"You're stressing over nothing, sweetie." Mom said to my reflection in the mirror.

She'd come in my room this morning, mostly because I've had a fight with Dad the last night after dinner. He was angry with me for not coming up with a good scheme for budget plans. I'd tried to tell him that he rejected almost all my schemes, but he yelled back that because they were all stupid and would put Illéa more in trouble than solve any.

He'd also announced that he was going to ask the advisors' to come up with an alternative plan as mine were all useless. And that whatever the reaction, I was supposed to be in the meeting today.

And I wasn't planning to attend it.

"These things take time. You can't just form a plan everyone approves of."

"Tell this to Dad." I moaned like a toddler. "He didn't like half of the things I came up with."

She laughed and patted my shoulder. "Stop whining, young man, and think from here." She pressed her palm on my chest, over my heart. "The fact that you're trying your best itself tells many things."

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked suddenly. "You became a queen, but your friends and everyone else still live their lives as Four or Five or whatever."

Her answer was almost immediate. "Everyday. That is why I always try to do the right thing. Not only because I am the queen, but also because the fate was kind on me, but not on others. But that doesn't mean I can stop. That shouldn't stop them from pursuing their happiness."

"And what when Dad rejects your plans?"

"Then I try my best to make him understand." I almost rolled my eyes. Sometimes I felt my Mom was too good for my Dad. Too gentle for his harsh ways.

But I also understood why he adores her. Why she worshipped him.

Love did great wonders on everyone.

Only I wasn't sure if it had some plan for me, too.

"I know you think your father is always strict on you," she murmured, coming in front of me and tied my tie, a task she took upon herself for Dad and me, "but you should know he loves you so dearly. He wants you to be ready by the time he'd set his burden on your shoulders. And that will come soon. You'll find the one, your one, very soon. He's just preparing all of us for that day."

"It doesn't feel that way."

She smiled and kissed my head. "Get ready, prince. Because I know you're going to make your father proud."

This time I smiled too.

Mom was too good for me, too.

"I don't know what I would've done without you." I murmured, hugging her tightly. A tight embrace with her made everything right for me, bring everything in perspective.

I felt her wrap her arms around me. "Then it's a great thing you'll never find it out. Because I'm not planning on leaving my dumpling anytime soon."

"Mom! Stop calling me names!"

"As you wish, my Royal Handsomeness!"

"Uhh! You are worse!"

"And I love you."

This time I did roll my eyes and kissed her forehead. "I love you more."

She leaned back, a mischievous smile lifting her lips, making her look more young. "So, tell me. Do you have any favourite yet?"

I blushed, but didn't answer, instead disarrayed my hair. Again.

I didn't get to see the end of it because mom teased and bugged me for the better part of the morning.

And it was enough.

.

.

.

It was almost the meeting time and I was still contemplating whether to go or not when a maid brought a cup of tea for me. She curtsied and left, but after mentioning that "Lady America gave me a letter for you. It seemed a little urgent."

I thanked her and read the letter. It wasn't actually one. It was just a torn piece of note, but on it was written in her messy writing,

Your Majesty—

Tugging my ear. Whenever.

She never tugged her ear, but today...And the maid said it was urgent. If she could, she might've wrote the exact words, but it seemed personal. Nobody could intercept the words. The phrasing. But what if she was in trouble. What if...

Her family might be in trouble. Or maybe someone tried to hurt her. I knew word would get out. Jenelle might not have been indiscreet for why she was eliminated. Maybe she'd successfully caused trouble for America before leaving...

I didn't drink my tea. Instead I bolted out the comfort of my room to the second floor.

Her room was empty except for her maids. And they all looked surprised to see me here. I asked them where America was, but they all didn't know. There best guess was she may still be in women's room.

If this was right, I could create more trouble for her by calling out or reaching her. But could I stop? The answer was simple: No.

Things with her weren't simple. They are always complicated, but with her, even the complicated things seemed simple enough. Whether it was her daring to kick me, or her atrocity to yell at me, we still managed to keep things at bay. Simple.

And if she'd made an effort to reach me...

Before I could make my way to the women's room on the first floor, I found a bunch of red hair catch the afternoon light in the hallway. In the golden and copper of the hallway, she shone out in every way. With her hair as well as her almost white dress.

She was walking by the wall, her hand trying to touch the paintings but she stopped herself everytime. As if even the lightest touch would spoil them. I knew she belonged to artists' family, but I'd failed to wonder how good she could take these artefacts in, value them.

With the other Selected, they roamed in the palace like they nearly owned it, behaved as it was theirs. But not with her.

She still behaved like a guest, an intruder when she was supposed to live the fullest in here.

I stopped for a minute, but it was enough to make a thought clear in my mind: I cared for her. I liked her. Not merely as my friend, but more than that.

I'd foolishly thought some other girl had set a standard for me, when it clearly was this wondrous lady who'd done that without even trying to put an effort.

When she shook her head, I suddenly remembered what I had come here for.

"America!" It was an effort to keep my voice down, and even more to not dash to her.

I grabbed her wrists when I reached her, checking to make sure she was alright. No tear strained cheeks, no sight of marks. She almost stood stunned, and I finally relaxed.

But... "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She replied, like I was acting strange. "I'm fine."

I exhaled, not realising I'd held my breath. "Thank goodness. When I got your note, I thought you were sick or something happened to your family."

Now I felt foolish.

"Oh! Oh, no. Maxon, I'm so sorry. I knew that was a stupid idea. I just didn't know if you'd be at dinner, and I wanted to see you."

That didn't appear as the right excuse. "Well, what for?" I pressed.

"Just to see you."

I stopped, my heart pounding once again.

Never for once the girls' have wanted to see me, Maxon. Just the prince.

Never has she tried to catch my eye, meet me out of the blue.

And I liked it. To come to her when it wasn't dark. When people could still see me with her...

"You just wanted to see me?" I even liked the words on my mouth, I admitted.

"Don't be so shocked. Friends usually spend time together." She waved it off, and her offhand tone added the of course.

Of course. She doesn't feel anything for me. For her, I was just another man. Just Maxon. Her friend.

Then why...

"Ah, you're cross with me because I've been engaged all week, aren't you?" I almost laughed because I, too, felt the same way. "I didn't mean to neglect our friendship, America."

Maybe I shouldn't have made myself vulnerable in front of her.

"No, I'm not mad. I was just explaining myself. You look busy. Go back to work, and I'll see you when you're free."

"Actually, do you mind if I stay a few minutes? They're having a budget meeting upstairs, and I detest those things." With me still holding her wrists, I pulled her to the nearest couch at the end of the hallway, beneath a window.

She giggled as she sat, our hands still together.

"What's so funny?"

Her smile even failed the summer light. "Just you. It's cute to see that your job bugs you." She thought I was cute. Not handsome or any such thing. Cute. "What's so bad about the meetings, anyway?" she asked, settling further in the couch.

"Oh, America! They go round and round in circles. Father does a good job at calming the advisers, but it's so hard to push the committees in any given direction." Especially when everyone wanted a voting and the decision was always delayed as there were always equal votes. "Mom is always on Father to give more to the school systems—she thinks the more educated you are, the less likely you are to be a criminal, and I agree—but Father is never forceful enough to get them to take away from other areas that could manage perfectly with lower funds. It's infuriating! And it's not like I'm in command, so my opinion is easily overlooked." Only if Dad could listen me, take me seriously. Take my opinions seriously.

I rested my head on my hands, which rested in the elbows. I was beyond exhausted. But hiding here didn't seem like a nice idea. Neither did attending the God awful meeting.

I felt her hand rub my back, over all the scars I've tried to hide. But for the moment they didn't feel like a failure. But more of a part of my struggle.

But still, my eyes refused to gaze in hers. Instead they found the lush carpet fascinating.

"I'm sorry. On the plus side, you'll have more of a say in the future."

I hardly think so. "I know. I tell myself that. But it's so frustrating when we could change things now if they'd only listen."

"Well, don't be too discouraged. Your mom is on the right path, but education alone won't fix anything." She mumbled the last part.

I whipped my head up. "What do you mean?"

It's one of those ideas I've worked the most on, dedicated so much. How could she accuse it?

"Well, compared to the fancy-pants tutors someone like you has, the education system for Sixes and Sevens is terrible. I think getting better teachers or better facilities would do them a world of good. But then what about the Eights? Isn't that caste responsible for most of the crimes? They don't get any education. I think if they felt they had something, anything at all, it might encourage them."

"Besides..." She was silent for a moment. "Have you ever been hungry, Maxon? Not just ready for dinner, but starving? If there was absolutely no food here, nothing for your mother or father, and you knew that if you just took something from people who had more in a day than you'd have in your whole life, you could eat...what would you do? If they were counting on you, what wouldn't you do for someone you loved?"

My throat felt so tight I could hardly swallow.

She was right. Education wasn't the only solution. But stealing because you were hungry... murdering people for your loved ones...

It was such a controversial debate, and especially between those who had the wide gap of caste difference between them. It was too tangible, if argued wrongly, it'll ruin our friendship, too.

"America, I'm not saying that some people don't have it hard, but stealing is—"

"Close your eyes, Maxon."

"What?"

"Close your eyes."

What is she up to? I frowned, but obliged her. She was silent for a moment, and then I felt the softness of her voice breaking through the darkness. "Somewhere in this palace, there is a woman who will be your wife."

I smiled. I hoped it to be true. To find my love here. Not just a wife and a queen, but someone with whom I wanted to spend my life. Not had to or needed to.

"Maybe you don't know which face it is yet, but think of the girls in that room. Imagine the one who loves you the most. Imagine your 'dear.'"

I didn't know it was because she was narrating it or because I didn't know anyone as much as her, I just saw her face. Even when I tried to think about another, her face remained in front of my closed lids.

My hand twitched, trying to keep all the emotions at bay, but my fingers found her...grazed hers, like a whisper, softly. But soon enough, they were lost.

I opened my eyes to grasp them again, but saw her clutching her hand in her lap.

"Sorry."

"Keep 'em closed!"

I chuckled but obliged again. "This girl?" she spoke again. "Imagine that she depends on you. She needs you to cherish her and make her feel like the Selection didn't even happen. Like if you were dropped on your own out in the middle of the country to wander around door to door, she's still the one you would have found. She was always the one you would have picked."

I couldn't imagine that life, but still wondered what it'd been like. Seeing someone and then realising she is meant for me. Like two magnets. Always together.

I liked that version. Where I was a normal man, looking for her ideal girl in the ideal way. No forces, no extremes, no one to force me...

"She needs you to provide for her and protect her." She murmured, clearing another picture for me.

I would've been a photographer, stayed in a small two storey house. Maybe as a Five. And she would've been a Five, too. An artist...

Just like her...

"And if it came to a point where there was absolutely nothing to eat," I thought about her the night we actually met. The way she was distraught "and you couldn't even fall asleep at night because the sound of her stomach growling kept you awake—"

"Stop it!"

No! I couldn't imagine it. Not in a hundred years.

I paced in the narrow passage, trying to keep the image that'd started to settle away.

No. I couldn't be near her for now.

"Sorry." She whispered. I didn't look at her even though I nodded. The image had settled so peacefully that it was difficult to get it out.

When I felt I was in better control, I finally glanced at her. She was wringing her hands. Hands that had tried to fulfil her family's basic desires.

She literally meant she was staying for the money. Why wouldn't she? If by staying in a palace her family could earn more than they could on their own, anyone would.

"Is it really like that?"

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Out there … does that happen? Are people hungry like that a lot?"

"Maxon, I—"

"Tell me the truth." I wanted to know, needed to know, about the world that existed beyond the safe walls of the palace.

"Yes. That happens. I know of families where people give up their share for their children or siblings. I know of a boy who was whipped in the town square for stealing food." She shook her head. "Sometimes you do crazy things when you're desperate."

Whipped? What could've he stolen but a bread?

"A boy? How old?"

"Nine."

This small? I could feel the scars again digging on my back.

And the lame excuse on my shoulders that I felt proud. How could I? That boy had stolen for food, and I on the other hand...

And he was Six. If they were treated this badly, then what about Seven. What about the lowest of the low? The Eights?

No wonder we were attacked by two caste sympathisers. They all wanted just one thing: removal of the castes.

Well, the northerners did, anyway.

But it was about Sixes and Sevens. What about Fives? Did they fare any better?

I knew with my education that the no one looked twice at Eights. The Sevens were considered as trash, and they'd to work on the streets to make money. The Sixes worked in different places, getting all the work they could to feed their family. Fives at least got to do their work with dignity. Art: Painting and singing and dancing and making sculptures. There were a few Five who made a fortune, and there were few who had no more than Sevens.

Where did America come from? How did she fare?

"Have you"—I cleared his throat; it felt stupid asking this after knowing her for a long time—"have you ever been like that? Starving?"

She ducked her face, not willing to answer. Or not willing to remember...

That was the only answer I needed.

She had. Not once, but almost every time.

I recalled what she'd told me the first time. My plan is to enjoy the food until you kick me out. She wasn't exasperating. She truly meant it.

"How bad?"

"Maxon, it will only upset you more."

"Probably. But I'm only starting to realize how much I don't know about my own country." She almost shook her head. Please."

She sighed. "We've been pretty bad. Most times if it gets to where we have to choose, we keep the food and lose electricity."

How was it fair? To choose between two of the basic things.

"The worst was when it happened near Christmas one year. It was very cold, so we were all wearing tons of clothes and watching our breath inside the house."

Freezing? On the day when everything was supposed to be cheery.

"May didn't understand why we couldn't exchange gifts. As a general rule, there are never any leftovers at my house. Someone always wants more."

I recalled all the winters I'd spend with my parents, with a heater even when it wasn't that cold here. And the extravagant gifts, the food that ended up being thrown away because there was always extra...

"I know the checks we've gotten over the last few weeks have really helped, and my family is very smart about money. I'm sure they've already tucked it away so it'll stretch out for a long time. You've done so much for us, Maxon."

She tried to smile, but her cheeks were pale. And I could see how she'd lived all those years.

"Good God. When you said you were only here for the food, you weren't kidding, were you?" I shook my head at finding her amusing the first day. She was just being honest then.

"Think from here." I heard Mom's voice in my head, felt her hand pressed over my heart.

I knew what I had to do.

I couldn't undo what she had gone through, what the lower castes had gone through, but I could stop it from happening again. Make sure they are completely fed, and don't have to choose anymore.

All the problems were linked, I knew that. But I didn't have the faintest idea that the solution was so easy. And just as hard and complicated.

The castes were to be removed. But it can't be done outright. First the small steps. Making space for the Eights. Giving them an opportunity. To give them all the necessities.

I knew now how could I do it. The whole part was in front of me. I just had to decide the necessary steps te reach the first milestone.

"Really, Maxon, we've been doing pretty well lately. I—"

She didn't finish it. I stopped her by a kiss. On her forehead. The softest graze of my lips on her sun-kissed skin.

My first kiss. All the more intimate than how I'd imagine it.

"I'll see you at dinner."

When I'd come by her, I was clueless. But now I had a purpose.

Of becoming the king Illéa needed.

As I walked, I straightened my tie, rolled my sleeves down and went in my room to fetch me my coat.

I checked my watch. It was nearly a quarter past eleven, but still not long enough to not entering the meeting.

When I opened the door to the meeting room, every head looked up to see the interruption, followed by their curtsy as they welcomed me in. Some looked furious to interrupt them, some smiled at me. Father was fuming silently in his chair at my delay.

"Finally the prince decided to appear!" He said, and I felt the fury burning in him.

"Your Majesty, we thought you'd not come." Said one of the advisors'.

"I'm sorry, but I got caught up in my project."

"What project, sir?" The budget master, Mr. Quill asked.

"Being the prince I've decided a few things regarding the country." I announced, going to the white screen at the opposite side of the room. I could see everyone clearly from here, and felt everyone's attention on me. Even Father's. I never used my position of prince in front of him during these matters. "I know it's sort of impromptu, but it is necessary you all be open minded and agree with me. Not a demand, but a request."

I heard someone scoff, not surprised to see it was Dad.

"We've been trying to tackle the issue of rebels since so many years, but every time we come to a dead end. Because we don't know what they're after." There were many heads nodding. "But what if they all wanted one thing: for Illéa to prosper. To get it rid of the difficulties faced by the least fortunate once. The Sevens. The Eights."

"We've tried out best to uplift them, but everytime we lack, it is because they can't get the basic necessities fulfilled. Food, shelter. It has recently reached in my notice how hard they all fare, when they're the people who do the maximum work."

"So? Do you think of removing the whole caste system?" Father asked, leaning back on his chair, already annoyed.

"No. We can't just do that. Yet." I emphasised. "People out there have learned to live with what they have. They've learned to choose food over electricity, stealing over getting whipped. We can't force them to changes. But we can fulfil their basic needs. Food, for instance."

"We all know how unequally the finance is distributed among the castes. The Twos have the most. But on the other hand, the Eights." I shook my head. "For starters, what if we allot a particular sum designated to fulfil just these needs of the lower castes. Not only it'll boost their morale, but if I'm right and the rebels are working for the removal of castes, they'll keep shut for the time being seeing our efforts."

"And what then?" Mr. Quill asked.

"We're talking about disrupting the whole of the country, Mr. Quill, by starting on the small magnitude. Let's see how the public reacts to them and then we'll work ahead. Figure things out as we go."

"Mr. West? How much are the ladies being compensated for staying in the competition?" I asked the Master of Events. The sum he told me was enough to get why America seemed pleased to stay far away from her family. "Are all the candidates being granted the same?"

"Yes." He said with pride.

"And Mr. Livingstone, how much part of taxes are focused on the welfare of lower castes?" The sum he told me wasn't too promising, but all the same good for a new start.

"What if we take the compensation of the natural Twos and Threes in the competition and invest in this scheme as well. Not only the Selection will gain attention for its humble act, but also the whole country will rejoice in learning their king is willing to do good to them. And also put a good fraction of the welfare fund in the project. We have a starting amount, a clear idea. That ought to do."

"You have given us a method, Maxon," father said, "but how do you suggest we do it?"

"From the top of my head, we start a few projects just for the Eights, and give them a good minimum pay including their rightful income."

"Monetary issues were never the starting problem, Your Majesty." Mr. Stavros reminded me.

"Yes. I'm quite aware of that, but we'll be taking steps as we progress. Even the whole project is not refined in my mind. There are a few loopholes, but we can get a good start."

"We can open a counter dedicated just for food for those who need in the Province Services Office." Mr. Needle, the master of public relations, suggested.

I nodded, glad to see the advisors' were taking me seriously. "Nice idea, Mr. Needle. Thank you." I addressed the room again. "Ifhe motion successes, which it will, then we can dedicate a few more counters just for the solitary purpose. Not much resources needed. It'll need low budget and serve as a big problem solver."

"And who do you think will support us?" Mr. Cube asked.

"The one who have resources to help. Farmers who sell their extra crops for export can dedicate a little for the purpose." I suggested, thinking as fast as I could to tackle their questions. "The Professors who are willing can teach the children, the Twos can give us finance or donate for the cause. Our ally, France, had always suggested it'll hell us if we need any for the upliftment of our country. We can get resources this way by showing them we're willing to overcome this particular prospect "

There was quite a murmur in the room. Some were agreeing to it, others were complementing it. There were also some who downright refused to be a part of it. But what stunned me was father's nod.

"I knew you'd make a good king if I pushed you a little." He smiled. Smiled. "All right, everybody. I see the prince has thought about a solution. And a good one." I held my head up with pride. "So let's do this. Those who are in favour?"

Here I got nervous. The voting.

There was a little hesitancy, then a hand lifted up. Followed by another. Then another one.

I counted along with Dad. There were more than ten hands lifted.

More than half.

I've gained majority!

I felt like skipping. Dancing all over the room.

"Ah! Looks like the future king finally got a majority in his first hearing." Everybody chuckled at the joke. "Okay, Maxon. You get the green light. And since it's your idea, I give you the permission to work on it. We'll require a final layout of the whole plan by tomorrow meeting, and it'll be announced in tomorrow's Report. Any queries?"

I shook my head.

He smiled. Again. "The meeting is adjourned."

When the whole room was empty save for Dad and I, he patted my shoulder with his hand. For once his hand didn't hold me tight. "I'm impressed, Maxon. That was quite a scheme."

"Thank you, sir."

"But," his hand tightened. "remember the next time to run in first by me."

His smile was lethal this time.

I swallowed the fear I felt and tried to stand straight.

He patted me once. "I hope you don't disappoint me in the meeting and at the Report the next time."

"You needn't worry, sir."

This time I didn't swallow. Instead, stood straighter than ever. Pride making my back flex with all the scars I've endured.