In general, the animosity had settled as well. We were getting used to one another. We finally found out the magazine’s top picks for our photographs. I was shocked to see I was one of the front-runners. Marlee was in the top spot, with Kriss, Tallulah, and Bariel close behind. Celeste didn’t talk to Bariel for days upon hearing this, but eventually everyone let it pass.
What still seemed to bring the most tension were the bits of information tossed around. Whoever had been with Maxon recently couldn’t help but gush about their little interlude. The way everyone spoke, it seemed as if Maxon was going to be choosing six or seven wives. But not everyone was shining in this experience.
For instance, Marlee had more than a few dates with Maxon, which put everyone on edge. Still, she never came across as excited as she had after their very first one.
“America, if I tell you this, you have to swear not to tell a soul,” she said as we walked in the garden. I knew it was something serious. She’d waited until we got away from the listening ears in the Women’s Room and far beyond the eyes of the guards.
“Of course, Marlee. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just. . . I need your opinion on something.” Her face was heavy with worry.
“What’s wrong?”
She bit her lip. “It’s Maxon. I’m not sure it’s going to work out.” She looked down.
“What makes you think that?” I asked, concerned.
“Well, for starters, I don’t. . . I don’t feel anything, you know? No spark, no connection.”
“Maxon can be a little shy is all. You have to give him time.” This was true. I was surprised she didn’t know that about him.
“No, I mean, I don’t think I like him.”
“Oh.” That was something very different. “Have you tried?” What a stupid question.
“Yes! So hard! I keep waiting for a moment to come when he’ll say or do something to make me feel like we have something in common, but it never happens. I think he’s handsome, but that’s not enough to build a whole relationship on. I don’t even know if he’s attracted to me. Do you have any idea what kind of things he, you know, likes?”
I thought about it. “No, actually. We’ve never talked about what he’s looking for in the physical department.”
“And that’s another thing! We never talk. He talks on and on to you, but we never seem to have anything to say. We spend a lot of our time quietly watching something or playing cards.”
She looked more worried by the minute.
“Sometimes we’re quiet together, too. Sometimes we just sit and say nothing. Besides, feelings like that don’t always happen overnight. Maybe you’re both just taking it slow.” I tried to sound reassuring—Marlee looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“Honestly, America, I think the only reason I’m still here is because the people like me so much. I think their opinions matter to him.”
That thought hadn’t occurred to me, but it sounded plausible. Long ago, I’d dismissed their opinion, but Maxon loved his people. They’d have more of a hand in choosing the next princess than they would know.
“And besides,” she whispered, “everything between us feels so . . . empty.”
Then the tears came.
I sighed and hugged her. Truthfully, I wanted her to stay, to be here with me, but if she didn’t love Maxon. . .
“Marlee, if you don’t want to be with Maxon, I think you need to tell him.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think I can.”
“You have to. He doesn’t want to marry someone who doesn’t love him. If you don’t have any feelings for him, he needs to know.”
She shook her head. “I can’t just ask to leave! I need to stay. I couldn’t go home . . . not now.”
“Why, Marlee? What’s keeping you here?”
For a moment, I wondered if Marlee and I shared the same dark secret. Maybe there was someone she needed distance from, too. The only difference in our situations was that Maxon knew about mine. I wanted her to say it! I wanted to know I wasn’t the only one who’d ended up here out of some ridiculous circumstances.
But Marlee’s tears stopped almost as quickly as they started. She sniffed a few times and straightened up. She smoothed out her day dress, squared her shoulders, and turned to face me. She pulled a strong, warm smile to her face and spoke.
“You know what? I bet you’re right.” She started to back away. “I’m sure if I just give it some time, it’ll all work out. I have to go. Tiny’s expecting me.”
Marlee half ran back to the palace. What in the world had come over her?
The next day, Marlee avoided me. The day after that, too. I made a point of sitting in the Women’s Room at a safe distance and making sure to acknowledge her whenever we crossed paths. I wanted her to know that she could trust me; I wouldn’t make her talk.
It took four days for her to give me a sad, knowing smile. I just nodded. It seemed that would be all there was to say about whatever was going on in Marlee’s heart.
That same day, while I was sitting in the Women’s Room, Maxon called for me. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t absolutely giddy when I ran out the door and into his arms.
“Maxon!” I breathed, falling into him. When I stepped back, he sort of fumbled a moment, and I knew why. The day we’d left the Swendway reception and went inside to talk, I confessed what a hard time I was having dealing with the way I felt. And I asked him not to kiss me until I was more certain. I could tell he was hurt, but he nodded and hadn’t broken his promise yet. It was just too hard to decipher those feelings when he acted like he was my boyfriend, but clearly wasn’t.
There were still twenty-two girls here after Camille, Mikaela, and Laila had been sent home. Camille and Laila were simply incompatible and left with very little fanfare. Mikaela got so homesick she burst into heaving sobs during breakfast two days later. Maxon escorted her from the room, patting her shoulder the whole way. He seemed fine with letting them go, and was happy to focus on his other prospects, myself included. But he and I both knew it would be foolish of him to invest his heart completely in me when even I wasn’t sure where mine was.
“How are you today?” he asked, stepping back.
“Perfect, of course. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“The president of the Infrastructure Committee is sick, so the meeting was postponed. I’m free as a bird all afternoon.” His eyes were gleaming. “What do you want to do?” he asked, holding his arm out for me.
“Anything! There’s so much of the palace I still haven’t seen. There are horses here, right? And the movie theater. You still haven’t taken me there.”
“Let’s do that. I could use something relaxing. What kinds of movies do you like best?” he asked as we started walking toward where I guessed the stairwell to the basement was.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t get to watch a lot of movies. But I like romantic books. And comedies, too!”
“Romance, you say?” He raised his eyebrows like he was up to no good. I had to laugh.
We turned a corner and continued to talk. As we approached, a mass of the palace guard pulled to the side of the hall and saluted. There had to be more than a dozen men standing in the hallway. I was used to them by now. Even the sight of a collection that big couldn’t distract me from the fun time I was about to have with Maxon.
What did stop me was when I heard the gasp that escaped someone’s mouth as we passed. Maxon and I both turned.
And there was Aspen.
I gasped, too.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard some administrator in the palace talk about the draft in passing. I had wondered about Aspen, but seeing as I was running late to one of Silvia’s many lessons, I didn’t really have a chance to speculate much.
So he’d been taken by the draft after all. Of all the places he could have gone. . .
Maxon caught on. “America, do you know this young man?”
It ha
d been more than a month since I’d seen Aspen, but this was the person I’d spent years committing to memory, the person who still visited my dreams. I would know him anywhere. He looked a little bigger, like he’d been fed, really fed, and was working out a lot. His scraggly hair had been cut short, practically all gone. And I was used to seeing him in secondhand clothes that were barely being held together by threads, and here he was in one of the brilliant, fitted uniforms of the palace guard.
He was alien and familiar at once. So many of the things around him seemed wrong. But those eyes . . . those were Aspen’s eyes.
My eyes fell to the name tag on his uniform: OFFICER LEGER.
I doubted a second had passed.
I kept myself composed enough that no one saw the storm raging inside—a miracle in and of itself. I wanted to touch him, kiss him, scream at him, demand he leave my sanctuary. I wanted to melt away and disappear, but I felt so very here.
None of it made sense.
I cleared my throat. “Yes. Officer Leger comes from Carolina. He’s actually from my hometown.” I smiled at Maxon.
No doubt Aspen would have heard us laughing as we rounded the corner, would have noted that my arm was still draped on the prince’s. Let him make of that what he would.
Maxon seemed excited for me. “Well, how about that! Welcome, Officer Leger. You must be happy to see your Champion Girl again.” Maxon held his hand out, and Aspen shook it.
Aspen’s face was like a stone. “Yes, Your Majesty. Very much so.”
What did that mean?
“I’m sure you’re pulling for her, too,” Maxon encouraged as he winked at me.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Aspen bowed his head a bit.
And what did that mean?
“Excellent. Since America is from your home province, I can’t think of a better man in the palace to leave her with. I’ll make sure you’re put on her guard rotation. This girl of yours refuses to keep a maid in her room at night. I’ve tried to tell her....” Maxon shook his head at me.
Aspen finally seemed to relax a bit. “I’m not surprised by that, Your Majesty.”
Maxon smiled. “Well, I’m sure you all have a busy day ahead of you. We’ll just be off. Good day, officers.” Maxon gave a quick nod and pulled me away.
It took all the strength in my body not to look back.
In the dark of the theater, I tried to figure out what to do. Maxon had made it clear from the night I’d told him about Aspen that he hated anyone who would treat me with so little care. If I told Maxon that the man he’d just assigned to watch over me was that very person, would he punish him somehow? I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d invented an entire support system for the country based on my stories of being hungry.
So I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t tell him. Because as mad as I was, I loved Aspen. And I couldn’t bear him being hurt.
Then should I leave? The ambivalence pulled at my heart. I could escape Aspen, get away from his face—a face that would torture me every day when I saw it and knew it was no longer mine. But if I left, I’d have to leave Maxon, too. And Maxon was my closest friend, maybe even more. I couldn’t just go. Besides, how would I explain it without telling him Aspen was here?
And my family. Maybe the checks they got were smaller, but at least they were getting them. May had written saying that Dad was promising our best Christmas ever this year, but I was sure that came with the stipulation that another Christmas might never be as good. If I left, who could say how much money my past fame would bring for my family? We had to save up as much as we could now.
“You didn’t like that one, did you?” Maxon asked nearly two hours later.
“Huh?”
“The movie. You didn’t laugh or anything.”
“Oh.” I tried to remember one little piece of information, a single scene that I could say I’d enjoyed. Nothing registered. “I think I’m just a little out of it today. Sorry you wasted your afternoon.”
“Nonsense.” Maxon waved away my lackluster attitude. “I just enjoy your company. Though perhaps you should take a nap before dinner. You’re looking a little pale.”
I nodded. I was considering going to my room and never coming back out.
CHAPTER 21
IN THE END, I DECIDED against hiding in my room. Instead I chose the Women’s Room. Usually I darted in and out all day, visiting libraries, taking walks with Marlee, or even heading back upstairs to visit my maids. But now I was using the Women’s Room like a cave. No men, not even guards, were allowed inside without the queen’s express permission. It was perfect.
Well, it was perfect for three days. With this many girls, it was only a matter of time until someone had a birthday. Kriss’s was on Thursday. I guessed she’d mentioned it to Maxon—who seemed to never pass up an opportunity to give someone something—and the outcome was a mandatory party for all the Selected. As a result, Thursday was a mad rush of girls in and out of one another’s rooms, asking what they were wearing or guessing at how grand it would be.
It didn’t appear that gifts were required, but I figured I’d do something nice for her all the same.
On the day of the party, I donned one of my favorite day dresses and grabbed my violin. I crept down to the Great Room, looking around corners before I committed to walking on. Once I made it to the room, I did another sweep, surveying the guards who lined the walls. Mercifully, Aspen was nowhere to be seen, and I had to chuckle at the presence of so many men in uniform. Were they expecting a riot or something?
The Great Room was decorated beautifully. Special vases hung on the wall, displaying huge arrangements of yellow and white flowers, and similar bouquets sat in bowls around the room. Windows, stretches of wall, and pretty much anything that didn’t move was draped in garlands. A few small tables had been set out, and they were covered with bright linens. Little bits of glittering confetti sparkled on the table-tops. Ornate bows adorned the backs of chairs.
In one corner, a massive cake that matched the colors of the room waited to be cut. Next to it, a small table held a few gifts for the birthday girl.
A string quartet was set up against the wall, effectively making my attempt at a gift meaningless, and a photographer wandered the room, capturing moments for the public eye.
The mood in the room was playful. Tiny—who had so far only managed to get close to Marlee—was talking to Emmica and Jenna and looking more animated than I’d ever seen her. Marlee hovered near a window, looking like one of the many guards dotting the wall. She made no effort to leave her chosen spot but stopped anyone who passed by to chat. A group of Threes—Kayleigh, Elizabeth, and Emily—all turned and waved and smiled. I returned the gesture. Everyone seemed so friendly and happy today.
Except for Celeste and Bariel. Usually they were inseparable, but today they were on opposite ends of the room, with Bariel speaking to Samantha, and Celeste sitting alone at a table, clutching a crystal glass of deep red liquid. I’d obviously missed something between yesterday’s dinner and this afternoon.
I gripped my violin case again and walked toward the back of the room to see Marlee.
“Hi, Marlee. This is something, isn’t it?” I asked, setting down the violin.
“It sure is.” She hugged me. “I hear Maxon’s coming by later to wish Kriss a happy birthday in person. Isn’t that sweet? I’ll bet he has a present, too.”
Marlee went on in her typical enthusiastic way. I still wondered what her secret was, but I trusted her enough to bring up the subject if she really needed to talk about it. We spoke of little nothings for a few minutes until we heard a general clamor at the front end of the room.
Marlee and I both turned, and while she remained calm, I was completely deflated.
Kriss’s dress choice had been incredibly strategic. Here we all were in day dresses—short, girlish things—and she was in a floor-length gown. But the length meant little. It was that her dress was a creamy, almost white color. Her hair was done up with a row of yell
ow jewels pinned into a line across the front in a very subtle resemblance to a crown. She looked mature, regal, bridal.
Even though I wasn’t entirely sure where my heart was, I felt a pang of jealousy. None of us would ever get a similar moment. No matter how many parties or dinners came and went, it would be rather pathetic to try to copy Kriss’s look. I saw Celeste’s hand—the one that wasn’t clutching her drink—ball into a fist.
“She looks really pretty,” Marlee commented wistfully.
“Better than pretty,” I replied.
The party continued on, and Marlee and I mostly crowd-watched. Surprisingly—and suspiciously—Celeste clung to Kriss, talking up a storm as Kriss circled the room, thanking everyone for coming, even though we really had no choice.
Eventually she made it to the back corner where Marlee and I were standing, soaking up the warm sun from the windows. Marlee, true to form, threw her arms around Kriss.
“Happy birthday!” she squealed.
“Thank you!” Kriss replied, returning Marlee’s affection and enthusiasm.
“So you’re nineteen today, right?” Marlee asked.
“Yes. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate. I’m so glad they’re taking pictures. My mother will love this! Even though we do pretty well, we’ve never had money to have something like this. It’s so beautiful!” she gushed.
Kriss was a Three. There weren’t nearly as many limits to her life as mine, but I’d imagine anything close to this scale would be hard to justify.
“It is impressive,” Celeste commented. “For my birthday last year, I had a black and white party. Any trace of color, and you weren’t even allowed in the door.”
“Wow,” Marlee whispered, obvious envy in the tiny word.
“It was fantastic. Gourmet food, dramatic lighting, and the music! Well, we flew in Tessa Tamble. You’ve heard of her?”
It was impossible not to know Tessa Tamble. She had at least a dozen hit songs. Sometimes we saw videos of hers on TV, though that was frowned on by Mom. She thought we were infinitely more talented than anyone like Tessa, and it irked her to no end that she had fame and money when we didn’t for doing essentially the same thing.