He had to do it. He had to open the door and tell her. But he didn't want to. Prince Maxon Schreave, heir to the throne of Illéa, was terrified of a teenage girl. Celeste wouldn't cry, so he was safe from that. She liked him, but she never really loved him. They were really more friends than anything else, although there were a few choice things that definitely didn't happen between friends. She didn't want him, but she wanted the title. She would be very angry. And if the rumours were true, and she really had provoked Anna, put glass in Elise's shoes, tried to steal America's dress, beaten her maids and more, she was not to be messed with when she was angry. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
"Come in" He heard a lazy call. Where were her maids? Slowly, he opened the door. Maxon found that her belongings were half packed. She turned to face him. "Let me guess. You're really sorry and you want me to know that you care about me a lot, but it can't work out because you're in love with someone else-cough America cough-so you have to let me go to propose to her?"
"Oh"
"And let me guess. Me and Elise are going, but Kriss' staying until you propose because, really, you would've picked her if America didn't exist anyways. "
"I want you to understand that-"
"It's ok. I don't mind," She stood up, looking very threatening, and Maxon was reminded of why he was scared in the first place. "But I want you to understand that, no offense, America Singer is too good for you-"
"Believe me, I know" She nodded.
"So if you screw this up, you have me to answer to"
"Understood." With anyone else, it would've seemed they were leaving on bad terms, but this was just Celeste. He turned to leave.
"Oh, and Maxon?"
"Yes?"
"Congratulations" He grinned.
"Thanks. But you can't-"
"Tell anybody. I know, but all the same." Prince Maxon Schreave, heir to the throne of Illéa, stood in a teenage girl's doorway, a soft smile playing on his face.
"It's been a pleasure"
"Likewise, Your Majesty"