with the pain.

We reach the door, and a man in front of us disappears through, instructing for us to stay here. From behind us, there's a sudden whoosh, like a river that's burst its banks, or a fire - oh God, the fire.

I turn around, looking at the fast spreading flames as they climb the walls towards us. Christopher looks at me, and over at the man, who notices us looking around.

'Head forward!' The man shouts, pushing the barrel of the gun into Christopher's skull.

I know my brother well enough to know that the gleam in his eye isn't just reflective of the fire that burns around us. He's about to push his luck, gambling with what little life we have left. His hand balls up by his side, but I can see the safety is off on the gun, and there's no way that Christopher makes it out of this stunt alive.

He shoots out his hand, making a grab for the gun and pushing me to the side, out of the line of fire as he does. There's a split second where Christopher looks as if he's going to be successful, but then the gun is yanked away and the barrel is brought down to the side of his head, blood quickly forming from his temple.

'I've had just about enough of you, Your Highness.' The man with the golden eyes seethes, 'I only need one royal heir, you've just about outlived your worth.'

The man cocks the gun, pressing it tightly in between Christopher's eyes. I whimper from my place beside him, fear and the heat clouding my vision and my thoughts.

'Marzia, don't look.' Christopher says through a hoarse throat. He closes his eyes but mine are wide and panicked.

Christopher pauses for a second to let in a breath and prepare himself.

But I don't. There's a bang from behind us as the metal bends and groans, and our guard turns around to check how close the flames are to us, whipping his head around in an instant.

I don't think about it. I don't even know what my hands are doing, until they've done it. I don't register that I have pushed the man, until I see him lying, one floor down, legs sprawled at an unnatural angle, and blood splattered across the concrete where his head has split open.

Christopher ducks quickly with the movement, and then looks down at me. He kneels low, dragging my head into his shoulder so I don't have to look at what I've just done. For the first time, I notice how much Chris is shaking and I grip at him, trying to stop him from being so scared. I've just saved him, that man was going to hurt him, and I've just saved his life.

'He was going to hurt you.' I cry into him. He tries to shush me, but I carry on, 'I didn't want him to hurt you Chris, but I - oh my God. I hurt that man.'

Christopher pushes me back, gripping my face so tightly that it hurts me a bit.

'You didn't do anything wrong, okay?' He says urgently. He puts my hand on his chest and looks at me, 'Feel that? My heartbeat? You kept that beating, you have kept me going Marzia. You're the bravest person I know.'

'Chris, what's mum going to say? I'm not allowed to hurt people.' I cry, the pain becoming momentarily back-seat.

'Don't worry about mum, she'll understand. Dad and Charlie too when we see them again.' He smiles reassuringly, 'We need to run, are you going to be able to run with me, kiddo?'

'Yes.' I nod even though I'm not so sure.

When there's more clashing from behind us, and the heat becomes almost too much to bear, he gives me one last nod. He stands up, spinning us around and beginning our first few footsteps towards the exit.

It swings open.

'Going somewhere Your Highness?' Someone asks in a mocking tone.

Our freedom that danced upon my eyes a moment ago becomes as broken as the man I just pushed. Christopher tucks me into his side and shakes his head, standing at such an angle as to cover up what I just did. The guard looks around, but doesn't see the other man, and as the bridge behind us snaps with the sweltering heat, he puts a gun up to us and forces us through the door and into a van that's waiting for us.

'Marzia!' Charlie says, shaking my shoulder and I snap away from the memory.

There are tears running down my cheeks and Zoë's face is more worried than I ever remember seeing it. I look at Charlie and Asher, standing over me and exchanging a look with one another. I look back at the photograph and swallow down the worst thing that I've ever done.

I didn't know his name then. But I do now.

'He kidnapped us, Chris and me.' I say, the words bleeding from my tongue with great effort, given that my brain has lost all ability to function. I want to look at Asher's face, but I can't. I can't take my eyes off Dimitrius Van Doren.

I can't take my eyes off the only man that I have ever killed.

'My grandfather?' Asher says, but his voice is unclear and it feels like I'm underwater.

'He tortured us, he lit us up with jumper cables and slashed at us with razors.' I tell him, with no emotion to my words. There's no way I can tell Asher that I killed his grandfather, but it's something I'm going to have to do, 'He died in the warehouse, he fell from the second floor.'

'He fell?' Charlie frowns.

For the first time, I look up at Asher whose eyes are darting back and forth at Charlie and me. Charlie lets out a breath as he realises what I'm about to say, but I savor just a second of Asher looking at me like this, normally. He's never going to look at me the same when I tell him this, there's no way back. I swallow.

'I pushed him.'

Charlie hangs his head, keeping a supportive hand on my shoulder but I can hear his brain whirring around as I hand him our kidnapper's identity on a silver platter. That platter just so happens to also hold the murder of Asher's family, the only hope of us, broken and bleeding.

'He had a gun to Christopher's head, I just didn't want him to hurt us anymore.' I say, the words getting caught in between my teeth and my tongue, and descending back down my throat, 'I didn't mean to kill him, I just wanted him to put the gun down.'

'Oh my God, I can't listen to this.' Zoë says quietly from her corner, and Quigley tucks her head into his shoulder the same way Christopher did with me. I blink out more tears, refusing to look at Asher. There's a small pattering going on behind me and I see Klaus at Charlie's computer.

'I didn't mean to.' I admit, saying out loud the secret I've never told anyone.

Afterwards, I heard about the body from the warehouse, but he was so badly burnt that they never found out what happened to him. The only person who saw me kill Asher's grandfather was Christopher, and he was dead within the next hour. I never told my dad, or my mum, or Emilio. I've never told anyone, until his face stares at me from Charlie's laptop and his grandson stands over me.

'I don't mean to add insult to injury,' Klaus interrupts and Charlie turns around to him, taking back the laptop, 'I looked at Dimitrius' records, I found some of his bank statements, and he was paying for school fees and an apartment, medical insurance and a driver's license for years - I think I found Ezekiel, the one from the application.'

Charlie reads for a second, before turning to Asher, who is ghostly white and still unable to say anything, 'Dimitrius paid tuition for a child at an academically advanced school starting in 1999, and finished a year later in 2000.'

'That's the year Ezekiel died.' Asher says, his voice low and monosyllabic.

'I don't know.' Charlie reads, 'It looks like he moved schools, quite suddenly. I'm in his files now. It seems his had a food allergy, so they're linked to his medical records and-'

Charlie's fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment, and his eyes fleet over the screen, over to Asher and back again. It feels like the whole room is holding its breath as we watch my brother.

'Charlie.' Asher says slowly.

'Ezekiel's your brother, Ash.' Charlie says, looking at him, 'Pandora and Rusty's son, and your older brother.'

Asher grabs the laptop and he's close enough that I can see across to the screen. There, in black and white, is Ezekiel Thorne's birth certificate, born June 11th, 1992 to parents Pandora and Rusty Thorne. It's there, undeniable.

'My brother,' Asher chokes out, dropping the laptop, 'A brother.'

'Your aunt never mentioned anything?' Charlie asks him but I shake my head.

'He was dropped on his aunt's doorstep when he was seven. She didn't even know Asher had been born, let alone a brother.' I say, and Asher nods to the sound of my voice, showing that I'm right.

'Did he die, when I was four? Like I thought he did?' Asher swallows. Charlie takes the laptop and types for a minute, but then bites down on his lip, 'He didn't, did he? He's alive, my brother.'

'He's alive.' Charlie confirms, 'He must have put in the application because he thought he was the only one left.'

'No, someone put it in on his behalf, he would've only been a kid.' Klaus says, looking down at the paper, 'Not if he was born in 1992, it's not possible.'

'Who can put in these types of applications, on behalf of children?' Augustus asks from the corner. Charlie doesn't look at Asher, only down at the table, even though he's no longer looking at the papers.

'His parents.' Charlie says.

'No one else?' Zoë asks hesitantly.

'No one else.' Charlie confirms.

'If this is a grudge, from my ancestors to yours, it wouldn't be my father - would it? A Van Doren, not a Thorne. It would be my mother.' Asher raises a hand to his head, and runs it through his hair, 'My mum, is she alive?'

I exchange a look with Charlie and I wonder if my head is spinning around on my shoulders like it feels like it is inside my brain. Asher looks between the two of us and up at Zoë who is holding her breath.

'She has to be.' Charlie admits. I know he must be right. I killed Asher's grandfather before Christopher died, if the line had ended, no one would have blown up my brother's funeral, no one would have tried to take me from the hospital. Ezekiel would've only been fifteen years old when they tried to kill Charlie, 'Pandora Thorne is the King of The Court.'

There's a few seconds where nothing in the room moves. No one takes a breath, no one thinks a thought, everyone sits in complete and total shock, as the information drowns us.

I look at Asher and see the seven year old boy who was dumped on a doorstep with no family and my heart breaks for him. There's tears dangerously close to streaming down his face and his breathing is short and shuddering. I know I can't stand up and hold him, because I'm not enough. I'm not his family, and even worse, I'm the one who hurt them.

He looks down at me and takes a sharp breath in. The first tear breaks free and falls. He glances around desperately for one of us to tell him we're joking, or offer up a solution that fixes everything. But the only thing we can do is watch him as everything he never knew comes crashing down on him. He grips the back of my chair, and in a swift movement that none of us expect, he swings around and his hand collides with the wall, plaster raining down onto Charlie's floor.

He turns around, lets out a large sob, and then turns back to glare at Charlie.

'My grandfather hurt Marzia.' He says, his voice cracking when he says my name. Charlie waits patiently for a question, 'Is my - does my - are they still doing this to her? Did they kill Christopher, and blow up the hospital, and shoot that nurse?'

Charlie looks at Klaus, who looks at the laptop again, nodding quietly so he doesn't interrupt the silence. For once, I'm glad he's being a decent person.

'She's the King.' Charlie repeats himself, trying desperately not to say the words that Asher needs. After a few seconds, he nods his head, 'Your mother did this, your grandfather, your brother - they did this to us.'

'They killed Christopher.' Asher says, dazed, as though the words aren't coming from him. He lets out a sob and looks down at me, 'They hurt you.'

'Asher-' I whisper, but no other words come out.

Asher shakes his head, backing away from the table and all of us. He turns around and I notice how much his hand is shaking and there's blood dripping on the floor from where the plaster has cut into his knuckles and he's not noticed. He looks back at us all, closing his eyes and taking a breath that is followed by another, too fast and far too panicked.

'I have to get out of here.' Asher says, throwing open Charlie's front door and disappearing without another word.

I put my head in my hands and Charlie sits down beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and holding me while I sob. I cry for the man I killed, I cry for how much it's hurt his grandson, I cry for every unfair thing that has happened to me, and to Asher and I cry because I didn't think it was possible for this much pain to exist in one room.

'I'm going to go after him, make sure he doesn't hurt himself.' Klaus says, standing up and grabbing two jackets, one for him, and one for Asher who left without one.

'He hates you,' Zoë says from her place in the corner. I look around and see Esther, who has watched this all unfold from her place sitting on the stairs, 'Take Esther. You can keep them both safe, and she can talk him down.'

Esther nods, quickly, and the pair of them bundle up in warm clothing, before running out to chase after my bodyguard. Zoë sits down, holding my hand tightly and looks at Charlie and me, curled up on chairs, having finally figured out who is hurting us, and how much worse it is than we ever thought.

'Are you okay?' She asks gently, and I nod my head, even if I don't believe myself, just like I did when I was twelve in that warehouse with Christopher.

I look up at Charlie, and over to the papers on his table and a thought occurs to me. I stand up as quickly as my back will let me, dry my eyes and look at Charlie. He's watching with confusion as I hold up multiple pieces of paper, trying to make sense of them.

'Now you know that Pandora is the King, do you need to change your plan?' I ask Charlie, who exchanges a look with Zoë.

'No, it'll still work.' He says slowly.

'Then show me.' I tell him, but he doesn't move.

'You know they're going to hurt you worse because of what you did to Dimitrius.' He says carefully, making sure he doesn't use the word 'kill', 'I can't warn you about how bad it might get.'

'We don't have a choice.' I swallow, 'I will not ask Asher to choose between his mother and me. Tell me the plan now, and I'll leave before morning. Asher doesn't have to know anything.'

'We can wait longer, now that we know-' Charlie starts.

'No we can't, that's bullshit and you know it.' I interrupt him, 'Asher got his title back, which automatically means that Pandora and Ezekiel do too. They can walk into our society with damn near diplomatic immunity and kill us from the inside out. We do this now.'

Charlie nods slightly, standing up and retrieving a folder from the end of the table, 'Okay.'

*

'I love you brother, but you've officially lost it.' I tell him.

For the past hour, Charlie has been laying out the plan he hasn't shut up about since I found him in East Laumant. He's been boasting about the genius his brain can cook up but by the look on my face, and on the faces of the triplets, I think we can all safely agree that he's lost his tiny mind.

I keep my phone right beside my hand in case Klaus calls. He's already texted to say that they've found Asher, and they're following him, but I won't feel safe until he's back here with us. I have no idea what to say to him, but I tell myself to cross that bridge when I get to it, and I put all my focus into the God-awful plan that Charlie's just shared with us.

'Seriously pal, I'll fight your fight until the gates of hell,' Quigley says, shaking his head, 'But this is nuts.'

Sometimes I forget that the triplets are also friends with my brother. With his absence, they've neglected their friendship, but I remember all the nights when the five of us would hang out, sometimes with Christopher if he could stand our childish attitude for that long. Quigley has always been a strong defender of my brother, and I know Charlie's always loved the three of them almost as much as me.

'Why is it so crazy?' Charlie says, gesturing towards the documents on the table, 'It's going to work.'

He's clearly extremely pissed off that he's not getting the praise he was expecting. He said he ran the idea before Emilio, who told him he was stupid, but that when he explained it to Loki when they borrowed his painkillers, apparently he'd said it seemed okay to him. But we all share in the knowledge that Loki's rationale isn't the smartest or most forward thinking, and I think he's having too much of an effect on my older brother.

'Charlie-' I begin carefully.

'Why wouldn't it work?' Charlie argues.

'Well, first of all darling, you don't know how to do surgery.' Zoë suggests.

'Yeah, plus the fact that you can't guarantee that any of this is going to work and she won't just be shot on sight.' Augustus cuts in, holding up one of the pieces of paper.

'Yes I can.' Charlie argues, ruffling around the sheets for the one he's looking for.

'How?' Gus pushes him further.

'Ah!' Charlie says, as he pulls up the white paper with only two sentences scribbled in his handwriting, 'Because she's going make a phone call.'

'Oh my God, you're going to die.' Quigley mutters, dropping his head onto the table.

'Please tell me you're joking Charlie.' Zoë pushes, 'You've had six years, and this is the best you could come up with?'

'Oh, I'm sorry.' Charlie says, putting a hand on his heart and acting deeply offended, 'Please explain to me how you'd like to locate their leaders without doing the surgery.'

'A bracelet?' Gus suggests.

I don't agree much with Charlie, but even I have to look at Gus across the table with utter amazement that he ever passed the training to become an agent in the first place. Zoë, who has had no training whatsoever, shoves his arm and rolls her eyes. I love him, but sometimes he's a huge idiot.

'Marzia,' Charlie catches my eye and I look down, knowing as ridiculous as his plan sounds, it might be the only chance, 'Can you think of any other way to get these bastards?'

I move around a piece of paper, looking down at the little chip's description. It's the size of my thumbnail, but the idea of it being in my neck causes a shiver down my spine. I look at the receipt for Charlie's surgical kit and bite my lip when I see the sharpness of the scalpel, and the needle my brother has no idea how to use.

'You're right.' I tell him, and the triplets snap to look at me, 'It's the only way. I trust you.'

'You shouldn't.' Charlie smiles, but moves over to his kitchen cupboards anyway, 'What's your preference, tequila or vodka?'

'I can't watch this.' Zoë says, putting a hand over her mouth and disappearing from the table, and upstairs where she doesn't have to see this go down. Gus excuses himself to go check on her, but Quigley stays rooted to his seat, knowing Charlie will need some help.

'I'll take tequila please.' I say and Charlie pulls the liquid from the cupboard. I take a long swig from the bottle and he raises his eyebrows at me, 'I'm eighteen now, you don't get to say a word.'

'I'm just saying, leave some for me.' He shakes his head, 'I'm going to want to forget this as fast as possible afterwards.'

'Erm - you might need some for the actual procedure, you know?' Quigley reminds us and I pass over the bottle. He tries to cover up the small drink he takes when he turns his back, but Charlie and I just smile at him. Through the wince of the stinging esophagus pain, Quigley turns back around to us, 'I'm going to call Klaus and see if he brought anymore pain relief.'

Quigley crosses into the living room and presses a finger to his ear as the phone rings. I rub the back of my neck, as of yet untouched and lean myself against Charlie's counter, breathing deeply through the afternoon.

My phone hasn't updated me on Asher in a while and I look longingly at the door, hoping he'll come back through it. I want him here for this, I want him sitting beside me like he did at the hospital. But I think in the last few hours, I have dropped to the bottom of the list of people Asher is ever going to want to talk to. I swallow down the tears and watch Charlie as he gathers the things he's going to need.

'Are you sure about this?' He asks, even though the plan was his idea, 'With Asher and Pandora and his brother, we can wait.'

'You know we can't.' I say sadly, 'It's just a matter of time until they go after dad, or mum, or Adanna. I can't let them get hurt, and I've waited so long to bring you home.'

'Zia-'

'I told you,' I interrupt, 'I'm going to do everything I can to keep us safe.'

'I know it's my plan,' Charlie says, giving me a hug, 'But I really don't want you to go.'

I rest my head on his shoulder and smile, 'I'll come home, and you will too. I'll be fine Charlie, I promise.'

He nods but turns away quickly, covering up his fear, 'I was thinking, couldn't we just shove the chip in your back, between the stitches? Saves opening up a whole new wound.'

'They've already ripped open once, I can't risk them doing it again and the chip coming loose.' I tell him, 'It's fine.'

Quigley comes back into the kitchen, fiddling with his phone, with an uncomfortable look on his face, 'Klaus said he only brought a little bit of anesthetic, and he used it yesterday.'

'Asher?' I ask quietly.

Quigley pulls an apologetic face and shrugs a little, 'No news.'

Charlie looks at me, waiting once again for me to back down. Instead, I take the tequila back from Quigley and take a drink that feels like it lasts an eternity. Once I'm done, I'm almost positive that nothing could possibly hurt more than my throat anyway, so I nod at Charlie to tell him I'm ready.

'Input or output first?' He says weakly, holding up a scalpel in one hand, and a needle in the other.

I smile, because I know how much Charlie hates blood, and as much as I know this is going to hurt, I will take a little pleasure watching him hurl his guts up into the kitchen sink afterwards. I take a seat on the chair and point to the needle.

'I'm sure you can't screw up taking my blood, go for that one first.' I say, doubting my own words, because I know there's a million ways that Charlie could mess this up, and he probably will.

'We could just wait for Klaus.' Quigley suggests but I shake my head.

'Are you kidding? You do know he never had a doctorate, right?' I laugh, 'At least I know Charlie will try not to hurt me.'

I hope.

He sits opposite me, and Quigley hangs back, knowing this is the lesser dangerous of the two. Charlie slides the gloves onto his hands and all of a sudden loses his confidence, looking at the equipment lined up on his table, unable to figure out which one to start with. I take his hand, forcing him to look at me.

'I know what to do.' I tell him, trying to reassure him, so he stops shaking as much, 'I'll walk you through it.'

'How do you know?' He asks, timidly.

'I just got out of hospital Charlie.' He looks at me lopsided, and grins. I shake my head, 'Alright fine, Emilio and I really love hospital dramas, okay?'

'Lord help us.' Quigley throws his hands up.

'Okay first, splash a little bit of alcohol on my arm to disinfect the area.' I instruct him, and he picks up the liquid, and the tequila sloshes about as he shakes. He pours some, and when his arm twitches, half the bottle sloshes onto my lap, 'Charlie! I said a little.'

'If you think that's the worst thing that's about to happen to you, you're wrong.' Charlie mutters, 'That's not the part I would worry about.'

'Alright, now tie the tourniquet around my arm, just above my elbow.' I say.

'The what?'

'The rubber band thing, Charlie.' I roll my eyes, 'It's simple.'

'Not if you don't love hospital dramas it's not.' He argues, but ties the band the way I told him to anyway, 'Now what?'

'Erm-' I frown, 'I'm not sure.'

'Maybe I could use a torch to try to find the vein?' Charlie suggests, tripping over his own words at the ridiculous idea, 'Shine it through - your arm?'

'This is ridiculous.' Quigley says, grabbing Charlie's phone from the table and raising it to his ear. Charlie reaches out to try and grab it from him, but he jumps back, out of the way. After a few seconds, he passes it back, 'Talk.'

I put the phone on speaker.

'Hello?'

'What the hell are you doing calling me?' Loki's voice comes from over the crackle. Charlie swings his head back in annoyance, and uses a gloved finger to flip Quigley off, 'I told Charlie emergencies only. Considering you've not been kidnapped yet, I'd say there's no emergency.'

'When the hell did you decide to buy yourself a phone?' I squint.

'I didn't, your brother bought me one as a gift.' Loki snarls, 'I'm beginning to think that present came with strings.'

'I need your help.' I admit, biting my lip and glaring furiously at Quigley, 'I need you to help Charlie stick a needle in my arm.'

'Finally went with my heroin idea then?' Loki chuckles.

'He needs some of my blood.' I say, holding out the phone so Charlie can hear him better, 'Just talk him through it please.'

'Okay, have you got a tourniquet?' He asks over the phone.

'How does everyone know what one of these things is?' Charlie mutters.

'It's the perks of being a drug addict.' Loki replies happily enough, 'Okay, try and find a vein first. Unless our princess has done something she shouldn't have and damaged them, they should feel like little trampolines compared to the rest of her skin.'

Charlie begins poking my arm and eventually, he pushes a little harder and seems to find something springy like Loki said, 'Okay, I found it.'

'Alright, push the needle straight in. If you've done it right, you should see a flash of blood in the tube.' Loki says and I watch Charlie turn a little more white at the term 'flash' of my blood.

He pushes in the needle and I groan.

'This hurts.' I tell him, and watch as no flash of blood appears in the tube as promised.

'What do you expect? I've never drawn blood before.' Charlie snaps, stressed.

'I think you've hit bone.' I say, resisting the urge to slap his hand away.

'I'm not exactly enjoying the experience either.' Charlie says, panicked.

'Alright, just making sure we're on the same page.' I reply, leaning my head back so I don't have to watch him anymore, 'Loki, it didn't work.'

'Alright, pull the needle back a little, not all the way out of the skin and try pushing at another angle.' He instructs, 'If you've lost the vein, take the needle out and try again, fishing around is what hurts the most.'

Charlie pulls the needle back like he was told, and then proceeds to push it back into my arm. As promised, there's a flash of blood in the tube, which is covered up by the steady flow that begins from my arm down into the bag. I breathe out, thankful he can stop stabbing me now and leave my arm alone for a while.

'How much are you taking?' Loki asks.

'Around two pints - that's alright, right?' Charlie says to the phone and I'm grateful that he's being nice to Loki, even if it's for my benefit.

'Just make her lie down afterwards, and give her a cookie.' Loki chuckles, 'Sounds like your timeline has moved up a little.'

'Is that going to be a problem?' Charlie asks as he focuses on holding the needle in place. I didn't realise until now that they'd been working closely together on this, but since Loki's the main cog in this little plan, it makes sense, 'It's going to be tomorrow morning, you can still stay away from all this, can't you?'

'I guess I'll just have to book myself a trip somewhere sunny.' Loki says and I can hear the grin in his voice, 'Our current client should be - let's just say - sorted by tonight, and I'll skip town right after.'

'Let's not say that.' Charlie snaps, 'I mean it, you need to-'

'I know what I need to do.' Loki interrupts him, 'Trust me, I'll be as far away as possible. I won't come anywhere near your precious princess.'

'If you're not there, who's likely to stand in?' I ask him, my head beginning to feel a little woozy, and trying not to say too much in front of Quigley, who I know isn't at all pleased with what we're planning, 'You know, take your place?'

'I'm not sure, it could be any number of guys. Ones I've trained, ones I haven't. They could flip everything on its head once they realise I'm gone.' Loki replies, 'Just make sure Charlie waits long enough for the Duc, or the King to arrive, but not too long that you're already six feet under.'

'I got it.' I nod, even though he can't see me, 'Hey Loki? What happened with Otis, did you do that for us?'

'You're welcome.' He says after a pause, and it's weird to hear the hint of sincerity in his voice. He stops short for a minute, 'The guy just had a baby.'

And with that, he hangs up, leaving us back in silence once more. I flash a look over to Quigley and thank him for calling even if it causes a stirring in my stomach as I grow more and more afraid. We watch quietly as the first bag fills up, and then Charlie carefully applies the tube to the second one, which fills up just as fast.

I watch it leave and wonder how much blood I can possibly lose this week without passing out unexpectedly at least once. When it's done, Charlie slides the needle back out of my arm and presses a little cotton swab to my sore skin. I hold my hand up to regain normal feeling, wiggling my hands to remove the tingling.

No one wants to discuss Loki's sudden change of heart, because it doesn't change anything for me. Even though we stay silent, I can't help but feel the little jump of hope that maybe after Charlie saves me, I can save Loki. I let the impossibility dance around my mind for a while.

I try not to think about Loki, and what his life is going to look like after this is all done. It seems Charlie and Loki made the same deal we did, whereby I would never feel pain at Loki's hand ever again, because Charlie has made sure he's nowhere near The Court when this all goes down. I don't want him to be collateral damage, but I think Charlie just worries about letting a known murderer free to hurt me however he likes.

Either way, I'm glad that no matter what happens, Loki will be halfway across the world, thinking up an excuse to come back if this all goes wrong. Either that, or he starts fresh, a new name, a new life. I wonder for a second, if after all this has happened, I might never see Loki again. I thank him, even though he can't hear me.

'That's the easy part done.' I smile weakly. Charlie flashes me a glare.

I clamp my mouth shut to try and ride out the wave of nausea that suddenly hits me, and I close my eyes to stop the stars from spinning. Quigley hands me a glass of water and I take small sips, feeling it sloshing around in my stomach, and the blood pulsating in my ears. I take some deep breaths and try to bring some feeling back into my body.

'Eat this.' Charlie says, offering me the cookie that Loki mentioned. I can only bring myself to nibble the sides, but after a few minutes of peace and quiet, my head stops most of its spinning and my hands don't feel as cold anymore. Quigley watches nervously and once I've stopped shaking, I smile up at him in reassurance.

I reach up and loop my hair into a bun so it's away from my neck and remove the jumper of Klaus' that I haven't taken off since this morning. I'm left in the little top and I remind myself to give some money to Esther, considering this one is about to be ruined with my blood. I'm hot all of a sudden, so the removal of clothing actually helps a little.

Charlie stands up and I adjust how I'm sitting on the chair so that I don't cover his chairs because I'm not paying for them too and I know how precious he is. He picks up the scalpel and I notice the violent jerks that his panic sends, so I turn around and give him a reassuring smile. When I see him, he's so pale that he's almost see-through.

'It's for Chris, Charlie.' I hold his hand, 'This is all for Chris.'

'I don't think he'd approve of me stabbing you.' He smiles weakly.

'Only if you didn't let me stab you back.' I grin and for a second, it soothes him.

He takes a deep breath, and nods. Quigley comes over and unpacks the little tracking chip for Charlie. He links it up to Charlie's laptop, sending us a quick nod to say we're all ready to go. Knowing what's about to happen, Quigley takes both of my hands in his and prepares himself for the pain I'm about to inflict on him, because of the pain Charlie's about to inflict on me.

After a second of waiting, a pain explodes at the back of my neck, centralised to a small incision, but bleeding around to my head and my shoulders and my back and causing a little spasm as my body unwillingly tries to jump away from him. I grip onto Quigley as Charlie picks up the chip with his gloved hands. They've turned from white to red and I pray that he's fast.

There's some pressure and I can feel my flesh tear apart as he pushes the chip in. Quigley passes over the butterfly strips with the hand I'm not squeezing and I feel Charlie overlap my skin to tape it back together. Once it's done, he stands back and I breathe a sigh of relief, the pain isn't gone, but at least it won't get any worse now.

I look back around at Charlie as he rips the gloves from his hands and charges up the stairs to his bathroom. Even from one floor down, I can hear him heave up any food he's put near his body for the last two days. Quigley grabs some cotton and wipes away the blood from my back and applies a plaster to the cut. It's only small, but it still takes a few minutes to stop pulsing from the pain. I pull Klaus' jumper back on to warm my outsides up, the tequila still working its heat from in my stomach.

'All done kiddo.' He says, kissing the top of my head and walking me over to Charlie's sofa to sit myself down. He throws away the remains of our surgery because he knows I don't want Asher to see, and then comes to give me a cuddle on the couch. He wraps an arm around me, careful to put his arm in between the stitches in my back and the fresh one in my neck.

I close my eyes because my head has started spinning once more, and there's a dull ache that I know won't stay dull for long. I rub at the pressure in my temples and nestle a little further into my best friend to stop what feels like cold sweat all over my body.

'How are you feeling?' He asks gently.

'My neck's fine, it'll stop hurting soon enough.' I shrug.

'And how's your heart? Your pulse is going mad, and I can't help but wonder if it's not because of sudden mass blood loss?' He smiles softly, prodding my side. I look up at him, and tears fill my eyes before I can stop them, 'Hey, it's okay. Listen, there's no point crying over spilt blood.'

'You're not funny.' I sniff a smile into his chest before the fear sets in again, 'Asher's never going to forgive me.'

'He will, it might take time, but he will.' He reassures me, 'He's just trying to come to terms with everything. In one afternoon, he's found out that he has a brother, and that his mother is alive, and she's the one trying to hurt you and-'

'And I killed his grandfather.' I finish.

'You protected your brother in the only way you could at the time.' Quigley says, 'You've taken care of everyone around you for so long now, and Asher knows that. It just might take some time for him to find his way back to it.'

'I don't have time.' I say, knowing how right I might possibly be, 'Charlie's plan is the only plan we have, but it's not a good one Quigley. I might not-'

'You listen to me right now.' He says angrily, pushing me back to face him straight on, 'You're coming home from this. You're going to plan my sister's stupid wedding, and you're going to bring Charlie home, and you're going to end this. You are walking away from this.'

'Okay.' I tell him, refusing to make him a promise I don't know if I'll be able to keep, 'I'll try my best.'

'I know you will.' He smiles, 'If there's one person in this whole wide world that can do this, it's you Marzia.'

I go to tell him that I'm not so sure, but Charlie's front door opens and Klaus walks back in with Esther. I crane my neck to try and see Asher, but he doesn't follow them and my heart drops. I stand up quickly, Quigley standing close just in case I need some support. Standing has gotten easier since yesterday, but it's not back to normal yet.

'Where is he?' I ask quickly.

'He's a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.' Klaus growls, tossing his scarf onto the peg beside the door, 'He's just outside. We convinced him to come back, but he still wants some time by himself.'

I nod, putting a hand to my head to calm myself down, at least he's back.

'You look terrible, what happened?' Klaus asks.

'You're charming.' I roll my eyes, 'Did you forget that I killed a member of his family?'

'Oh yes - that.' He grins, 'Is this a recurring thing, should I warn my grandfather?'

I shove his arm, and a wave of tiredness and nausea hits me. I don't want to give away Charlie's plan, so I excuse myself upstairs to get some rest. I don't tell them I need the sleep because I plan to be gone by dawn, because they don't need to know. I don't trust Klaus, and there's no way I can tell Asher. Esther, well, she'll find out in the morning I suppose.

I lay myself on top of the covers, curling my knees up into my chest to try and comfort myself. I think about asking Zoë to come lay down with me again, but I need the silence to try and figure out my thoughts.

I've never told anyone about what happened in that warehouse. It would be self defence, there's no doubt. I can't think of a single person in Alania who would try to blame me for it. But I blame me for it. I blame myself for making that decision. I thought I was saving my brother, but I didn't. There have been a hundred nights where I've wondered if Dimitrius Van Doren had been driving, if he might not have crashed.

If I hadn't killed that man, maybe he could have saved my brother. Maybe I could've saved Asher from feeling like this.

I didn't tell anyone, because I was scared. I was scared of what my father would say, or how my mother would look at me. I was scared that every person in my life would do what Asher did this afternoon, and leave.

I hear a noise from behind me and turn over to see the door open ajar.

'Klaus please.' I say quietly, not ready for more teasing, 'I'm tired.'

'It's me.' I flip over to see Asher standing against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a face that's more tired than I ever seen it. I stand up, but keep my distance from him. He tries to smile, 'You probably don't want to get the two of us mixed up.'

I try to find something to say, but I can't think of anything to fix what I've done, 'Are you okay?'

'No.' He replies simply, shrugging his shoulders. His face is unusually red, and as much as I'd like to pretend it's because of the cold, I know he must have been crying. The colour brings out the freckles in his cheeks and his glasses are smudged at the bottom where he's angrily rubbed them dry.

'Where did you go?' I ask.

'The train station.' I blink a little, thankful that Klaus and Esther caught him before he left altogether, 'The one we stopped at on our way to Sweden.'

'You did?' I ask, twirling my fingers together nervously, 'Why?'

'I needed some space.' He says and I swallow, knowing he means from me, 'I just sat on a bench and watched the families.'

'What were you looking for?'

'I don't know.' He shrugs.

'Find anything anyway?' I try to lighten the mood a little, but I can't make him smile anymore.

'No, I can't look at people the way you do.' He tells me, almost sadly, 'I couldn't see anyone in love.'

'Maybe it was a lonely day.' I suggest.

'Maybe you've just got an eye for it.' He muses. Then he looks at me, and there's still traces of tears in his waterline, 'I was looking at the parents. I kept wondering which ones wanted to leave their children on the platform.'

I smile a little at this, 'Did anyone?'

'No they didn't.' And Asher manages a little half-laugh, 'I couldn't see a single mum there who didn't worry when her kid was out of sight, or warn them about playing too close to the tracks. I couldn't see a single mum there like mine.'

'Ash-' I start.

'There wasn't a single person on that platform like her.' He says, and I realise the tears aren't left over, they're new and they're close to spilling over onto his cheeks, 'Or like me.'

'I'm not sure there's anyone quite like you Ash.' I admit, 'On any platform.'

'That sounds like an unusually nice thing to say, especially for you.' He says, with a hint to his voice that I recognise, and I can't help the hope in my heart that I might not have lost him completely, 'Don't tell me this is your way of playing nice.'

'If there's ever a time to play nice, it's probably right now.' I shrug, biting my lip because I know I'm the cause of every ache in his chest, every tear in his eye, and every flash of anger he must feel at me. I caused every bit of his pain that I wish I could take away.

'Well it's freaking me out.' He says, 'Knock it off.'

I blink a little, looking down at the floor, 'I don't know what else to do.'

He reaches out and puts his thumb just under my chin and gently lifts my face to look at him. I try to hold onto the feeling, in case this never happens again, but the skin tingles nervously where he touches me and I can't focus on it properly.

'Hey.' He says, lifting the corners of his mouth in his attempt at a smile, 'It's still me.'

'Is it still us?' I ask even though I'm scared to hear his answer.

'I don't know.' He admits, and I nod a little, desperately trying to make sure I don't cry, 'I don't know what we were yesterday.'

I laugh a little, 'I don't think we were this fucked up yesterday.'

'I don't know.' Asher joins the smile, 'I'm not sure which is worse, your fiance, or my dead grandfather.'

Hearing him say it out loud sends a shooting flash of guilt speeding across my chest. I lean back a little so his hand is left suspended in the air, 'You don't mean that.'

'Don't I?' He asks quietly.

'I killed your grandfather, Ash.' I say, looking up at him and clenching my jaw to hide the emotion there.

'No you didn't.' He says, but I frown at him and shake my head slightly, 'You killed a man I've never known, who had spent a week lighting you up with jumper cables and, the razor? That was him too?'

'Yeah, that was him.' I admit, looking away from his face, 'But Asher, he's your family.'

'Is he?' Asher asks again.

'Charlie's got a family-fucking-tree downstairs to prove it to you if you need.' I say, throwing my arms out and finally letting a tear fall.

'I have a family.' Asher says, stepping closer to me and reaching a hand up to wipe my cheek, 'I have an aunt that didn't even know I existed, who took over my father's job so my family didn't lose their school, and took over their kid without a second glance.'

'I know, but-'

'I have three of the greatest friends, who've been there for me, through everything.' He carries on as if he can't even hear me talking, 'I mean, even if Phineas does call me chubby.'

I can't bring myself to laugh, 'Asher you're not-'

'I have you.' He says, catching my eyes so that I'm looking at him. He tucks a stray piece of hair away from my face and tilts his head affectionately, 'Maybe not for very long, if I remember rightly, there's a dickhead downstairs who has the royal equivalent of dibs, but right now I have you.'

'But you told me, in your room, that you miss them.' I push, because I can't bring myself to accept the kindness he's offering me, because I don't deserve it, 'You miss your mum.'

'I remember what I said to you Marzia.' He tells me, 'But maybe it's because I didn't know any better. This whole time, I thought I was missing out on this great thing, but maybe missing out on a family was the best thing that could have happened to me.'

I shake my head, 'You don't have to say that to make me feel better.'

'I'm not just saying it.' He pushes, cupping my face with both of his hands so I cannot escape the way he's looking at me, with no hate whatsoever, 'Look at my brother, look at this kid I've never known. Do you think he grew up like I did?'

'Alone?'

'Loved.' He says, and the tears in his eyes are back again, 'Maybe the best thing my mother ever did for me was leave me with her sister. It's the only shot I was ever going to have, the only chance to grow up knowing that someone loved me.'

'Just because everything worked out in the end, doesn't mean that I didn't hurt him, Asher.' I remind him, 'It doesn't mean that I didn't kill your grandfather.'

'My grandfather had a gun to your brother's head.' He replies angrily, frowning at the very idea, 'Marzia, that man hurt you. I can't call him my family. And that woman who hurt you too? She's not my family either. I have my family, and they're not it.'

'But they never can be, because I took that away from you.' I say, knowing that if I don't convince him right now, that in a few weeks time, he'll arrive here himself and hate me even more.

'I could've walked away this afternoon Zia.' He pauses and I close my eyes.

'I wouldn't have blamed you.' I say quietly.

'You're not listening to me.' He argues, 'I didn't walk away, because look at everything I would've had to leave behind.'

'Your job?'

'Not my job, Marzia, you.' He says, shaking me a little by accident as he pulls me closer to him, 'This whole crazy week, this whole six years of my life with you.'

'Actually, I think if you added up all the time we've spent together before this week, it probably just comes to like an hour and a half.' I sniff, 'We didn't get much time in between classes.'

'No, we didn't, did we?' He smiles with nostalgia at our little selves who could never have expected any of this, 'Do you remember your detention in the bathrooms, right before I found out who you were?'

I roll my eyes and smile, 'I remember.'

'Did you ever think to ask yourself why we were there in the first place? Me, and the boys?' He pushes, but I still can't catch up to whatever he's trying to tell me.

'So Cade could be a dick?' I guess and Asher smiles, and shakes his head.

'No.' He says a little quieter, 'It's because I asked them to stick around with me after school. I knew you had detention and I wanted to see you.'

'In between classes wasn't enough?' I tease him.

'It was never enough.' He says sincerely.

'Well, they always say be careful what you wish for.' I tell him but he ignores me. The feeling in my stomach hasn't shifted and the guilt comes rushing back as soon as the room falls quiet again. I step away from him, further this time and take a deep breath, 'I appreciate what you're trying to do here Ash, but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change who we are now, who generations of our families are forcing us to be.'

'You think I'm going to join them?' He squints.

'They're your family Asher.' I say, holding my breath in hopes that the pain starts to hurt less.

'You think I could do that to someone?' He asks, his voice raising in volume and I notice the way his hands ball up by his sides, 'Take a four year old from her school, kill her brother and torture her so badly that she can't seem to sleep right, even six years later? That's what you think of me?'

'No, it's not, but how are you meant to stay here now?' I throw my arms out, 'How are you supposed to watch my brother sit at his kitchen table and try to figure out a way to lock your family up for good? Take away every one of them I haven't murdered yet.'

'I won't need to watch, because I'll be helping him.' Asher says and I'm aware that we're arguing loudly enough that I'm sure everyone can hear us, but I can't think of another way to try and make him see.

'No you won't.' I say firmly, 'I won't let you.'

'Won't let me?' He says harshly, 'It's my job.'

'It was a job you signed up to do when you were a kid.' I counter, 'You didn't sign up to go against your brother, your mum Asher.'

'What are you going to do?' He says almost childishly. He's laughing a little bit, but there's no humour anymore, 'Fire me?'

'If that's what it takes to keep you away from this, then yeah I will.' I nod, because I can't think of another way to keep him safe.

'They hurt you Marzia.' He says suddenly and I fall silent. His voice cracks and he wipes angily at the tears streaming down his cheeks, 'The fact that you think I could love them, even look at them after that, shows that maybe you don't know me at all.'

'Maybe I don't.' I shrug in defeat and walk over to the door, 'But when you forgive me for this, hopefully I'll get the chance to learn.'

'Don't do this.' Asher begs and I another tear falls as I cover my face and keep my back to him.

'What am I supposed to do?' I ask desperately, 'You'll never forgive me otherwise.'

'You don't need forgiving.'

'Yes I do.' I nod. Asher comes up to me, grabbing my hands to move them away from my face.

'You didn't deserve any of this.' He says, putting his hands on my shoulders but I don't lean into him. I shake my head, because he's wrong. I deserved every little bit of this pain the second that I pushed Asher's grandfather.

'Maybe I didn't when I was six, but I do now.' I say, looking down at our feet. I grip onto his jumper and sniff, 'Please Asher, please don't come anywhere near this. I can't ask you to do this for me.'

'You don't have to ask.' Asher says, moving his hands to my waist so that he can see me better. We're not shouting anymore, but every other emotion in our little bubble is just as intense, 'You win everytime Zia. Every bet, every argument, against everyone else. You're always going to win with me.'

'Please.' I whisper, lifting a hand up to his face and wishing with everything that I have that he'll listen to me.

'You know I can't do that.' He admits, refusing to promise something he's not going to keep. I bite my lip in disappointment, 'If anything happened to you I-'

'Hey, nothing going to happen to me.' I sigh, reaching my arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. His hands grip at my waist so we're impossibly close and I relish in the feeling of him being here with me while I still can, 'I can take care of myself.'

'You can't even tie your shoelaces.' He chuckles, then leans away, looking down sadly as if catching himself feeling happy right now is wrong to him. He leans out a hand and runs a piece of hair behind my ear, 'Don't even think about not coming back.'

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. I reach up, running my hand along Asher's cheek and press a soft and gentle kiss on his lips. It's different to our last, it's filled with so much more than lust. My chest feels light and for a second, nothing else matters. His hand tightens on my waist and he pulls our bodies up against each other.

His hands push back my hair, his careful consideration from our last kiss is abandoned, there's not a single part of him that holds back. He kisses me as if it can erase everything bad, if we just try hard enough. We're not under the illusion that it'll work when the sun rises on us, but for tonight, nothing can touch us here.

I tighten my hands in the curls of his hair in a way that still doesn't feel like enough of him, and his arms wrap around me to bring our bodies inconceivably intertwined together. This kiss isn't filled with our heartache, or our memories. It isn't between a princess and a bodyguard, or between two warring students.

It's between two people who couldn't care less what the consequences of this will be, because of how much they'd be willing to risk for just a second of indulging in this feeling.

I know that I should never have kissed him back in my bedroom, because there will never be a single second again where I won't want to. I let myself get carried away, and I'm too far downstream to fool myself with the hope that we'll make it back up the current unscathed.

This is going to hurt, but not right now.

He cups my face, kissing me impossibly softer, and I smile into him. We can practically feel the bad decision vibrating around us, but there's a shared feeling of complete disregard. Asher has never broken a rule in his life, and here we are, our arms wrapped around each other, in this moment of complete suspension, breaking one of the biggest.

Rules are meant to be broken, and I can't think of a single one that deserved to be broken this badly.

One hand reaches up and moves to my neck. I don't want to lean away from him, but I can't risk having him finding out what Charlie did this afternoon. I gamble a few more seconds of being close to him before I know I'm caught if I don't move.

Standing with him, holding me, being this close, everything feels right. It feels like, no matter who sits downstairs, what waits for me when I go home, everything I'm going to have to do tomorrow, that nothing feels wrong about standing here with him. This morning, I thought sleeping with him was the worst thing I could've done.

Standing here now, I realise I was wrong. Falling in love with him is the worst thing I could do. But I'll be damned if I'm not going to do it anyway.

'Leave the light on for me.'