All rights to Kiera Cass. This book is designed to make story edits that largely follow the original plot. So even in the edited parts it is often largely Cass's writing.

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Author's note: do do do do do, author casually torchering characters :)

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(cass)

CHAPTER 25

"PRIVATE LESSONS?" SILVIA ASKED. "As in, several a week?"

"Absolutely," I replied.

(Edit)

For the first time since I arrived, I was truly grateful for Silvia. I knew that there was no way she'd be able to resist having someone willing to hang on her every word; and if she was making me do extra work, it meant I could keep myself busy. Sure I had the intelligence reports, but those took usually about a half an hour to get through and the meetings were only an hour each, three days a week. Not nearly enough time considering thinking about Maxon and Aspen and the diary and the girls and the king and if I could possibly handle being a princess was too much right now. There was no more entail to get, but at least protocol was black-and-white. The steps for proposing a law were orderly. Orderly things I can master.

Besides learning how to propose laws could only help me if I was ever going to advise on something more than rebel positing. It's a win win.

(Cass)

Silvia looked at me, still slightly stunned, before she broke into a huge smile. Embracing me, she cried out, "Oh, this will be wonderful. Finally one of you understands how important this is!" She held me at arm's length. "When do you want to start?"

"Now?"

She was bursting with delight. "Let me go get some books."

I dove into her studies, so grateful for the words and facts and statistics she crammed into my head. If I wasn't with Silvia, I was reading up on something she'd assigned me as I spent countless hours in the Women's Room, all but tuning out the other girls.

I worked, and I was excited about the next time the five of us had a joint class.

When that time came, Silvia started by asking us what we were passionate about. I scribbled down my family, music, and then, as if the word demanded to be written, justice.

"The reason I ask is because the queen is typically in charge of a committee of some kind, something that benefits the country. Queen Amberly, for example, began a program for training families to take care of their mentally and physically infirmed members. So many get deposited in the streets once the families can no longer deal with them, and the amount of Eights grows to an unmanageable number. The statistics over the last ten years have proven that her program has helped keep the numbers lower, thus keeping the general population safer."

"Are we supposed to come up with a program like that?" Elise asked, sounding nervous.

"Yes, that will be your new project," Silvia said. "On the Capital Report in two weeks' time, you'll be asked to present your idea and propose how you might start it."

Natalie made a little squeak of a sound, and Celeste rolled her eyes. Kriss looked like she was already dreaming something up. Her instant enthusiasm made me nervous.

I remembered Maxon talking about an upcoming elimination. I felt like Kriss and I were at a slight advantage, but still.

"Is this really helpful?" Celeste asked. "I'd rather learn about something we'll actually use."

I could tell that beneath her concerned tone, she was either bored with this idea already or intimidated by it.

Silvia looked appalled. "You will use this! Whoever becomes the new princess will be in charge of a philanthropy project."

Celeste muttered something under her breath and started fiddling with a pen. I hated that she wanted the position with none of the responsibility.

I'd make a better princess than she would, I thought. And in that moment I realized there was some truth to that. I didn't have her connections or Kriss's poise, but at least I cared. And wasn't that worth something?

For the first time in a while, I felt a true shot of enthusiasm course through me. Here was a project that would allow me to show off the one thing that separated me from the others. I was determined to pour myself into this and hopefully produce something that might genuinely make a difference. Maybe I'd still lose in the long run; maybe I wouldn't even want to win. But I would be as close to a princess as I possibly could, and I would make my peace with the Selection.

It was hopeless. Try as I might, I couldn't come up with a single idea for my philanthropy project. I thought and read and thought some more. I asked my maids, but they had no ideas. I would have sought out Aspen, but I hadn't heard from him in days. I guessed he was being extra cautious with the king home.

What was worse was that Kriss was clearly deep into her presentation. She skipped hours of time in the Women's Room to go read; and when she was present, she had her nose in a book or was scribbling notes furiously.

Damn.

When Friday came, I felt like dying as I suddenly realized I only had a week left and no prospects on the horizon. During the Report, Gavril set up the structure for the next show, explaining that there would be a few brief announcements and then the rest of the evening would be dedicated to our presentations.

A light sweat broke out on my forehead.

(edit)

I caught Maxon looking at me. He reached up and tugged his ear. I pulled on my ear immediately. I didn't quite know what I was going to say to him, but he always helped me feel better.

I fidgeted while I waited for him to show up, twiddling the ends of my hair and pacing around my room.

(Cass)

Maxon's knock was brief before he let himself in the way he used to. I stood, feeling I needed to be a bit more formal than usual. I could tell that I was being ridiculous, but I felt completely unable to stop it at the same time.

"How are you?" he asked, crossing the room.

"Honestly? Nervous."

"It's because I'm so good-looking, isn't it?"

I laughed at the sympathetic face he made. "I should avert my eyes," I said, playing along. "Actually, it's mostly about that philanthropy project."

"Oh," he said, sitting at my table. "You could run your presentation by me if you like. Kriss did."

I felt deflated. Of course she was done. "I don't even have an idea yet," I confessed, sitting across from him.

"Ah. Yes, I can see how that would be stressful."

I gave him a look as if to say he had no idea.

"What's important to you? There has to be something that really touches you that the others might miss." Maxon leaned back in the chair comfortably, one hand on the table.

How was he so at ease? Couldn't he see how on edge I was?

"I've been thinking all week, and nothing's come to mind."

He laughed quietly. "I would have thought that you'd have the easiest time. You've seen more hardships in your life than the other four combined."

(Edit)

"Exactly, but I've never known how to change any of it. That's the problem." I stared at the table, remembering Carolina with perfect clarity. "I can see it all … the Sevens who get injured doing their labor-heavy jobs and are suddenly downgraded to Eights because they can't work anymore. The girls who walk the streets on the edge of curfew, wandering into the beds of lonely men for practically anything. The kids who never have enough—enough food, enough heat, enough love—because their parents are working themselves to death. The children born as eights suffering for every moment till they die. I can remember my worst days like they're nothing. But coming up with a feasible way to do anything about it?" I shook my head. "What could I possibly say? What could I possibly do that would be enough?"

I looked at him, hoping there was an answer in his eyes. There wasn't.

"You make an excellent point." Then he was quiet.

I thought over everything I said as well as his response. Did it mean that he knew more about Gregory's plans than I thought? Or did it mean he felt guilty because he had so much when others had so little?

He sighed. "This really wasn't what I was hoping we'd talk about tonight."

"What did you have on your mind?"

Maxon took a deep breath, "Honestly America, I think I just need some reassurance…." He trailed off. I glimpsed into his eyes full of fear and sadness as he turned his head away.

"About what?" I asked, but Maxon didn't respond or look back at me. "Maxon?"

He turned back and I could see tears glistening in his eyes. It was by far the most vulnerable I had seen Maxon. "Sometimes I don't know if I can do it. Run this country."

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to understand, "Weren't you raised for it?"

He took a deep breath trying to calm his emotions. "You were raised to be a musician, but you were always capable of so much more. I'm trapped in my fate. Forced to be the one to decide the lives of thousands by birth right, not skill. And what if I don't have enough."

I had no idea where this was coming from. I grabbed his hands trying to comfort him and the tears started to trickle. He continued. "I mean look at you America you can just find rebels. And Ellits Junespring was born a seven and is a whizz at international relations. And Neter Kindey is unfaced in psychoanalysing people but was raised on a farm. I make every wrong move. I was born a prince but what's to say that means I have any authority in running a country." His words were ridden with an upset passion.

I moved over and hugged him, hoping that if I held him just right I could take his tears away. For all my wondering if I could be a queen, I never stopped to consider if Maxon thought he could be a king. "Maxon where is this coming from." He looked at the ground and suddenly I understood, "Maxon your father isn't some supernatural, all knowing, phenomenal king. Who is he to tell you what kind of king you'll be." Maxon looked at me shocked, and I continued. "That isn't to say he's awful, he does... some things well. But the way he runs Illea isn't the only way, or even the best way. You're kind, compassionate, smart, philanthropic. You don't run the country from a stance of power, you run it out of love for the people who make it up, and that's what will make you an even better king than your father."

Maxon, still crying, hugged me back. "Also you are not alone. You have advisors. And no matter what happens you have me for as long as you want. You're not alone. So if you ever need a reminder of how great a king you'll be I'm right here." I start poking at him playfully, "Your best friend, your partner in crime, we'll get through the good and bad together. No matter what." In my promise I knew I couldn't tell Maxon how I felt about him. It would be so cruel to risk losing this, the one thing that can be truly stable, out of hope that it could be something more. I needed to be his friend.

After a few more seconds of sitting together, comforting each other in silence, a song from an old 2000's classics songbook popped in my head. And I couldn't help feel it fit perfectly so I sang it to him.

"You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

You got troubles, and I got 'em too

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you

We stick together and we see it through

'Cause you've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me"

"What was that?" Maxon asked. His tears slowing.

"You've Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman. It used to be pretty popular a hundred years ago."

"I like it….maybe it could be our song."

I smiled at him, "A song that represents our forever promise."

We stayed there together. Just wanting to be close to each other for….well too long.

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We love guys who are vulnerable with their emotions!

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