The Selection Stories Collection (92 page)

Then her anger faded to sadness, and she turned toward me, burrowing her head into my chest, like if she tried hard enough she could hide under my ribs. I wanted to keep her in my arms, so close to my heart that she could practically be a part of it, and bat away all the pain that might come her way.

“Listen, Mer,” I started, knowing the only way to get to the good would be to walk through the bad. “The thing about Maxon is that he’s an actor. He’s always putting on this perfect face, like he’s so above everything. But he’s just a person, and he’s as messed up as anyone is. I know you cared about him or you wouldn’t have stayed here. But you have to know now that it’s not real.”

She nodded, and I felt like this wasn’t entirely new information to her, like a part of her always expected this.

“It’s better you know now. What if you got married and then found out it was like this?”

“I know,” she breathed. “I’ve been thinking about that myself.”

I tried not to focus on the fact that she’d already wondered about a life married to Maxon. It was part of the experience. Sooner or later, she was bound to think about it. But that had passed.

“You’ve got a big heart, Mer. I know you can’t just get over things, but it’s okay to
want
to. That’s all.”

She was quiet, thinking over my words. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I disagreed.

“I am, too.”

I needed to make her smile. “Mer, do you think I’m smart?”

Her tone was light. “Of course.”

“That’s because I am. And I’m way too smart to be in love with a stupid girl. So you can drop that right now.”

She gave a laugh like a whisper but it was enough to pierce through the sadness. I’d had my own aches because of the Selection, and I needed to try to understand hers better. She didn’t ask to put her name in the lottery. I did. This was my fault.

A dozen times, I’d wanted to explain myself, to beg for the mercy that she’d already given. I didn’t deserve it. Maybe now. Maybe this was the time that I could finally, really apologize.

“I feel like I’ve hurt you so much,” she said, shame covering her voice. “I don’t understand how you can still possibly be in love with me.”

I sighed. She acted like she needed forgiveness, when it was certainly the other way around.

I didn’t know how to explain this to her. There weren’t words wide enough to hold what I felt for her. Not even I could make sense of it.

“It’s just the way it is. The sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Aspen endlessly loves America. It’s how the world was designed to be.” I felt the lift of her cheek against my chest as she smiled. If I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, maybe I could at least make it clear that those last minutes in the tree house were a fluke. “Seriously, Mer, you’re the only girl I ever wanted. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. I’ve been trying to prepare myself for that, just in case, and . . . I can’t.”

When the words failed, our bodies spoke. No kisses, nothing more than hushed embraces, but it was all we needed. I felt everything I had felt back in Carolina, and I was sure that we could be that again. Maybe be even more.

“We shouldn’t stay much longer,” I said, wishing it wasn’t true. “I’m pretty confident in my abilities, but I don’t want to push it.”

She reluctantly stood, and I pulled her in for one last embrace, hoping it would be enough to sustain me until I could see her again. She held on tightly, like she was afraid to let me go. I knew the coming days would be hard for her, but whatever happened, I’d be here.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m really sorry Maxon turned out to be such a bad guy. I wanted you back, but I didn’t want you to get hurt. Especially not like that.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” She hesitated. “It’s not over though. Not if I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but I know you. You’ll ride it out so your family gets money and you can see me, but he’d have to reverse time to fix this.” I settled my chin on her head, keeping her as close to me for as long as I could. “Don’t worry, Mer. I’ll take care of you.”

I
HAD A VAGUE SENSE
that I was dreaming. America was across the room, tied to a throne, and Maxon had one hand on her shoulder, trying to push her into submission. Her worried eyes were locked on mine, and she struggled to get to me. But then I saw Maxon was watching me, too. His stare was menacing, and he looked so much like his father in that moment.

I knew I needed to get to her, to untie her so we could run. But I couldn’t move. I was tied up, too, on the rack like Woodwork. Fear ran down my skin, cold and demanding. No matter how we tried we would never be able to save each other.

Maxon walked over to a pillow, picked up an elaborate crown, and brought it back to place on America’s head. Though she eyed it warily, she didn’t fight when he set it on her gleaming red hair. But it wouldn’t stay put. It slipped over and over.

Undeterred, Maxon reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a two-pronged hook. He lined up the crown and pushed the hook in, affixing it to America’s head. As the pin went in, I felt two massive stabs in my back and screamed from the burn of it. I waited to feel the blood, too, but it didn’t come.

Instead, I watched as the blood spilled from the pins in America’s head, mixing with the red of her hair and sticking to her skin. Maxon smiled as he shoved in pin after pin, and I yelled in pain every time one pierced America’s skin, watching, horrified, as the blood from the crown drowned her.

I snapped awake. I hadn’t had a nightmare like that in months, and never one about America. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, reminding myself that it wasn’t real. Still, the pain from the hooks echoed on my skin, and I felt dizzy.

Instantly, my mind went to Woodwork and Marlee. In my dream, I would happily have taken all the pain if it meant America didn’t have to suffer. Had Woodwork felt the same way? Had he wished he could have taken twice the punishment to spare Marlee?

“You all right, Leger?” Avery asked. The room was still dark, so he must have heard me tossing.

“Yeah. Sorry. Bad dream.”

“It’s cool. Not sleeping that great myself.”

I rolled to face him even though I couldn’t see a thing. Only senior officers had rooms with windows.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Would it be okay if I thought out loud for a minute?”

“Sure.” Avery had been a great friend. The least I could do was spare him a few minutes of my sleep.

I heard him sit up, deliberating before he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about Woodwork and Marlee. And about Lady America.”

“What about her?” I asked, sitting up myself.

“At first when I saw Lady America run for Marlee, I was pissed. Because shouldn’t she know better? Woodwork and Marlee made a mistake, and they had to be punished. The king and Prince Maxon have to keep control, right?”

“Okay.”

“But when the maids and butlers were talking about it, they were kind of praising Lady America. It didn’t make sense to me because I thought what she did was wrong. But, well, they’ve been here a lot longer than we have. Maybe they’ve seen a lot more. Maybe they know something.

“And if they do, and they think Lady America was right to do what she did . . . then what am I missing?”

We were treading dangerous ground here. But he was my friend, the best I’d ever had. I trusted Avery with my life, and the palace was one place where I could really use an ally.

“That’s a really good question. Makes you wonder.”

“Exactly. Like sometimes when I’m on guard in the king’s office, the prince will be working and then leave to do something. King Clarkson will pick up Prince Maxon’s work and undo half of it. Why? Couldn’t he at least talk to him about it? I thought he was training him.”

“I don’t know. Control?” As I said the word, I realized that had to be at least partially true. Sometimes I suspected Maxon didn’t completely know what was going on. “Maybe Maxon isn’t as competent as the king thinks he should be by now.”

“What if the prince is
more
competent and the king doesn’t like it?”

I held back the laugh. “Hard to believe. Maxon seems easily distracted.”

“Hmm.” Avery shifted in the dark. “Maybe you’re right. It just seems like people feel differently about him than the king. And they talk about Lady America like if they could pick the princess, it would be her. If she’s the type to disobey like that, does it mean that Prince Maxon would, too?”

His questions hit on things I didn’t want to acknowledge. Could Maxon in fact be pushing against his father? And if that was the case, was he also pushing against the crown and all it stood for? I’d never been a fan of the monarchy; I didn’t think I could seriously hate anyone who fought it.

But my love for America was bigger than everything else, and because Maxon stood between me and that love, I didn’t think there was anything he could say or do that would make me consider him a decent person.

“I really don’t know,” I answered honestly. “He didn’t stop what happened to Woodwork.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he liked it.” Avery yawned. “I’m just saying, we’ve been trained to watch every person who comes into the palace and to look for any hidden intentions. Maybe we should do the same with the people who are already here.”

I smiled. “You might be on to something there,” I admitted.

“Of course. I’m the brains of this whole operation.” He rustled with his blankets, settling again.

“Go to sleep, brainiac. We’ll need your smarts tomorrow,” I teased.

“On it.” He was still for maybe a whole minute before he piped up again. “Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. What are friends for?”

“Yeah.” He yawned again. “I miss Woodwork.”

I sighed. “I know. I miss him, too.”

I
DIDN’T MIND THE INJECTIONS
so much, but they stung like hell for about an hour afterward. What was worse, they gave you this strange pulsing energy that lasted for most of the day. It wasn’t uncommon to find a handful of guards running laps for hours or picking up some of the more laborious chores around the palace just to help burn it off. Doctor Ashlar made a point to limit the number of guards receiving them on any given day.

“Officer Leger,” Doctor Ashlar called, and I went into the office and stood by the small examining table near his desk. The hospital wing was large enough to accommodate us, but this felt better done in private.

He nodded to acknowledge me, and I turned and pulled the waist of my pants down a few inches. I refused to allow myself to jump, not when the cold antiseptic swiped across my skin or when the needle pierced it.

“All done,” he said cheerfully. “See Tom for your vitamins and compensation.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Every step throbbed, but I didn’t let it show.

Tom gave me some pills and water, and after I downed them, I initialed his little paper and took my money, dropping it in my room before I headed out to the woodpile. Already, the urge to move was overwhelming.

Each swing of the ax brought a desperately needed release. I felt hypercharged today, fueled by the injections, Avery’s questions, and that sinister dream.

I thought about the king saying that America was a throw-away. It seemed unlikely that America would win now when she was so upset with Maxon, but I wondered what would happen if the one person the king never intended to get the crown did?

And if Marlee had been a favorite, maybe even the king’s personal pick to win, who was he pinning his hopes on now?

I tried to concentrate, but my thoughts blurred together under the insatiable drive to move. I swung and swung, and only stopped two hours later because there was nothing left to chop.

“There’s a whole forest back there if you need some more.”

I turned, and that old stable keeper was there, smiling.

“I think I might actually be done,” I answered. As I got ahold of my breathing, I was sure the worst of the injection’s effects had passed.

He walked closer. “You look better. Calmer.”

I laughed, feeling the medicine evening out in my bloodstream. “It was a different energy I needed to burn off today.”

He sat on the chopping block, looking completely at home. I had no idea what to make of this guy.

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants, trying to think of what to say. “Hey, I’m sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to give you a hard time, I—”

He held up his hands. “It’s no problem. And I didn’t mean to be pushy. But I’ve seen a lot of people let the bad around them make them hard or stubborn. In the end, they miss the chance to make their world better because they only see the worst in it.”

There was still something about the tone of his voice and his features that made me feel like I knew him.

“I know what you mean.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to be like that. But I get so angry. Sometimes I feel like I know too much, or that I’ve done things I can’t make right, and it just hovers over me. And when I see things happen that shouldn’t . . .”

“You don’t know what to do with yourself.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded. “Well, I’d start by thinking about what’s good. Then I’d ask myself how I could make that good even better.”

I laughed. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He stood. “You just think about it a bit.”

As I walked back to the palace, I tried to figure out where I might know him from. Maybe he’d passed through Carolina before he worked for the palace. Plenty of Sixes drifted. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d seen, he hadn’t let it bring him down. I should have asked for his name, but we seemed to be running into each other a lot, so I figured we’d meet again soon. When I wasn’t in an awful mood, he was actually a pretty decent guy.

After cleaning up, I made my way to my room, still thinking about the stable keeper’s words. What was good? How could I make it better?

I picked up the envelope with my money in it. I didn’t need to use a cent of it at the palace, so all of it went to my family. Usually.