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I walk into breakfast the next day filled with nerves. Today we visit Labrador. My maids had a tough time trying to fix up my makeup so it didn't look like I was crying all night long.

I usually sit next to Maxon at breakfast, but I'm nervous today. I walk through the car door and Maxon looks up and smiles, and with a very swift motion, tugs his ear. I smile back and return the gesture before taking a cozy seat next to him.

I wonder what on earth he wants to say to me now. Maybe he's letting me go. No. We are in the middle of Illea on a train, he won't let me go, I hope. Well, he is the prince, anything is possible.

I meet him in an empty carriage and wait patiently. He walks in shortly.

"Maxon!" I smile.

"Hello, my dear." He laughs. I know I usually hate it, but a sort of relief comes to me when he says it.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Well, I slept, thinking about what happened last night and thought this is a chance to let everything out. Be totally and completely honest with each other." Maxon replies.

"Oh, well that was the only one I had. I feel so much weight lifted now that it's out." I say. "Do you have anything?"

"Well yes, sort of. It's from my childhood. When I was little I would always disobey my father. He would want me to focus on my work and study, but all I really wanted to do was go outside and play."

"Like most children." I add. Maxon nods.

"Yes, well, one day I skipped an English Literature lesson with my tutor and climbed an old oak tree in the gardens. I stayed there for a while, admiring the sky and grass and plants around me. I think that's how I became so obsessed with photography. Anyway, when I returned my father was angry, very angry. He'd gotten mad a couple times before, but this time he was fuming." Maxon hesitated, as if remembering the memory. "As soon as he found me I was slapped. He hit me when I was only eight years old. It hurt so much. It had never happened before, so I didn't know what to do."

"Maxon what's the point of this?"

"Well that's sort of how I felt last night." Maxon said. I couldn't say anything, I was too crushed to make him feel that way. "But after, I saw it as a way to grow and strengthen myself for the future, sure there were some whippings along the way but there all worth it, when you know you've got something good to hold on to. That's you, America."

I'm pretty sure I was about to start crying.

"Please, don't cry anymore. That's one of the most painful things I've ever had to deal with." Maxon sighs, pulling me into him.

"I don't deserve you," I mumble into his shirt. He rubs the back of my head, soothingly.

"Don't say that. If anything I don't deserve you. All the things you've taught and shown me that don't relate to being a prince. You're my savior."

"Stop it Maxon!" I complain.

"What did I do?" He asks, pulling away to make eye contact.

"You keep saying such endearing things that make me want to cry more." I say and Maxon laughs, pulling me into him again.

"My apologies. I will try to say something less endearing next time." He chuckles.

"Good."

Now we were in Bankston, Natalie's province. Instead of tea, we would be attending a memorial service in memory of her sister. I didn't want to go. I would find it way too depressing, but it was compulsory for everyone.

My dress was way too gloomy, but still magnificent – in a gloomy way, I suppose. The dress was a blooming, black gown that touched the floor and the bodice was wrapped in lace around my shoulders. They attached a small, back hat onto the top of my head with lace veil hanging over my face.

I couldn't stand the service. I've never been to a funeral before and I never wanted to again. The small girl's coffin was center stage in front of everyone, her crying family in the front row, the tears shed and hesitations of speeches from memories before she passed. Natalie was a wreck, stunning of course in her black gown, but utterly depressed. Her silent sobs and snuffles were enough to break me.

All I could think of was if I was in her place instead of Natalie. And that was May's little coffin up there and I would be crying my eyes out. I couldn't help but let silent tears roll down my cheeks, hoping the camera wasn't getting it.

I didn't think it was necessary to have cameras record this personal detail and event in Natalie's life. But she was an Elite, so important, so significant.

I tried to enjoy myself at the after party, plastering a smile on my face and chatting up the guests. I offered my condolences to Natalie and her family. Natalie seemed different, like she changed in some way. It was almost as if she was in another place. I tried to put myself in her shoes and found I would have probably done the same thing.

Then it seems as though we zoomed through Whites, Bonita, Midston, Belcourt, St. George, Panama, Denbeigh, Calgary, Baffin, Ottaro, Lakedon, Yukon and Dominica.

And now it was finally time for my favorite province,

Carolina.