I also miss your smell. I miss your perfume drifting off your hair when you turn to laugh at me or your scent radiating on your skin when we walk through the garden. It’s intoxicating.
So I went to your room to spray your perfume on my handkerchief, another silly trick to make me feel like you were here. And as I was leaving your room, Mary caught me. I’m not sure what she was looking after since you’re not here; but she saw me, shrieked, and a guard came running in to see what was wrong. He had his staff gripped, and his eyes flashed threateningly. I was nearly attacked. All because I missed your smell.
December 27, 11:00 p.m.
My Dear America,
I’ve never written a love letter, so forgive me if I fail now. . . .
The simple thing would be to say that I love you. But, in truth, it’s so much more than that. I want you, America. I need you.
I’ve held back so much from you out of fear. I’m afraid that if I show you everything at once, it will overwhelm you, and you’ll run away. I’m afraid that somewhere in the back of your heart is a love for someone else that will never die. I’m afraid that I will make a mistake again, something so huge that you retreat into that silent world of yours. No scolding from a tutor, no lashing from my father, no isolation in my youth has ever hurt me so much as you separating yourself from me.
I keep thinking that it’s there, waiting to come back and strike me. So I’ve held on to all my options, fearing that the moment I wipe them away, you will be standing there with your arms closed, happy to be my friend but unable to be my equal, my queen, my wife.
And for you to be my wife is all I want in the world. I love you. I was afraid to admit it for a long time, but I know it now.
I would never rejoice in the loss of your father, the sadness you’ve felt since he passed, or the emptiness I’ve experienced since you left. But I’m so grateful that you had to go. I’m not sure how long it would have taken for me to figure this out if I hadn’t had to start trying to imagine a life without you. I know now, with absolute certainty, that is nothing I want.
I wish I was as true an artist as you so that I could find a way to tell you what you’ve become to me. America, my love, you are sunlight falling through trees. You are laughter that breaks through sadness. You are the breeze on a too-warm day. You are clarity in the midst of confusion.
You are not the world, but you are everything that makes the world good. Without you, my life would still exist, but that’s all it would manage to do.
You said that to get things right one of us would have to take a leap of faith. I think I’ve discovered the canyon that must be leaped, and I hope to find you waiting for me on the other side.
I love you, America.
Yours forever,
Maxon
CHAPTER 30
THE GREAT ROOM WAS PACKED. For once, instead of the king and queen being the focal point of the room, it was Maxon. On a slightly raised platform, Maxon, Kriss, and I sat at an ornate table. I felt as if our positioning was deceitful. I was on Maxon’s right. I always thought being on someone’s right was a good thing, an honored position. But so far he’d spent the entire time speaking to Kriss. As if I didn’t already know what was coming.
I tried to seem happy as I looked around the room. It was packed. Gavril, of course, was in a corner, speaking into a camera, narrating the events as they happened.
Ashley smiled and waved, and beside her Anna winked at me. I gave them a nod, still too nervous to speak. Toward the back of the room, in deceptively clean clothes, August, Georgia, and some of the other Northern rebels sat at a table by themselves. Of course Maxon would want them here to meet his new wife. Little did he know she was one of their own.
They surveyed the room tensely, as if they feared any second a guard would recognize them and attack. The guards didn’t seem to be paying attention though. In fact, this was the first time I’d ever seen them look so poorly focused, eyes meandering around the room, several of them on edge. I’d even noticed that one or two hadn’t shaved and looked a little rough. It was a big event though. Maybe they were just rushed.
My eyes flitted over to Queen Amberly, speaking with her sister Adele and her gaggle of children. She looked radiant. She’d been waiting for this day for so long. She would love Kriss like her own. For a moment, I was so jealous of that fact.
I turned and scanned the faces of the Selected again, and this time my eyes landed on Celeste. I could see the clear question in her eyes: What are you so worried about? I gave her a minuscule shake of my head, letting her know that I’d lost. She sent me a thin smile and mouthed the words It’ll be okay. I nodded, and I tried to believe her. She turned away, laughing at something someone said; and I finally looked to my right, taking in the face of the guard stationed closest to our table.
Aspen was distracted though. He was looking around the room like so many of the other men in uniform, but he seemed to be trying to think of something. It was as if he was doing a puzzle in his head. I wished he would look my way, maybe try to explain wordlessly what he was worried about, but he didn’t.
“Trying to arrange a time to meet later?” Maxon asked, and I whipped my head back.
“No, of course not.”
“It’s not like it matters. Kriss’s family will be here this afternoon for a small celebration, and yours will be here to take you home. They don’t like for the last loser to be alone. She tends to get dramatic.”
He was so cold, so distant. It was as if it wasn’t even Maxon at all.
“You can keep that house if you want. It’s been paid for. I’d like my letters back though.”
“I read them,” I whispered. “I loved them.”
He huffed as if it was a joke. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Please don’t do this. Please. I love you.” My face was crumpling.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Maxon ordered through gritted teeth. “You put on a smile, and you wear it to the last second.”
I blinked away the tears and gave a weak smile.
“That’ll do. Don’t let that slip until you leave the room, do you understand?” I nodded. He looked into my eyes. “I’ll be glad when you’re gone.”
After he spat out those last words, his smile returned and he faced Kriss again. I stared into my lap a minute, slowing my breathing and putting on a brave face.
When I brought my eyes up again, I didn’t dare to look directly at anyone. I didn’t think I could honor Maxon’s last wish if I did. Instead, I focused on the walls of the room. It was because of that I noticed when most of the guards stepped away from them at some signal I didn’t see. Pieces of red fabric were pulled out of their pockets and tied across their foreheads.
I watched in confusion as a red-marked guard walked up behind Celeste and put a bullet squarely through the back of her head.
The screaming and gunfire exploded at once. Guttural shouts of pain filled the room, adding to the cacophony of chairs screeching, bodies hitting walls, and the stampede of people trying to escape as fast as they could in their heels and suits. The men shouted as they fired, making the whole thing far more terrifying. I watched, stunned, seeing death more times in a handful of seconds than ought to be possible. I looked for the king and queen, but they were gone. I was gripped with fear, unsure if they’d escaped or been captured. I looked for Adele, for her children. I couldn’t see them anywhere, and that was even worse than losing sight of the king and queen.
Beside me, Maxon was trying to calm Kriss. “Get on the floor,” he told her. “We’re going to be fine.”
I looked to my right for Aspen and was in awe for a moment. He was on one knee, taking aim, firing deliberately into the crowd. He must have been very sure of his target to do that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of red. Suddenly a rebel guard was standing in front of us. As I thought the words rebel guard, it all clicked into place. Anne had told me this had happened once before, when the rebels had gotten the guard
s’ uniforms and had sneaked into the palace. But how?
As Kriss let out another cry, I realized that the guards who were sent to our houses hadn’t abandoned their posts at all. They were dead and buried, their clothes stolen and standing in front of us.
Not that this information did me any good now.
I knew that I should run, that Maxon and Kriss should run if they were going to make it. But I was frozen as the menacing figure raised his gun and directed it at Maxon. I looked up at Maxon, and he looked to me. I wished I had time to speak. I turned away, back to the man.
A look of amusement crossed his face. As if he suspected this would be much more entertaining for himself and much more painful for Maxon, he slid his gun ever so slightly to his left and aimed it at me.
I didn’t even think to scream. I couldn’t move at all, but I saw the blur of Maxon’s suit coat as he leaped toward me.
I fell to the ground, but not in the direction I thought I would. Maxon missed me, flying across in front of me. When I hit the floor, I looked up to see Aspen. He’d sprinted to the table and pushed over my chair, crashing on top of me.
“I got him!” someone shouted. “Find the king!”
I heard several shouts of delight, pleased with the declaration. And screaming. So much screaming. As I came out of my stupor, the sounds crashed into my ears again. Other chairs and bodies clamored to the floor. Guards yelled out orders. Shots were fired, and the sickening pops pierced my ears. It was pure pandemonium.
“Are you hurt?” Aspen demanded over the commotion.
I think I shook my head.
“Don’t move.”
I watched as he stood, widened his stance, and aimed. He fired several times, eyes focused and body at ease. By the angle of his shots, it looked like more rebels were trying to get close to us. Thanks to Aspen, they failed.
After a quick survey, he popped down again. “I’m going to get her out of here before she really loses it.”
He crawled over me and grabbed Kriss, who was covering her ears and crying in earnest. Aspen pulled her face up and slapped her. She was stunned into silence long enough to listen to his orders and follow him from the room, shielding her head as she went.
It was getting quieter. People must be leaving now. Or dying.
And then I noticed a very still leg hanging out from under the tablecloth. Oh, God! Maxon!
I scurried under the table to find Maxon breathing with great labor, a large red stain growing across his shirt. There was a wound below his left shoulder, and it looked very serious.
“Oh, Maxon,” I cried. Unsure of what else to do, I balled up the hem of my dress in my hands and pressed it to the bullet wound. He winced a bit. “I’m so sorry.”
He reached up his hand and covered mine. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was about to ruin both our lives.”
“Don’t talk right now. Just focus, okay?”
“Look at me, America.”
I blinked a few times and pulled my gaze up to his eyes. Through the pain, he smiled at me.
“Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway.”
“Shhh,” I urged.
“I’ll love you until my very last breath. Every beat of my heart is yours. I don’t want to die without you knowing that.”
“Please don’t,” I choked.
He took his hand off mine and laced it through my hair. The pressure was light, but it was enough for me to know what he wanted. I bent to kiss him. It was every kiss we’d ever had, all the uncertainty, all the hope.
“Don’t give up, Maxon. I love you; please don’t give up.”
He took an unsteady breath.
Aspen ducked under the table then, and I squealed in fear before I realized who it was.
“Kriss is in a safe room, Your Majesty,” Aspen said, all business. “Your turn. Can you stand?”
He shook his head. “A waste of time. Take her.”
“But, Your Majesty—”
“That’s an order,” he said as forcefully as he could manage.
Maxon and Aspen stared at each other for a long second.
“Yes, sir.”
“No! I won’t go!” I insisted.
“You’ll go,” Maxon said, sounding tired.
“Come on, Mer. We’ll have to hurry.”
“I’m not leaving!”
Quickly, as if he might suddenly be fine, Maxon reached up to Aspen’s uniform and clutched it in his hands. “She lives. Do you understand me? Whatever it takes, she lives.”
Aspen nodded and grabbed my arm harder than I thought possible.
“No!” I cried. “Maxon, please!”
“Be happy,” he breathed, squeezing my hand one last time as Aspen dragged me away, screaming.
As we got to the door, Aspen pushed me up against the wall. “Shut up! They’ll hear you. The sooner I get you to a safe room, the sooner I can come back for him. You have to do whatever I say, got it?”
I nodded.
“Okay, stay low and quiet,” he said, pulling out his gun again and dragging me into the hall.
We looked up and down, and saw someone running away from us at the far end of the corridor. Once he was gone we moved. Around the corner we stumbled upon a guard on the ground. Aspen checked his pulse and shook his head. He reached over and grabbed the guard’s gun, and handed it to me.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I whispered, terrified.
“Fire it. But make sure you know if it’s a friend or a foe before you do. This is mayhem.”
It was a tense few minutes of ducking into corners and checking safe rooms that were already taken and locked. It seemed that most of the action had moved upstairs or outside, because the pops of gunshots and faceless screams were muffled by walls. Still, each time we heard a whisper of a sound, we paused before moving.
Aspen peeked around a corner. “This is a dead end, so keep a lookout.”
I nodded. We moved quickly to the end of the short hallway, and the first thing I noticed was the bright sun coming in through the window. Didn’t the sky know the world was falling apart? How could the sun shine today?
“Please, please, please,” Aspen whispered, reaching for the lock. Mercifully, it opened. “Yes!” He sighed, pulling back the door, blocking half the hall from view.
“Aspen, I don’t want to do this.”
“You have to. You have to be safe, for so many people. And . . . I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
He fidgeted. “If something happens to me . . . I need you to tell—”
Over his shoulder, a hint of red came from behind the corner at the end of the hall. I jerked the gun up and pointed it past Aspen, firing at the figure. Not a second later, Aspen pushed me into the safe room and slammed the door, leaving me alone in the dark.
CHAPTER 31
I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I sat there. I kept listening for something outside the door, even though I knew it was useless. When Maxon and I had been locked in a safe room a few weeks ago, we couldn’t hear a single sound from the outside world. And there had been so much destruction then.
Still, I hoped. Maybe Aspen was okay and would open the door at any second. He couldn’t be dead. No. Aspen was a fighter; he’d always been a fighter. When hunger and poverty threatened him, he pushed back. When the world took away his dad, he made sure his family survived. When the Selection took me, when the draft took him, he didn’t let it stop him from hoping. Compared to all that, a bullet was tiny, insignificant. No bullet was taking down Aspen Leger.
I pressed my ear up to the door, praying for a word, a breath, anything. I focused, listening for something that sounded like Maxon’s labored breathing as he lay dying underneath the table.
I pinched my eyes together, begging God to keep him alive. Certainly, everyone in the palace would be looking for Maxon and his parents. They would be the first ones helped. They wouldn’t let him die; they couldn’t.
/> But was it past hope?
He’d looked so pale. Even the last squeeze of my hand was weak.
Be happy.
He loved me. He really loved me. And I loved him. In spite of everything that should have kept us apart—our castes, our mistakes, the world around us—we were supposed to be together.
I should be with him. Especially now, while he lay dying. I shouldn’t be hiding.
I stood up and started feeling around the walls for the light switch. I slapped the steel until I found it. I surveyed the space. It was smaller than the other room I’d been in. It had a sink but no toilet, just a bucket in one corner. A bench was pressed up against the wall by the door, and a shelf with some packets of food and blankets lined the back. And then finally, on the floor, the gun sat cold and waiting.
I didn’t even know if this would work, but I had to try. I pulled the bench over to the middle of the room and tipped it on its side with the wide seat propped up toward the door. I crouched below it, checking the height, and realized that wasn’t going to be much cover. It would have to do though.
As I stood, I tripped over my stupid dress. Huffing, I hunted on the shelves. The thin knife was probably for opening and dividing food, but it worked on the material just fine. Once my dress was cut into an uneven hem around my knees, I took some of the fabric and made a makeshift belt and tucked the knife in it for good measure.
I pulled the blankets over myself, expecting there to be some sort of shrapnel. Looking one more time around the room, I tried to see if there was anything I should take with me, something I could repurpose. No. This was it.
Ducking behind the bench, I aimed the gun at the lock, took a steadying breath, and fired.
The sound echoed in the tiny space, scaring me even though I’d been expecting it. Once I was sure that the bullet wasn’t ricocheting around the room, I went up to check the door. Above the lock, a small crater sat, exposing rough layers of metal. I was upset that I’d missed, but at least I knew this might work. If I hit the lock enough times, maybe I could get out of here.