Three weeks after sending my last letter, I still hadn't received a reply from Maxon. I tried to carry on my life as normal, but I kept being distracted by various daydreams – where we would go; how we would hide; what it would be like to be alone with Maxon, without worrying about my maids or Aspen or anyone coming in…
Interspersed with these simultaneously hopeful and nervous thoughts were more anxiety-inducing ones: why hadn't he replied? Had Clarkson found out about our letters? Had Maxon decided to stay at the palace?
With every day that passed without a word, the latter seemed increasingly likely.
Four days later, I came down to breakfast to a parcel waiting at my seat. May and Gerad were eyeing it curiously, while both my parents tried to seem uninterested, but were failing miserably.
'It just arrived,' Mum said to me as I looked at it in bewilderment. 'This man just handed it to Dad when he answered the door, apparently. Didn't answer any questions – only said, "For America", then left.'
I frowned, then a lightbulb switched itself on in the back of my mind. What if this was Maxon's message?
Suddenly eager, I ripped the brown paper off. A white box greeted me, which I opened carefully. Inside were a dozen of the palace's strawberry tarts. May squealed in delight, already reaching for one, only to be promptly reprimanded by Mum.
'There's a note,' Dad said, pointing. An envelope was wedged between a row of tarts and the side of the box. I plucked it from the box and tore it open.
For the Singers, the letter declared.
My heart stopped.
It was Maxon's handwriting.
As far as your family can know, these are from Aspen. He's friends with one of the cooks and she let him take a few. One of his fellow officers was on his way home on leave, and since he also lived in Carolina, Aspen thought this was the perfect opportunity to deliver them.
I relayed this information to my family. 'How sweet that Aspen is,' Mum cooed. 'He'll make a girl very happy someday, I should think.' I ducked my head, allowing my hair to hide both my blush and my smile.
With a promise to May that she would be allowed one tonight, I excused myself and fled to my room.
As you have probably guessed by now, this is indeed the message I asked you to wait for. I'm sorry that it has taken me this long to reply, but there were many elements that had to be put in place before I could tell you anything.
I can only give you the barest details, my dear. You must be ready to leave tonight. The sooner we leave, the better. At midnight, head to the treehouse where you used to meet Aspen. Someone will join you – they will take you to the place where I will meet you. Look unto the North Star when they find you. It will show you the way.
Yours forever,
Maxon.
I sat back on my bed and stared at the wall. Tonight. I was leaving tonight. I'd known I was leaving – had been looking forward to it, even – but now it was staring me in the face. And I didn't know what to expect.
Dad was in the workshop at the back of the house, where he and May worked on their paintings. Having added the finishing touches to a piece commissioned by a Three who wanted something to decorate her office, he set down his paintbrush and caught sight of me lingering in the doorway.
'Hey, kitten,' he said, untying his apron.
'I have something I need to tell you,' I said.
He nodded at the old sofa in the corner. I sank into its faded cushions, tucking my feet under me as he took a seat next to me. 'What's the matter?'
I bit my lip. 'The tarts, this morning… they weren't from Aspen.' Dad raised an eyebrow.
'They were from Maxon.'
At that, Dad sucked in a breath, then frowned. 'I'm guessing this wasn't the first correspondence you've received from him since you left the palace?'
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of my lips. 'No.'
'How long have you been speaking?' Dad asked curiously.
'A few months? He had to wait for the king to stop watching him constantly before he could find a way to send me a letter.'
Dad's frown had given way to a fond smile, even as his eyes stayed wary. 'That boy really does love you, doesn't he?'
My shy answering smile was all the reply Dad needed. He squeezed my hand tightly. 'So what's the matter?' he repeated.
'The note that came with the tarts… it said–'
'Helloooo!' May sang as she came into the workshop. Seeing me, she stopped short. 'Mer, what are you doing in here? You never come to the workshop.' She grinned mischievously. 'Do you want me to paint you? Oh, please say that's it, I've been wanting to try to paint your hair for aaaages.'
All at once, she picked up on the tension emanating from the sofa. 'Did I interrupt something?'
I made a face. 'Actually, it's probably better that you're here too.' I patted the arm of the couch and she perched on it next to me.
I took a deep breath. 'I'm leaving.'
'You're… what?' May suddenly sounded very young. 'Why?'
'There's a new Selection happening at the palace. The king wants Maxon to marry within the next few months… but he still loves me. And I love him.' I looked at my sister, willing her to understand. 'If we don't leave now, we never can. So I'm leaving. Tonight.'
I realised that Dad hadn't said anything yet. I tried to meet his eyes, but he was staring out of the window. His face was expressionless.
'Dad?' I whispered. 'What are you thinking?'
He turned his head and met my gaze. 'As sad as I am that you're leaving… I'm glad you've found someone you are willing to risk everything for.'
'You aren't going to stop her?' May frowned. 'How come?'
Dad looked up at my sister. 'Your sister is very lucky, May. She's found the thing most people spend their lives searching for. So no, I won't stop her.' His gaze shifted back to me. 'But I will ask you to be careful… and to tell us what's happening when you're together again.'
My eyes filled with tears. 'I will,' I promised thickly. Then I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I felt May wrap her arms around my waist, almost crushing the breath out of me.
I drew back. 'Can you tell Mum tomorrow? I had to tell you – I couldn't stand the thought of leaving without an explanation. But Mum won't understand. But once I'm gone, she can't stop me. Tell her… I love her. And that I'm sorry.'
'Of course,' May said softly. Dad simply nodded once, then squeezed my hand again.
Somehow, that was all the reassurance I needed.
At ten to twelve that night, I gave May a final hug, kissed my father on the cheek, and slung my bag on my back. I opened the window in my room and climbed out. I gave them one final smile, heard them whisper 'Good luck,' then dropped to the ground.
I crept across the backyard, then clambered into the treehouse. I hadn't brought a candle or a torch out, so I was left in total darkness. After a few minutes, my eyes started to adjust to the gloom, so by the time a head popped up in the opening of the treehouse, I was able to see long hair, a small nose, and wide eyes reflecting back the light of the moon.
The girl shifted, and I noticed something glinting on the lapel of her jacket, catching the moonlight. Squinting, I was able to make out an eight-pointed star. Four of the points were longer than the others, so it looked like the symbol for a compass pointing North on a map… Look unto the North Star. That's what Maxon meant!
At least I knew I had the right person.
I jumped down from the treehouse and followed the girl over the wall separating our backyard from the road leading out of town. Somehow, despite my clumsiness, I managed to do it both relatively quietly and without hurting myself, so when I straightened, I had an irrationally smug smile on my face. That smile faded when two men rounded a corner and noticed two girls lurking in the dark well after curfew. With a yell, they started running at us.
I felt the girl tugging at my arm.
'Run!' she hissed.
Thankful that I wasn't wearing a skirt, I sprinted behind the girl down the road, then swerved round a corner, dodging bins left out for the next morning as we ran through an alley. We kept taking seemingly random turns, until a stitch stabbed me in the side. I drew up short, panting, and touched my toes in an attempt to lessen the pain. The girl realised I wasn't with her anymore, so hurried back to my side. Whispering in case the men were still nearby, which I doubted, given our mad dash away, she said, 'We have to keep going, America. Just a couple more blocks.'
I grimaced, but straightened anyway. True to her word, two blocks later we surfaced in a cul-de-sac where a run-down black car was waiting.
At a nod from the girl, I clambered into the car. I had rarely been in a car before, the last time being when one brought me home from the airport when I returned from the palace. I awkwardly took my rucksack off, stowing it by my feet.
The engine purred to life – apparently the exterior was a front for the obviously well-maintained car – and I nodded in thanks as the girl melted back into the shadows.
'Seatbelt, please.' The driver, dressed all in black, was barely visible in the darkness. As I clicked it into place, we moved off smoothly, barely making a noise. I slumped back in my seat, abruptly exhausted from the hour and the emotional rollercoaster that today had been.
I realised that I had no idea what the plan was now. I leaned forward and asked the driver my most pressing question. 'Where are we going?'
'Clermont, miss. Tallahassee, to be precise.'
Tallahassee. I'd never heard of it before. But it was in Clermont, where Celeste was from. Maybe we could see her before we started on the next leg of our journey. I knew Maxon wouldn't risk staying in the place where we met – enough people would know about it that it probably wouldn't be safe to stay for long. But I liked the sound of it – a place for a fresh start. A place to start a new life.
A place to start a home.
