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-See you at the bottom.-


Chapter 12

"Meet me in the art gallery at four thirty today. We need to talk."

~M~

Marlee's news shocked me as much as the argument Maxon had had with the King and our treasonous conversation after it. "It wasn't him." She said softly, looking at a particular painting with a signature on it that I didn't recognise.

"What?" I was jumpy, we both were, Marlee was keeping her voice low and was looking over her shoulder every few moments.

"Kriss' fiancé. He didn't do it."

"Oh and you'd know?" I said to her sarcastically. She'd dragged me around the art gallery for almost ten minutes before she had spoken and it had taken her another thirty minutes to bring this up. I was being rude but she was being ridiculous, I was grievously tired and I'd promised Maxon that I'd help him do some research for our new project.

"Yes," she said simply ignoring my annoyance.

"Marlee."

"Carter has been working in the security department lately, helping with organising things in the higher up-. Stuff I don't really understand or want to…" She trailed off distracted by a sound only she could hear. "But he was shocked when Maxon had him pulled into the palace, they were… they knew where he was. He didn't hurt Kriss."

"He did hurt Kriss." I said to the painting we were now looking at.

"He wasn't within a hundred miles of Kriss! He didn't murder her and dump her body because he couldn't." She sighed.

"How do you know that? I asked fuelled with frustration.

"I just do. Okay? Trust me!" Marlee started walking away from me.

"Marlee!" I called after her but she kept walking.

Instead of running after her I gazed back at the painting we were supposed looking at. I didn't recognise the signature on this one but that date was clear. I did the math quickly in my head 120 years ago. The artist had created this masterpiece 120 year ago. I wondered if they knew that this piece was a mater piece and that it would last over a hundred years.

At first these meetings had been exciting, I finally got to see some of the work Maxon and Clarkson did. How they came up with ideas and how they implemented them. They were always busy and filled with murmuring people. Message came and went all buzzing through the King's assistant and only some made it to the King.

Amberly wasn't at this one so that left me as the only woman in the room. I was outnumbered by fifteen to one. The men were sitting or standing as they talked over one another about the work that still needed to be done in Belcourt before people could begin to rebuild their homes. Maxon was asking about the rebels and what had been done with the ones that the army had managed to find. Sitting on the table were some statistics on the town without disturbing anyone I grabbed them and gave them a quick read over.

The village's population consisted mostly of sevens and sixes, the next town over was just under an hours walk so although work was available it wasn't easy labour. There were more fours than fives but the village had only had a population of about 350 so even their numbers were down. The village had only one family of threes the father was the local doctor and the mother the teacher at the local school, their children were adults and had since moved to bigger towns. There were no two's.

A total of 126 people had died their ages ranging from children to the elderly. The family of three's had perished. The entire village had been devastated with only a few houses on one side of the town remaining. The only building other than houses to survive was the school building those who couldn't find places to stay for the time being were living there.

"What's been done for the people?" I asked ignoring the fact that the men had moved onto a different subject.

"What people?" Clarkson asked barely containing in annoyance.

"The people in Belcourt. The ones without homes, what's been done with them?" I answered mildly. Maxon glanced from his father to me.

"Those who could have found shelter in the homes of others, the rest I believe are living in one of the public buildings that remained."

"Yes the school, but have we sent aid?"

"Officers and medical personnel have been sent as a unit yes. Princess is this going anywhere?"

"What will happen to their homes? Most do not appear to have insurance on them or they rented their rooms." I commented refusing to back down from my point despite the silence in the room. Clarkson glared at me furiously. "Will the crown be able to support those who cannot afford to rebuild their own homes?" I asked trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"If they did not have basic insurance on their homes I see no reason as to why we should be there to make up for their mistakes." Clarkson stated.

"These people are poor and the laws you uphold keep them poor, they should be safe in their homes and not have to worry about them being burnt to the ground. We should be able to keep them safe and stop these attacks. They're meant for us, the rebels are sending us a warning using these poor people as an example to what is next to come, the least we can do is offer even a little financial support." I drew in a breath looking away from the King to his son who had his head tilted to this side, the way he usually would when he was thinking about something to do with his work.

"Princess," Clarkson said addressing me and silencing the murmurs that had fluttered across the room "this matter is not what we are discussing now, if you wish for us to investigate write it up and give me some numbers if it looks promising then we may find time during one of the meetings next week to seriously think about it."

I looked at Maxon he just shrugged, that was the best I could hope for. A possible meeting schedule. I sat back in my chair and quietly studied the room half expecting for Clarkson to politely ask me to leave. "Now," Clarkson boomed grabbing a handful of papers off one of the clerks while shooting me a quick angry look. "In other matters the…"

I tuned out, I didn't know much about Illea's army and I most certainly didn't have anything useful to contribute. Slowly as to not draw attention Maxon walked towards me and sat in the empty chair next to me. His eyes were looking at his father but not watching him I wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe he was just as bored as I was.

A wailing alarm though quickly brought everyone into the room to full attention, Maxon almost leapt from his chair to his feet. I hadn't heard that alarm in a while now but I knew what it meant. North or South? North or South?

The grey limbo of the safe room was oppressive it drained every remotely positive thought from you. It also robbed you of the essence of time. The only thing you could do was sit quietly and wait. And being quiet meant no talking and that meant you were left alone with your thoughts, at situations like these those thoughts could be devastating.

Mom, Dad, May, Gerad, Amberly and Marlee were all here, all of them doing almost the same thing as me, thinking. I kept hearing the sounds that had echoed through the hall as we ran to our hiding place. The popping of the bullets, the loud orders of the guards as the yelled to one another, the slamming of doors and screeching of metal shutters, the fireworks of shattering glass. Together they made a beautiful deadly orchestra.

North or South? North or South?


I hope I'm keeping the suspense up and I promise a heap more is yet to come, more Maxerica, more about Kriss, more about the tour and more about the rebels. STAY TUNED PEOPLE! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

Anyway thankyou for lasting through the chapter if you did and if you didn't um okay thanks you reading my notes.

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