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 1: Firstly this is 27B so make sure you have read 27A with the events leading right up to the report. This is all one chapter, but it was so long I felt more comfortable posting it as 2.

Author's note 2: This chapter gets really really intense. I do promise the intensity of this isn't unnecessary, this chapter does set up a LOT of book three, but it is probably not what you expect going into it. This chapter also serves as a pivot point in the book where not only a lot of events spring off of it, but is where the plot lines start to get even further from the original book. All that being said this is a hard chapter to skip and still follow the story so I hope you still enjoy it even with the intensity.

Warnings: Alludes to r*pe and ab*se of children, mentions of ch*ld d*aths/m*rder, gr*phic dep*ctions of d*ath and bl**d.

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(cass)

CHAPTER 27 B

"Good evening, Illéa. Tonight I come to you not as one of the Elite, not as a Three or a Five, but as a citizen, an equal. Based on your caste, your experience of our country is shaded a very specific way. I can say that for certain myself. But it wasn't until recently that I understood how deep my love for Illéa went.

"Despite growing up sometimes without food or electricity, despite watching people I love forced into the stations we are assigned at birth with little hope for change, despite seeing the gaps between myself and others because of this number even though we aren't very different"—I looked over to the girls—"I find myself in love with our country."

I switched the card automatically, knowing the break. "What I propose wouldn't be simple. It might even be painful, but I genuinely believe it would benefit our entire kingdom." I inhaled. "I propose we should eliminate the castes."

I heard more than one gasp. I chose to ignore them.

"I know there was a time, when our country was new, when the assignment of these numbers helped organize something that was on the brink of not existing. But we are no longer that country. We are so much more now. To allow the talentless to have exalted privileges and suppress what could be the greatest minds in the world for the sake of an archaic organization system is cruel, and it only stops us from becoming the best we can be."

I noted a poll from one of Celeste's discarded magazines after we talked about having a volunteer army, and sixty-five percent of the people thought it was a good idea. Why eliminate that career path completely for people? I also cited an old report we had studied about the standardized testing in the public schools. The article was slanted, stating that only three percent of Sixes and Sevens tested to elevated levels of intelligence; and since it was so low, it was clear they were intended to stay where they were. My argument was that we ought to be ashamed that those people are stuck digging ditches when they could be performing heart surgeries.

Finally the daunting task was nearly over. "Perhaps our country is flawed, but we cannot deny its strength. My fear is that, without change, that strength will become stagnate. And I love our country too much to let that happen. I hope too much to let that happen."

I swallowed, grateful that at least it was over now. "Thank you for your time," I finished, turning slightly toward the royal family.

It was bad. Maxon's face was stony again, like the way he'd looked when Marlee was caned. The queen averted her eyes, looking disappointed. The king, however, stared me down.

(edit mentions of r*pe and m*rder/d*eth of childern)

Without so much as a blink, he focused in on me. "And how do you suggest we eliminate the castes?" he challenged. "Just suddenly take them all away?"

"No. First of all the idea was largely symbolic, since I do not believe the royal family would attempt to remove the casts. However, suggesting so represents the greater systemic and cultural changes that would have to happen to make a real difference."

"And you don't think that would cause riots? Complete mayhem? Allow for rebels to take advantage of public confusion?"

"No. What does cause mayhem is the conditions people are currently facing. What does add to the rebel ranks is their promise of a better life that the government will never give them. If we did decide to remove the castes it would be gradual. I imagine it would start by removing the restraints on careers. Most people would stay within their cast because that's what they know, but over time people would branch out more. After some time the labels would become obsolete. However, I do deeply believe we should at least get rid of the Eight caste completely."

I looked over and saw the cameras weren't blinking red anymore. I was off camera.

"Eights." The king snapped.

"Those who steal only do so because they're not allowed to work. They all suffer their whole lives until they die. They are systematically withheld from contributing to society or making a life for themselves. Eights benefit no one like that, and if they were sevens at least they could have a slightly better life." I explained.

"You want to help criminals get better lives." He bellowed.

"They're not all criminals. Not even mostly. The Eight caste is mostly children who were born out of wedlock. Most of those born from rape victums. Have you seen it? The children alone starving in the streets. Abandoned because the mothers are either dead or couldn't bear to look at what made them lose everything. Because I have. I have and it's not a pretty sight."

The royal family was silent, but their eyes were wider now. I was in between bolting or telling them. But I'm not on camera any more and I figure if I'm gone...at least someone might remember. Might have a way to help them.

I spoke again, "I have been friends with eights since I was a young child, maybe four. My parents couldn't afford a babysitter so when everyone else in my family was performing I would go play in the streets. There was one eight who we called Ms. Megan. She was so kind and would tell me and the other kids stories. We would bring her some food when we could, but she would tell us she really needed clean water because most of the eights died of dysentery.

"When I was seven I decided to do something about it. I went to the library pooled over information and was able to develop a simple technique that made the water safer. You take three cans, two regular and one with holes in the bottom. You first go as upstream as you can, and then use the can with small holes to filter out the water into one of the normal cans. Next you string a piece of cloth between the two normal cans, placing the can with water higher, and the water would flow between them, the cloth helping to filter it.

"I remember not having money for petri dishes, so took small pieces of bread and sprinkled the waters on it. I was so excited when the filtered water had a lot less bacteria grow on it. I went throughout my town showing the Eights how to do this. By word of mouth the Eight's spread this system through my province. That year the deaths due to dysentery went down by 90%, but deaths as a whole rose 2%. They just starved to death instead. My work… it didn't matter anyway."

The king scoffed at me, "You expect us to believe a seven year old girl all but cured dysentery in her province."

"That's my point." I shot back. "It wasn't hard. Just no one was trying. Because no one cared."

I took a deep breath before continuing. "Ms. Megan was one of the ones that starved to death. I hadn't seen her in a while so I went looking for her. I found her lifeless, next to the river. I ran over to her, but she had clearly been dead for days. I couldn't just leave her there so I started to drag her body. Soon another Eight, a twelve year old boy named Heffy came. Together we spent half the day dragging her body up to a cliff overlooking the river. And I dug my first grave. I put her in it and I decided I would try to help keep others from starving.

"I tried to give Heffy the bread I had originally brought for Ms. Megan, but he said he didn't want it. He said he helped because hoped that when he died someone would move his body, so he wouldn't just be one of many bodies people step over as an inconvenience. I asked Heffy how he had lived so long. For an eight born, twelve is really old. He told me he learned what wild berries were edible and that birthed the idea.

"We decided to start a garden outside of the town. Since there were so many starving mouths it would have to just be for eights ten and under. We rallied up some of the kids and got them to help us. We scavenged dumpsters and trash cans looking for seeds. Turned the ground over without bare hands. Carried water from the river in cans. And it worked. We had a garden.

"That first year there were just six kids under ten. It was so nice to see them eat some, but it was still so little it was equivalent to one meal at the castle every other day. I would try to give them food when I could, but I had little too. When it started to turn cold we were able to find some wood in okay condition and build a shed to spend the winter in. By the first freeze the garden was gone, but Heffy showed them what berries they could eat. He however was barely eating. I would bring Heffy food and tell him he was no good to them if he died of starvation, but he couldn't do it. For the first time in his life he had something to care about besides living to the next day, but that killed him.

"After the first snow of that year, I ran to the shed to make sure they were all okay. We were only able to get one blanket which the six kids were rolled up in. Heffy, weak from years of starvation plus it being even worse as of recent, wasn't okay. He was dead. But I wouldn't leave his body there. I wouldn't let him be one of the many who are just stepped over. So through the snow we trudged his body up the cliff, dug him a hole, and he was the second body I buried.

"Another would die that winter, but I was determined to keep Heffy's dream alive. I invited young eight's who were all on their own to help. We expanded the garden and our ranks grew. But most winters we would lose people, people I considered my family. Not a single one of the kids had committed a crime besides being born. Not one. I would smuggle the three smallest into my room during the bad storms. My parents never knew I did, but it was the best I could do. It still wasn't enough. Every time one would die, we would bury them on the hill and promise to try and do better for the next kid. But there was always another one that would die."

I took another deep breath before continuing. I had never told anyone this and now it was just all coming out. "As the kids would age out they would still come around to help, but they wouldn't take any of the food. They knew there wasn't enough. Some would disappear forever, maybe dead, but most would come back every once and awhile. They would bring some money they got, money they really couldn't go without, but that they would rather the young kids have. Some would stick around and raise the kids." I had taught the original ones how to read and that legacy had continued on. Them teaching each other. They would often run through the forest making stories and songs, and those moments were the most precious. If nothing else we had built a community, and there wasn't much else.

"When Jemmey Ledger, the six who I saw beaten to death in the town square, died because he was hungry and desperate," I saw Maxon put two and two together for the first time. He realized it was Aspen's brother, and for a split second I saw his stone face fall and heart break for me. "I realized that nothing I could do could be close to enough. He was a six, two castes higher than the eights and still nearly starving to death. But I buried him on that same cliff and promised to keep fighting. It wasn't just a pledge to physically learn how to fight, it was a promise to fight the injustice I saw. To fight for the people of this country.

"But no garden, or martial arts, or method to stop dissitary would ever be enough. Not just from me but from anyone." I bit back for the hardest memory, "A couple years ago one of the younger girls came to me worried. She told me a boy, Nedge, who had recently aged out had taken a bad deal. A family of twos told him that if he climbed into their broken water system and plugged it in they would give him fifty dollars and a meal. She told me he wanted to use the money to buy blankets and garden tools. We were always short on blankets. But he hadn't been back in a few days. She had just heard the Twos who hired him talking, saying they tricked an eight into turning on their filtration system. She said the Twos laughed as they declared there was no way he would survive, that they knew he would be ripped to shreds and thrown out as soon as the filtration system started. She said they complained about how gross it was to have his blood all over their 'perfectly maintained lawn', and how really they should have charged him for the mess. I was appalled. Beyond appalled I was furious. What made it worse is that they could brag about killing him and because he was and eight no one cares. If you kill and Eight it isn't murder, but if you protect your self from someone of an upper caste it's a jailable offesence.

"I got one of the older boys and knocked on the Twos' door. I knew who they were, I had performed for them before, but they didn't recognize me. 'I want the $50'. I said to them. 'The $50 you promised the eight you killed.'

"The echoes of their laughs as they told me he was just a dumb eight and that only his stupity had killed him, haunts me. Despite the fact that they had lied to him and played on his desperation, they truly just brushed away that his life had any value. They gave me the money to get me to leave though. What was $50 to a Two. They had already disposed of his body, but when I walked around the side of house, they had missed his shoes. Usually we would pass down any clothing, but this time it was all we had left of him. So we buried his shoes and used the money to buy blankets. His sacrifice wasn't useless, no one else died that winter, but it wasn't a sacrifice he should have to make. I can't protect them from society's disdain."

"When I left for the selection I had been running the garden for nine years and there were fourteen bodies I had buried on that cliff. Every single one of them was dead because a number somehow made them less. Made it okay for the world to fail them. I wake up every day scared I'll get a letter from my little sister, the only one in my family who knows about them, saying someone else died. It's getting cold now. Someone always dies when it gets cold.

"When I left our group had grown to twenty three kids under the age of ten and more than forty who had moved through or died. We have an army of people trying to protect those kids and we still can't. Because the issue is that eights can't work. The issue is the country sees them as a number not people. The issue is that they never had a prayer." I finally stopped the crack in my voice keeping me from going on.

The king spoke up. His words like ventum in my wounds never healed. "That is quite the sob story Lady America, but this...demonstration will not bring back the ones who died. And all eights are criminals whether they are in your eyes or not."

He wanted that to be the end but it wasn't going to be. As the anger rose in me I found the ability to go on. "What was the crime of Abigail? A two year old girl I found shivering in the arms of her dead mother. Or Nenji? An eight year old we rescued who had been serving as a punching bag for threes his whole life. But never once hit back because he knew if he did so he'd be killed. Or Lyla? A ten year old, born an eight, who we met when she was on the run from those who had kidnapped her when she was three and abused her to their liking for five years. Or Meght? An infant less than a year old we found abandoned in the park and raised ourselves. Or Noehe? A three year old so weak we thought was dead when we found him. Tell me what were their crimes? Why punish these innocent children? Why force them to have a life full of suffering only to experience some of the most agansing deaths imaginable? They aren't all dead yet. Abigail, Nenji, Lyla, Meght, Noehe, are all still alive. That was why I said this. Because I've spent years trying to make the world less broken for them, only to know it wouldn't be enough. It can't be enough as long as society sees their life as worthless.

"Then, I was tasked with coming up with a project to help people, but I have tried and tried all my life. Tried enough to know the only thing that will help them, really make a difference, is if they're not eights. And there was no point of the eights in the first place." I shook my breath catching as I croaked out, "They're just kids."

"Why isn't that camera off!" The king snapped. I looked up and saw one camera, that was definitely off before, was on. No, I told the whole world about them, they wouldn't even be safe in the shadows anymore. The king stood. "Point them all to the ground." Each camera was aimed to the floor.

He stormed over to me and looked me in the eye. "How did you know so much about the castes." He whispered with the strength of a yell.

"Father, stop!" Maxon jogged up nervously.

I wouldn't look at him or answer the question. Maxon was now beside us. "You stupid boy. Did you show her the diaries?!"

Maxon was a bit taken aback, "Why shouldn't I have?" He asked. But between his father's reaction and mine earlier in the week I could tell the gears in his brain were clicking.

"You idiot," the king spat. "I knew I should have made you read these sooner. You're completely lost. You have no clue of the duty you have!"

I hated hearing the king talk to Maxon that way. No wonder Maxon was doubting his abilities. I had pretty much nothing else to lose so I spoke up. "Maxon is going to be an amazing king. He knows exactly what his duty is because he loves his people and carries the weight of them with him. And, sure, my opinion means absolutely nothing right now, but that doesn't make me wrong." When I am mad the line between brave a stupid starts to get very thin.

"She's done as an Elite." King Clarkson ordered. "I've had enough of her."

"Don't worry I expected that. I have my stuff packed and can be gone within the hour." I responded frankly.

"No." The king replied, "You may be missguided and completely ill suited for the throne, but you're no traitor and unfortunately I still need your mind to deal with the rebels."

"And if I don't want to help you carry on Gregory Illea's legacy of punishing the poor."

"You don't have a choice." He shot back. The power from rage seeped out of me. He was the king and he could do whatever he wished. He could keep me locked up and make me work. Threaten my family. Threaten the children I helped feed and raise. Promise never to do anything to help anyone. He had every ball in his court and I was just his pon.

"Fine." I whispered the tears flowing. It wasn't as if I didn't want to be an advisor anyway. Eventually Maxon would be king and he's redeemable. My best chance to help them was here, as an advisor.

Maxon had been watching us go back and forth and finally he cut in. "No." He was calm but had power to his voice. "You can't kick her out of the elite. That's my choice, and I say she stays." I was shocked. Why would he want me to stay in the elite? His father is determined to keep me in the castle anyway. And even if he likes me, I must have just proven I was in no way princess material.

"Maxon Calix Schreave, I am the king of Illéa, and I say—"

Maxon raised his voice beyond a whisper and it was the first time anyone beyond us could hear the converstaion. "Could you stop being the king for five minutes and just be my father?" Maxon, now yelling, continued. "This is my choice. You got to make yours, and I want to make mine. No one else is leaving without my say so!"

I saw Natalie lean in to Elise. They both looked like they were shaking.

(Cass)

"Maxon, I need to see you in my office."

I watched Maxon; and maybe I only imagined it, but it looked like panic flickered briefly behind his eyes.

"Or," the king offered, "I could simply talk to her." He gestured over to me.

"No," Maxon said quickly, holding up a hand in protest. "That won't be necessary. Ladies," he added, turning to the other Elite, "why don't you all head upstairs? We'll have dinner sent to you tonight."

As they left I looked at Maxon, who seemed defeated. I felt ashamed. Maxon opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he shook his head and walked away.

Kriss was wringing her hands, looking after Maxon. I couldn't blame her. Something about all of this seemed menacing.

"Clarkson?" Queen Amberly said quietly. "What about the other matter?"

"What?" he asked in irritation.

"The news?" she reminded him.

"Oh, yes." He walked back toward us. I was close enough that I decided to retreat into my chair, afraid of being out there alone again. King Clarkson's voice was steady and calm. "Natalie, we didn't want to tell you before the Report, but we've received some bad news."

"Bad news?" she asked, fiddling with her necklace, already too anxious.

The king came closer. "Yes. I'm very sorry for your loss, but it appears the rebels took your sister this morning."

"What?" she whispered.

"Her remains were found this afternoon. We're sorry." To his credit, there was something close to sympathy in his voice, though it sounded more like training than genuine emotion.

He quickly returned to Maxon, escorting him forcefully out the door as Natalie broke into an ear-shattering scream. The queen rushed over to her, smoothing her hair and trying to calm her down. Celeste, never too sisterly, quietly left the room, with an overwhelmed Elise close behind. Kriss stayed and tried to comfort Natalie, but once it was clear that she couldn't do much, she left as well. The queen told Natalie there would be guards with her parents for good measure and that she would be able to leave for the funeral if she wanted to, holding on to her the whole time.

Everything had gotten so dark so quickly, I found myself frozen in my seat.

When the hand appeared in front of my face, I was so startled, I shied away.

"I won't hurt you," Gavril said. "Just want to help you up." His lapel pin shimmered, reflecting the light.

I gave him my hand, surprised by how shaky my legs were.

"He must love you very much," Gavril said once I had my footing.

I couldn't look at him. "What makes you say that?"

Gavril sighed. "I've known Maxon since he was a child. He's never stood up to his father like that."

Gavril walked away then, talking to the crew about keeping all that they had heard tonight quiet.

(edit)

I went to Natalie. It wasn't like I knew everything about her, but I was sure she loved her sister the way I loved May -and if it was anything like the pain I felt for my chosen family when they died- the ache she's feeling must be relentless and completely consuming. More than that it was another thing I felt responsible for. I didn't catch the attack.

"Natalie, I'm so sorry," I whispered. She nodded. That was the most she could manage.

The queen looked up at me sympathetically, not sure how to convey all her sadness. "And … I'm sorry to you, too. I wasn't trying to … I just …"

"I know, dear."

With how Natalie was doing, staying would be more for my conscience than her support. So I gave the queen a final, deep curtsy and ran out of the room towards Maxon's, wading in the disaster I'd created.

... ... ... ...

Hope you're still good after reading that, the things from this chapter will be very relevant to book three.

Thanks for reading. As always please comment! I love to hear your thoughts! Especially after this chapter because it's definitely different.