"Please - don't go!" Antonia pleaded with her husband. "They'll kill you!" Richard's expression was resigned as he straightened his tie in the mirror. He was making a valiant effort to appear dignified.

"Hiding away won't solve anything."

"But if you die - think what will happen to me and the children." She was clinging grimly onto a tearful Dalton – the last weapon she had to use against her husband.

He sighed, "You'll probably be better off." He turned and looked sadly at his children. "I've failed you all." He pulled on his jacket.

"No," Briana spoke up. "You haven't." Moving forward she kissed his cheek. "Never think that." She could see his guilt about Nathaniel in every line of his noble face. Antonia looked betrayed.

"Emily, stop him!" Briana ignored her.

"Go and show them that you're not their enemy." The Princeps patted her head before leaving them. Antonia's wailing drowned out the sound of his footsteps. Briana stared at the closed door. The Princeps was headed for the Probitatis (home of the True Hearts) . Abel would be there – he could make the others listen if Richard could just convince him.

Time seemed to move very slowly whilst the Princeps was gone. Briana sat on the stairs – unable to handle Antonia's anxious pacing. She heard the floorboards creak behind her and didn't need to turn to know it was Troy. "It's so quiet." Most of the staff had left them. He didn't reply but took up residence against the wall. Briana rested her chin against her knee. She needed to be doing something. Just waiting for the revolution to happen was maddening. She needed to be proactive. Her stomach coiled unpleasantly. That must have been how Emily felt – when she started dating Andy for his parents' money. It was her taking action to protect the family.

"What's it like out there?" She turned to look up at Troy. "I don't think I looked properly." All the homeless, tear gas, the fear on the streets, the children playing in garbage... "They're suffering aren't they? I knew that but I – I didn't think..."

"Emily?" She reached out suddenly clutching onto his trouser leg.

"I need your help – I need your help to help them." Troy stared down at her, his mask slipping and the expression beneath filled with uncertainty. "I want to help the people."

Dalton found Briana in one of the guest rooms. He stood in the doorway, kicking against the frame.

"Is dad going to die?" He asked, his voice wobbling.

"Not today." Briana replied with certainty. The child breathed a little easier.

"What are you doing, Emily?"

"It gets cold at night - the homeless need blankets. And those in the slums, could use these sheets to make outfits for their children." She was stripping the bedding and building a mountain in the hallway – her jaw set angrily. "Do you know how many bedrooms this place has?" Dalton shook his head. "Two hundred and forty."

***

"Troy?" Antonia asked curiously. She'd gone in search of wine - since nobody answered the summoning bell. She'd encountered no one else on her way to the cellar – save for Troy. "What are you doing?" 

He inclined his head respectfully to the Princeps' wife.

"Emily asked me to find boxes." He gestured to the crates behind him. "She wants to give her old toys to the children in the slums."

"Oh."

Antonia selected a wine bottle. It was covered in a fine layer of dust.

"She's a good girl." It was the first time Troy had spoken to her - aside from answering direct questions.  Antonia grimaced.

"I can't help thinking of them as the enemy. I hate them all." She gripped the wine more tightly. "But she still sees them as her people." She selected another wine bottle at random. "She'll make a good Princeps one day." She made to leave but turned back to look at her daughter's bodyguard. "We have to make sure she gets there." He nodded.

***

The sky darkened as the sun slipped beneath the horizon.

"He's still not back yet." Dalton leant against Briana. She'd been tiring him out all day - giving him errand after errand so he'd be too busy to worry – and to keep him from his mother's melancholy. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand – his lower lip pouting despondently.

"That could be a good thing." She ruffled her fingers through his hair. "It means they're talking." And hopefully, listening.

Briana and Dalton had fallen asleep on the sofa - when the quiet of the house was finally disturbed. Troy shook Briana gently awake. She looked up at him with bleary eyes and he put a finger to his lips to stop her from waking Dalton. Together they freed Briana by carefully moving Dalton so his head rested on a pillow rather than her side. Once out of the room, Briana quickened her pace, skidding on the landing as she turned to rush down the stairs.

The Princeps was standing in the hall – alive and mercifully uninjured – hugging his wife. Briana froze on the last step, taking in his appearance. Someone had tied red and black sashes around his forearm. The colours of the revolution – the colours that the nation's flag would one day transform into. "How did it go?" Briana asked when the Princeps looked up at her.

"Long," he looked shattered, "and I'm not sure how much good it did." But they'd let him return to Eros house. Briana refused to let his defeated expression extinguish her hope.

Grey clouds above grey buildings for grey souls. Elias watched from across the road. His piercing gaze followed Briana's movements as she handed out mugs of soup, smiling brightly. Troy stood at her elbow – alert and stern. When she'd gotten through the queue, Elias made his way over.

"Soup?" She asked. He smiled and shook his head. "How have you been?" They hadn't seen each other since the funeral.

"I'm well. How are you?" She shrugged.

"Fine."

"This idea," he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He'd had a thousand thoughts since he'd heard what she'd been doing – everyday going to the poor neighbourhoods with food and blankets. "I don't like the risk."

"I'll be fine."

"These are dangerous times-"

"I understand that." She'd interrupted him. He read the resolution in her gaze. He knew she had the Princeps' support and even her mother had failed to talk her round.

"Some of your father's critics are encouraging violence in the streets." The rise in food prices was escalating the situation. "These radicals won't show restraint just because you're a child-"

"I'm needed here, Elias," she interrupted him again. Elias' eyebrows rose in evident surprise. "I can do some good. It's that simple. I won't be frightened off from doing what's right." Elias looked down at her thoughtfully. He removed a pamphlet from his coat pocket and put it down on the table in front of her. "What's this?" She picked it up and stiffened.

It was an article written by Hehavaen - Abel's pen name. She glanced up at Elias. Did he know that? The article was about Antonia – accusing her of raising food prices in an attempt to starve the population into submission.

"He's extremely popular with the masses." Oh, he knew alright. "These days, his anger seems to have a relentless energy." Briana knew what he was really saying – the question he was asking her.

"A broken heart can do that." She replied. Yes, Elias – I've ended things between him and me. "Perhaps," she added for a clueless Troy's benefit.

"Broken hearts heal – some quicker than others."

"I've heard keeping busy helps." Working hard all day so that when night fell - she could have dreamless sleep. It was those moments, alone in her bed, she feared the most... When Abel crawled into her thoughts and the ache he left behind swallowed her heart.

"And a cure – to spare those hearts from becoming sad and bitter?" She'd been thinking about her own heart when she'd said these things to Elias – predicting her future should her and Abel part. Was Abel's suffering akin to her own? Was she the reason for his anger?

"I'm not sure. What do you think?" He tilted his head to the side as he considered her question. "Vengeance?" A shiver ran up her spine. She watched Elias leave, disappearing behind his car's tinted windows.

"What was that about?" Troy asked. She shrugged but as she continued to ladle out soup, she struggled to keep her thoughts from drifting. She suspected Elias had been in love, sometimes he had the air of a troubled past – a past not to be talked about. Was he out for revenge for his lover? Or had he meant Abel when he'd said that?

***

"The True Hearts have put together a declaration." Felix Jane put the document on the Princeps' desk in front of him. "They desire your signature." His lip twitched, his face contorting with the effort of suppressing his feelings and keeping silent. The Princeps sighed.

"Very good." He put on his reading glasses and picked up the document. He paused, realising that Felix was still standing in place. "Yes?" Flustered Felix exited, making a business about closing the door.

The Princeps looked down once more at the True Heart's work. He'd been expecting it. Farshadow had hinted that he and his colleagues were working on something ground breaking. The document was titled a Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. Judging from the page of signatures at the back – every member had signed it. He read through and with every passing sentence his pulse quickened.

They were demanding freedom of speech and freedom of the press – an attack against his censorship. But when they'd written obscenities about his wife what had they expected him to do? They demanded freedom from unlawful imprisonment. But when public outcry supported people who had killed his son – did they think he could bare risking those men going on trial and being set free? His heart demanded that they remain languishing in a cell for murdering Nathanial. They declared that every citizen has a right to decide what taxes should be imposed. Did they truly think the taxes were due to his greed? If he signed a document like this – would his ancestors ever forgive him? Or his descendants ever recover all he'd lost?

Felix returned to his study a couple of hours later, with tea.

"Will you be sending anything over to Probitatis, sir?" Anticipating the need for a courier.

"No, Jane." Felix hesitated but didn't comment. "If any of their people phone," he paused.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell them I'm unwell."