America
Maxon left five days ago and the palace has seemed like hell without him. Kriss came to me asking about my relationship with Maxon, how far it's gone, if he's made promises. I said that we've kissed and that there are no valid promises between us, and it almost killed me to put into words the truth I have known since he left my room. That the promises we had made, said and felt, were no longer valid.
I miss him.
The emptiness that has consumed my heart isn't like the viscous beast that had devoured me after Aspen, rough and brutal. It is more like something triggered a black hole in the center of my heart and it is slowly sucking more of me into it. The gardens are dull reminders, it's blooms invoking an anguish deep in my soul. I find solace in my violin, playing longer, more complicated pieces, curtesy of the palace. Lucy has taken to doing her work in the room while I play. I yearn for the comfortable silence that has formed between us, as it's unlikely I will be able to enjoy it for much longer.
Sometimes I catch the queen watching me. Her gaze nearly breaks my resolve to stay until Maxon returns. I can't help the tidal wave of guilt that washes over me at her private inquiries. A few times I'm tempted to release all the shame in one long scream, that way she would know that I didn't disregard her advice, but took it to heart, wrecking both mine and her son's.
My nights are filled with self accusations as I constantly put my actions on trial. The juries out on whether or not it was more selfish to relieve my own guilt at the expense of Maxon's heart or to never tell him of my mistakes. More often than I care to admit, I wish I could go back in time and untell him.
"My Lady, it's time to wake up," a gentle voice pulls me from my half sleeping state.
I roll over and my eyes fall upon the dress laid across my vanity. "Anne?" I ask when I notice the intricacies stitched into the fabric, unusual for a morning dress.
"The prince returned last night, my lady. We wanted you to look your best."
I examine the dress from my bed, it's truly beautiful. Simple, but elegantly made. I would definitely stand out from the ladies, while still conforming to the palace norms. Once again, I'm in awe of my maids. That why it hurts me so much to say, "Anne, I don't think I can go down to breakfast this morning."
Concern overtakes her face, "Are you feeling ill, My Lady?"
"A little," I say, hiding my face so she won't be able to check symptoms. It's not a lie, my chest feels as if its trying to suffocate itself. But it's not an illness that can be treated. I can't see him yet, I can't deal with the look of distrust and indifference he gives me.
"But My Lady, the Prince," Anne protests, thinking I would be jumping at the opportunity to see him after his trip, no doubt chalking up my depressed mood over the last week to be results of his absence. And it is, but not his physical absence.
"Give my apologies, but I do not feel well enough to go down to breakfast."
"Of course, My Lady. Would you like me to fetch the doctor?"
"No, that won't be necessary, Anne. A few headache pills and I'll be fine."
"Right away, My Lady." Anne goes to the windows, "I'll redarken the room and allow you to rest."
"Thank you, Anne." I slide back down into the blankets as if to go to sleep, my intent to hide from the world until the foreboding summons comes. Maxon is back, so it will be coming soon.
Without realizing I fall asleep again, a side effect from not being able to sleep during the night. When I awake, I can hear hushed voices coming from my closet. I recognize the voices of Anne and Mary. Apparently Lucy overslept this morning, causing Mary to have to search for her instead of being there to wake me this morning. Although I feel bad for Lucy as I listen to Anne's scolding, I'm glad it happened a morning that we didn't need her that much.
Trying to give them privacy, I focus on getting myself prepared for any situation that might arise from the prince's return. I look down at my thin nightdress, I need to change. I grab the dress from my vanity and fully take it in. It's dark blue with golden lace and falls just over my knees.
There's a knock at my hall door and Mary exits the closet. She looks shocked then guilty that I'm awake. I wave her off and she walks slowly to the door, obviously planning to send them away.
"His Highness has sent for the Lady America," a gruff voice announces.
"My Lady is a little under the weather," Mary starts. I can tell by her body language that she is a little put off by the briskness of what she assumes is an invitation, but, as always, she puts the my needs above everything else.
The guard, clearly unused to his orders not being the final say in any matter, replies, "His Highness was very clear—"
"The Lady America is not to be disturbed until a later time, perhaps this afternoon," Mary says tightly.
"I am under orders not to be deterred," the haughtiness in his voice makes me finally step in. I knew this needed to happen sooner or later.
"It is fine, Mary," I say, drawing their attention to me.
"But My lady—"
"Lady America, the Prince requests your presence," he cuts her off.
"Of course," I give a stressed smile, trying to defuse the tension. "Forgive my maids, officer. I'm afraid their efficiency works against them in this situation."
He merely grunts and gestures down the hall, wanting to waste no more time to fulfill his orders. With a backwards glance at Mary, I follow his directions. We walk in silence, his heavy steps in perfect rhythm, until we reach the third floor. I'm shocked to see that the corridor we are traveling down is the same Maxon had brought me to when we had gone to the library. The guard stops without warning, making me continue walking for a few moments before I realized. I nearly roll my eyes at his rudeness, but then stop at the thought that he might know the reasons behind the summons.
Suddenly I'm terrified. When I had told Maxon, I wasn't thinking about what could happen to me beyond the fact that we would be forever separated. But Maxon could take legal steps, steps that would end my life. The guard knocks on the door but my new found knowledge keeps me from raising my head. I hear his muffled voice for within and my heart stops. Of course I knew Maxon would be waiting for me, but knowing and seeing and hearing him for the first time in nearly a week are very different.
I step into the room and immediately take it all in. Two large bookcases line one wall, floor to ceiling, and the other wall is lined with cabinets and maps covering the wall. The third is made up of a window with deep curtains pulled halfway across it. Towards the front of the room there is a large desk covered with neat stacks of paperwork and not so neat miscellaneous objects scattered between them.
But the two major features in the room represented the two worlds I had foolishly assumed would never meet. Maxon behind his desk and Aspen in a one of the two chairs before it. Aspen doesn't turn around when I enter but Maxon looks up. Our eyes meet. For a moment the world around us faded away and all is silent.
"Sit," he nods to the open chair. I do.
I trace the dark designs on the carpet with my eyes, thanking God my feet just barely touch the ground as I sit in the large chair. Out of the corner of my eye I see Aspen watching me.
"Mer," he whispers. I know it was meant to be low enough fir Maxon not to hear but by his small tensing I know he did.
A single tear glides down my face. How did I get here, my entire world in pieces around me?
"So you do know each other?" My head jerks up at his soft voice, this isn't what I was expecting. But then, Maxon never is. "I had hoped . . ." he trails off, turning away from the desk to look out the window. I study his broad back and my heart constricts as I watch his shoulders sink a fraction.
I know exactly what he hoped, he hoped it wasn't true.
"Your Highness, I thought you already knew Lady America and I knew each other from Carolina. I won't deny that we've had private conversations, but Lady Singer has never been anything but a lady."
"Aspen," I try to stop him, panic blooming inside of me. He is so apt in stressful situations, like that time we had been caught by my maids, and I'm afraid that he will only make it worse. He thinks Maxon doesn't know for sure, he thinks it might have been a rumor that had led to this meeting. That's why he wasn't staring in hatred from the minute I walked in, he hasn't even considered I might have confessed myself.
"Any untoward actions that someone might have seen were solely on my part. She had nothing to do with anything—"
"Aspen, stop," I beg.
"It is obvious that Lady America is in love with you," Maxon jolts at that, "she could never—"
"Aspen!" I put my hand on his arm to grab his attention. He looks at me, confusion and fear spread across his face.
"You are very convincing, Officer Leger," Maxon finally turns back around to face us. His eyes land on my hand on Aspen's arm and I yank it back as if his eyes burnt it. I expected a cringe or something, but Maxon doesn't react to me touching Aspen. It's even worse than the pain. "If I had heard the truth from anyone else, I might have even believed you. I seem to be rather blind when faced with realities I'd rather avoid."
I can feel Aspen's gaze on me but I can't tear mine off of Maxon. There was a time, albeit a short time, that I had thought I would be the one to unload the burdens that rested on the shoulders of a nineteen year old boy forsaken by the world but expected to carry it. Now I'm the one that has caused the greatest strife.
Without moving my focus, I say "I told him, Aspen."
"What," he whispers, incredulously, but when I don't repeat myself he yells it again. "What the hell were you thinking, America!"
Once again I don't respond.
"Look at me, damnit!" He yanks the arm of my chair to the side, spinning me to face him. I stare into his hurt eyes. Eyes that had been my companion for years, eyes that I had memorized in a dim candlelight, eyes that had trusted me, protected me, loved me.
"I'm sorry," I say softly, knowing that those words from me mean little to either of the men in this room.
"Why?" He demands, but has lowered his voice.
"I couldn't lie to him anymore, Aspen. I couldn't," my voice breaks.
"It wasn't just your secret to tell," he replies angrily. "They'll kill us, Mer!"
"No," the word is the firmest I had been able to form since I had entered. "He won't."
"How could you do this? Was it worth it!"
"Yes." Only knowing the answer as it passes my lips. "When you left me in the treehouse, you didn't regret it. Sure, it hurt, but it was the right thing to do. To protect me, love me, even at the cost of your own heart. I didn't understand that decision, I didn't understand that you could love someone like that. But I do now. I know what it's like to love someone so exponentially more than yourself, I know what it's like for the greatest form of love to be something that hurts them. I'm sorry I dragged you into this too. And I'm sorry that I couldn't love you like you loved me. But this secret was my caste, the part of me that wasn't good enough for him. And I couldn't let it poison him. I had to tell him. I couldn't lie to him anymore. It was my choice. My decision."
"Mer," he shakes his head, not wanting to believe me.
"If I had any doubt that Maxon would hurt you, I wouldn't have been able to get close to falling in love with him. He is the best man I've ever known and no matter what you, or anyone, thinks, he will be an amazing king. Trust isn't someone I'm very good at, but I do know it when I see it. And I trusted Maxon with this, not thinking he'll keep it because I was one of his favorites, or because having two ladies defect would humiliate the crown, but because he is fair and just." I turned to look at Maxon, "He won't punish someone for hurting him or for not seeing who he really was before it's too late. He won't hurt someone because they didn't realize how much they loved him until they had already made to many mistakes to ever be worthy of him."
I stare in Maxon's eyes and watch as hundreds of emotions pass through them. "You are dismissed, Officer Leger. Go back to your duties and tell no one of this. I will decide on a further course of action at a later time."
For a moment, Aspen doesn't move and I almost fear he won't. But then I see a shape stand up in my peripheral vision and the sound of footsteps fill the otherwise silent room.
When the door shuts softly, Maxon takes carefully planned steps around the desk like soldier trying to find his way through a mine field. He leans his hip on his desk and crosses his arms over his chest, closing himself off as if his unconscious knew all I did was hurt him and was trying to protect him. "The last time we were attempting to put this thing between us back together, I asked you to tell me something. I let it go because of him," he nods to the recently empty chair. "Because of how he hurt you."
I swallow back the rising tears.
"If you meant everything you just told him, tell me one thing."
"Anything," I breath.
"Tell me what changed. Why did you decide to tell me that night instead of waiting until the end of the Selection or even years after it was over? What made you need to confess that moment?"
"Your mother," I say.
His brow furrows, "My mother?"
I nod. "She came to me after the Italian celebrations. She told me that you deserved to be love selflessly. And I knew that in order for me to do that, I needed to be honest with you. Even if I lost you because of it."
"Love me selflessly?" Maxon asks. "I wasn't even aware you loved me at all."
"How could I not?"
He is quiet a moment, he's been doing that a lot since I walked in, thinking before he speaks. "Don't do that," he says. "Just say the words. No more skirting around it, no more hinting, no more pretenses. Just say the words."
Despite that fact that I haven't allowed myself to hope that he's rethought his words last week and decided to let me stay, I know I can't deny him this, anymore than I can deny my feelings for him. I take a deep breath and breathe the words that have been playing on my mind for so long. "I love you, Maxon."
I expect something, a response, a shift, even a change of breath but nothing comes. The words hang in the air as if they're lighter than the oxygen in the room, but the longer they stay there they drop in my stomach like an anchor.
Finally, he speaks. "Since you've arrived here, you've assaulted me, used me, shunned me, ignored me, yelled at me, fought me, humiliated me, and betrayed me." My eyes fall to the ground in shame. "Yet in the next moment, you are praising me, kissing me, apologizing to me, tempting me, and making me love you more than I ever thought possible.
"I'm a man of my word, America. And I promised you, all those nights ago, that if you ever said those words I'd make you my wife."
My head snaps up to see a soft smile and brown eyes burning with intense love. "Maxon!" I jump out of the chair and throw my arms around his neck. He's hard and warm and his arms are suddenly holding me to him as he spins me around. His laughter follows my own before he sets me back on my feet.
I've barely touched the ground before I pull his mouth to mine. We're smiling too much to actually make use of this position, but it's soon becoming my favorite type. "Maxon, oh, Maxon," I mumble between failed kisses.
"America, my America," he mumbles back.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead on mine.
"What changed?" I whisper, filled with awe. "What changed your mind?"
He gives me a sideways smile, "My mother."
I laugh at the similar answer, running my hands over his chest and shoulders. "I love your mother," I confess.
He hums in reply but is focused on my lips once more. "Can I visit you tonight?"
"As long as we aren't seen, Your Highness. I think our probation period is almost up and I'd hate to have to restart it."
He rolls his eyes. "Fine, we'll go somewhere else. I've been meaning to show you another one of the private rooms. It hasn't been used for a few generations but I had them shine it up a couple months ago."
"If it's anything like the library, I know I'll love it."
He kisses me in agreement. "Now, was you illness this morning due to an actual headache or were you avoiding me?"
I blush.
"Well, either way," Maxon chuckles. "Silvia announced your next challenge this morning. I think they're looking for an elimination after it, so make sure you don't fail."
"Thanks," I say drily.
"Your welcome."
"Any other good advice?"
"If you need help, all you have to do is ask," Maxon says seriously.
I nod, thankful for his offer and remembering a similar one from the queen. He offers me his arm and escorts me back to my rooms. Once we get to the Selection's quarters, he leans down to place a kiss right below my ear. I shiver.
"I'll see you at dinner. Wear something green."
With that he strides away, leaving me watching his back with a broad smile across my face.
"Green?" I call after him, but all I get is a grin thrown back over his shoulder. I stare at him until he turns the corner and then fly into my room. "Anne!" I yell, ready to relay Maxon's strange request.