I was with Dad in a conference room, working on papers that stated renewed terms and conditions of our trade with England and Swendway—our two most powerful allies. We hadn't talked about America, because he was being cold hearted regarding her. His exact words were, "Stop worrying. She'll be back. Stop stomping around."
Justin barged in, breathing a little heavily. Composing himself in front of the king, he said, "A guard just arrived. The rescue team had found Lady America. They'll be here in a quarter hour. Although she is unconscious for now, with little scratches on her hands and legs, she is perfectly fine."
"That's s good news, Justin." Father said, not looking up from the notes Stavros had made. 'Thanks for informing us. You may go now."
It was barely fifteen minutes when I stood up, impatient.
"I'll be back—"
"No. As informed, she is unconscious now. You can see her when she's fine. We have so much work to do."
"She may need me."
"Dr. Ashler will take care of her."
"She is my Elite!" my anger rose again.
His voice was still low. "True. And you've wasted a whole day on her. Now that she is safe, I expect you to do some actual work."
"I'd—"
"It's not a matter open to discussion, Maxon. You're staying here till we are done. Justin, be a good lad and bring us some coffee. It's going to be long night."
"True. It's going to be a long night." I said, working on the argument with the points he'd thrown at me. "As you're already aware of, I'd wasted the whole day. I'm sure you expect me to do good now. We both know it would only happen if I see for myself she is fine. Now, sir, excuse me."
Not waiting for him to say anything else, I went in the palace grounds, facing the forest. Sure, a two minutes later I could see many silhouettes walking out of the woods, one of them carrying America. Another minute passed. When they were finally close enough, I ran to them and took a good look at her.
Relief flooded into me as I saw her all well and good. She was unconscious, but there wasn't much harm seen onto her and that was a big relief.
Her hands were wrapped around the guard's neck, her head resting on his chest. If I didn't know better, I would've thought she is sleeping peacefully. Her hands and legs were covered with clotted blood, scratched and bloodied. The hem of her dress was torn and dirty, her feet uncovered, her heels in hands of another guard.
Without taking my eyes off of her, I took her in my arms, as gently as I could. She whimpered a little but then nestled closer. The guard tried to protest, but I didn't care. With great care, as if walking with a previous treasure, which I was, I took her to the hospital wing.
Dr. Ashler was already waiting for her. He cursed watching her sight. "What was she doing?" he muttered to himself.
The guard who had been holding her answered, "She outran the rebels and climbed a tree. That's why her heels and palms are nearly torn."
"Outran?" The doc repeated, impressed. "I've never heard of a woman outrunning the rebels, or anyone for the matter."
A small smile played on my lips. "That's my girl." I said, only go myself, but I guess the guard who'd carried her heard it as he sucked in a deep breath. "Doc, will she be fine?" My eyes were still at her sleeping form.
"Fine? She has nothing to worry about except for a few cuts. Superficial ones, that too. She'll be out of here by the morning."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I ever not, Your Highness?" At my lack of response, he gave me a simpering smile. "You all must leave now—I have a patient. Only one of you is enough."
The officer—looking at him I realised he was the one who came from America's hometown, the one she'd danced and looked with longing on Halloween—said, "I'll stay."
As much as I wanted to say I'll stay, I couldn't, nodding instead. "Fine. Call me if there is any update. And doc, treat her well."
"She'll be as good as today in no time, Your Highness."
Ruled by my temptation, I ran my knuckles over her cheeks once. Ruled by it, I even kissed her forehead, murmuring a low, "Get well soon, darling." And went back to the conference room where father was waiting for me.
His delight in denying me was not unseen by me, and neither was his sneer when I came back. He knew how much America mattered to me, and he was doing all this just because he could do. All because he didn't like her, because he didn't want any Five in the palace.
Justin was right. I didn't want to infuriate him more. America was already in a trouble with her project and lacking in it. If father came to it, he would do anything to raise problems for her and have her eliminated.
Fine, then. If he wanted me to play by his rules, then so be it.
Now that I knew she was safe, I worked with my whole attention. He had his satisfaction of seeing me terrified. Now I'll have my delight in proving him wrong. In every matter.
But maybe it was time to infuriate him. If he was going to do everything in his right to throw her out, than I was going to everything I could to keep her here. With me. No matter what.
.
.
.
"I guess we are all prepared for tomorrow's meeting." Dad announced to an almost empty room, closing his notes.
Stavros—present here despite it being a free day for him due to an emergency meeting regarding South and foreign alliances—and I closed our notes as well. Justin and Charles—father's butler—both standing at a far corner of the room, came to take care of the documents.
"Tomorrow at eleven, Stavros." Dad reminded him.
"Yes, Your Majesty." With that father left the room, his butler following him.
Stavros turned to me. "You'll do great, Your Highness." His wrinkled face turned into a handsome one as he grinned at me.
Stavros had been my honorary grandfather since I was a child. Despite father's cold behaviour towards me, he always believed in me and my opinions. Coming that from him was the biggest compliment I could think of.
"Thank you, Stavros. I hope I'll have the same confidence in myself as well."
"You'll do good, lad. Don't worry. Take a good night sleep and you'll be alright."
"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me."
"Oh, yes. If Lady America is up, wish all well from me as well."
At some other time it would've troubled me to know that Stavros knew I was going to visit America despite it being a late hour, but for now I felt nothing. "Will do. Good night, Stavros."
He nodded. Looking at Justin, he understood what I was going to convey. "I'll collect all these papers and have it arranged on your desk for your tomorrow meeting."
"I won't be late."
"You know my thoughts on that." Came his wry reply.
I knew. He'd told me again and again the whole day whenever we got time that "You and America need to talk. Clear things out. It won't do any of any good. Especially me. Remember? I have placed my hundred bucks on her." He'd laughed then, making me smile as well. "But seriously, you need to explain her things."
"I know, Justin." I'd told him, but what he didn't know was why I was trying to delay it. Because deep inside I knew it wouldn't be so easy to woo America back. "I wish things were simple."
"That makes the two of us, Max." He'd said, clapping me on my shoulder.
Now that the time has come, I was nervous. And anxious. Justin clapped my shoulder again, squeezing it gently. "I know. Things can get messy, or more tangled than they already are. But you can't just delay it, and you know it—she deserves to know."
"I hate it when you're right."
"Which is probably almost all the time."
"You wish."
He chuckled and patted my shoulder. "Go."
I nodded and crossed the threshold of the room, passing through the passageway on the third floor. I knew I should be silent as a cat, but I couldn't care any less. If anyone— anyone—wanted to stop me, then they'll be disappointed.
"Maxon!" came a booming voice from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. A filthy curse left my mouth as I turned. "What are you doing here?"
"You already know." I replied, not caring at all.
He arched a brow. "This late? You shouldn't do that."
"I don't care."
"You should." His voice was no more than a whisper, but that much deadly. "Now go in your room. You'll see her tomorrow with everyone."
"I want to see her now."
"You must go in." He snapped, voice barely above audible.
"And you must let me do whatever I wish to do!"
"I would, if what you wish isn't such futile!"
"Futile! She is my Elite!"
"Yet you forget that you are a prince!"
"Yet you always forget her. Each and everytime."
"She will be eliminated soon, so don't fret over something like her."
"Fret! You know what? Just leave me be."
"Stop, Maxon. Don't you dare go. She isn't worth anything."
My temper snapped.
I couldn't waste time here, baiting him and arguing with him. "I don't care what you think I must do or not." My voice equally grave and deadly. "I have to see her, I need to see her, and I want to see her! If you don't want to watch me go, then you must be in your room. It's late."
"You're crossing a big line, Maxon."
"And who gave you the right to sketch a line!" I'd never yelled in front of my father and I didn't do today, either. But it didn't mean I'd never. I was so close to shout at him for holding me back.
"You and your stupid, little infatuation. And that too on the scambag of a Five!" He shouted, slamming a hand on the table nearby as he threw daggers at me with his eyes. "Even Natalie Luca is a better choice than her!"
"I don't care about whatever you think! I'm going to see her for myself."
I turned with all my might, angry as I was, and walked a few steps, my whole body trembling with worry and fury. A few words was all it took him to stab at me with his words. "Maxon Calix Schreave! You don't want to go out this late hour to see her! A stupid crush of yours! Of course, you'd choose the least appropriate one who is nothing but a black spot on the Royal family. With each passing day you're proving me right. You can never be a good king " The shake of head he gave me was the one be always gave me, the only difference being his cruel smile. He knew how much I hated those words.
"If you've already decided I can't be a good king to rule, then there's nothing stopping me from going to her, Father."
"Don't you dare walk out of that door!" Each word a promise as well as threat.
Turning on my heel, this time I glared at him. "What then? How will you stop me? With force? Guards? Or you'll lash me till I'm conscious!" it was a miracle my voice didn't penetrate through the passageway.
"Careful, boy." His voice was lethal, promising the latter of my options. "I might!"
"Fine!" His shoulders tightened as a cruel, victorious smile lifted his lips. I turned on my heels, not wanting to see his face. "I'll stop by your room later this morning to take your offer."
Not waiting for his answer, I ran to the hospital wing, forgetting every manner I had to maintain. I'd worry about my father later, when I was sure she was fine. And everything was sorted between us.
I didn't care that she was angry with me. Or I with her. I didn't care that she didn't want to be mine now. It didn't matter that when she looked at me I couldn't see my old America back. Nothing mattered.
Nothing.
Only one thing that she has to be safe. She has to be!
I wouldn't take any other option for even consideration.
Dr. Ashlar had promised me she would be fine, that all her cuts were just superficial ones, but I couldn't believe it until I saw that with my own eyes.
My eyes still burned with the last image I saw of her. Unconscious. In another's man arms. Bleeding through many cuts on her hands and legs. Her skin pale, tear straining her cheeks. The way she whimpered when I held her. The furrow on her brows when I walked to the hospital wing.
It was too much.
I'll gladly kill all the Northern rebels who'd tried to hurt her.
The hospital wing was almost empty except for the bed accompanying the side wall, an unconscious America still lying on it, her skin still pale.
Relief broke in me with an audible crack, making my knees wobble.
She shuddered, her breathing hitched for a moment before it got back to normal.
Stepping closer, I surveyed her properly. No tear strained cheeks, no colour in them either. Many bandages on her wrists and forearms, on her calves. Her toes were nearly completely bandaged, and so were her fingers. Her dress was unchanged, still torn at the rims, dirt spread all over her gown. Her lips were parted...the slightest sound of snores filling the else silence.
The guard who carried her here was still standing by her bed, looking at her with worry as well as pride.
I approached him. "Thank you for staying, officer"—I searched his tag—"Leger."
"It was the least I could do, Your Highness."
His eyes again landed on America and I felt we both were really worrying about one thing. When will she wake up?
"It's been a long day, officer. You should take rest."
"It's nothing—"
"Do you want me to turn it into an order?"
His eyes tightened for a second, his fingers curling in a fist while his mouth opened and closed couple of times. He swallowed and nodded, though ruefully. "As you say, Your Highness."
Now that I was alone with her, I sat in the chair beside her bed and held her hand, the one with the least bandages, and laced our fingers together, my other hand smoothing her hair back from her cheeks. "I'm here, America, and I'm not going anywhere. Just wake up."
.
.
.
Holding a delicate hand, I marvelled at how delicate my relationship with America had got. One wrong word and everything— everything—will fall into pieces. There won't be much to collect.
A few days ago I would've laughed if anyone told me we would be here today. A few days ago I was sure of her. A few days ago she also saw the future I'd seen in my dreams, standing at the crossroads and knowing with whom I want to walk the rest of the road.
But now...
Everything had fractured into too many tiny pieces, that try as I may I can't join them into one whole again.
I was thinking of how to propose her a week ago, and now I don't even know if we are friends or not. The ring which had been made just for her was now waiting, neglected, under my pillow.
Kissing her palm, I whispered to a still unconscious America, "If only you can give me another chance, darling. If anything."
It was about half hour later that my heart skipped a beat, the reason being the person laying in front of me who just opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, craning her neck. But then she slept again. A few minutes passed while I waited for her go wake up. The nightshift nurse brought some lotions and something else that made me sneeze, which resulted in America waking up.
"I didn't mean to wake you." I mumbled gently, sitting straight. "You should go back to sleep."
She stretched her arms and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Almost two."
"In the morning?"
At my nod, she said nothing. Not knowing what to say or what. I sat there, watching her. And she looked at me.
None words were shared.
She smiled, just a small curve of her lips but a smile nonetheless. "Don't you ever sleep?"
You know me so well to know everything about me in an instant. "I'm just on an edge."
"Occupational hazard?"
No. My private hazards. You. "Something like that."
She stared down at her hands, mulling over something, her hands clenching and unclenching her almost ruined dress. While silence enveloped us, I thought about the best way to approach the conversation I wanted to have with her. A conversation that could either bring us back together or send us further apart, just based on her reaction.
"I thought of something today, when I was in the woods." She mumbled quietly breaking the silence.
"Oh, really?"
"It was about you."
Leaning closer, I rested my hands on her bedside, looking just at her. "Do tell."
She looked away. "Well, I was thinking about how you were last night when Elise and Kriss weren't in the hall, how worried you were. And then today I saw you try to run after me when the rebels came."
Yes, I ran. But I couldn't stop her or them. "I tried. I'm so sorry."
"I'm not upset," she said quickly, "That's the thing. When I was out there alone, I thought about how worried you probably were, how worried you are about the others. And I can't pretend to know how you feel about all of us, but I know that you and I aren't exactly a highlight right now."
That's where she was slightly wrong. We were still a highlight. If what Justin told me about bets being placed was true, then we are still a big highlight.
I laughed lightly, thinking how bizarre the whole situation was. "We've seen better days."
She looked back down, her fingers playing with the thin blanket draped over her. "But you still ran after me." How couldn't I? "You handed Kriss off to a guard because she couldn't run. You're trying to keep us all safe. So why would you ever hurt one of us?"
Where was she going?
Was she jealous? Or maybe she'd hurt her head and got a concussion?
"I understand now. If you're that concerned with our safety, you couldn't have wanted to do that to Marlee. I'm sure you would have stopped it if you could."
My heart thudded as hope swelled inside me. My breathing stopped and then I exhaled softly with relief. She understood. Everything. She didn't know anything, but she was trying to understand everything. That alone meant so much to me.
"In a heartbeat." I said with a sigh.
"I know." And she knew it now.
Silence again found us as we both looked at each other. No words were needed, for now. Before coming here I needed to explain so many things to her, but now no words came or were needed. This was something that was special just because it was with her. No matter if I liked any other Elite or not, she'll always be the special one. My the one.
My hand found her hand again, fingers threading once again, holding her. Her fingers closed on mine, holding me as well. Both of our gazed fell on our entwined hands.
The last time we'd held each other was during last week, at Halloween party. After that each moment we shared was ruled with unknown things, heartaches so much more but not love or affection. She'd never asked me to let her go, but now she was holding my hand.
My throat swelled up as emotions clogged in me.
Finding words that needed to be said, I cleared my throat. "Do you remember how I said I had something I wanted to show you?"
"Yes."
"Don't forget, okay? It's coming. This position requires a lot of things, and they aren't always pleasant. But sometimes...sometimes you can do great things." She nodded, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "I suppose it will have to wait until you're done with this project though. You're a bit behind."
"Ugh!" Groaning, she pulled her hand back from my grasp. The warmth of her hand was already missed by me. As well as the feel of her hand in mine.
For a moment it felt like everything was right or was going to be, when her hand was in mine, but now... The distance between us was already stretching, but with even the contact she'd taken back...the minor chances of us crossing that distance seemed less and less.
"Are they still going to make us do that?" She asked, glancing at me. "There've been two rebel attacks, and I spent the majority of my day lost in the woods. We're going to mess it up."
"You'll have to push through." If my father worked his way, she'd never have a chance of winning anything.
"It's going to be a disaster."
Everything already was.
But not the amusement at looking at her, so distraught, more worried about working a party than being chased by the rebels.
I barely controlled my laugh, schooling in my expression. "Don't worry. Even if you don't do as well as the others, I don't have it in me to kick you out."
A brow arched as she gave me an accusatory glance. "Are you saying that if the others do worse, one of them could be kicked out?"
The answer to that...should I say the truth or lie? Our relationship was already crumbling, I didn't want the lies to be the rocks that be the catalyst.
"Maxon?"
Not having the energy to lie to her, I said the truth. "I have about two weeks before they expect another cut. This is supposed to be a big part of it. You and Kriss have the harder setup. A new relationship, fewer people to do the work; and while the culture is very celebratory, the Italians are easy to offend. Add to that the fact that you've hardly been able to do any work at all..."
She'd barely gained a little colour on her cheeks, but that too turned cold.
"I'm not supposed to help, but if you need something, please say so. I can't send either of you home."
Her eyes dropped. Her hands clenched. There was something in an expression that stunned me into silence. Something strange that I'd never seen in her before.
Maybe it was related to Kriss. Maybe related to the party. But she had to know where she stood and where did I. If there wasn't going to be her, then that space has to be filled in by someone else. She have to acknowledge that or step in.
But...
There was too many buts and ifs now.
"I should go." I said. The way she reacted, it wasn't the right time to have our conversation. She was too tired and when we did have that, we both have to be understanding of it. Not full of anger and anxiousness and nervousness. "You need sleep. You had a very long day." And I need to know what and who I want. And what I can live with.
Ask me to stay!
She didn't. She rolled her eyes, a stupid smile showing on her lips, one that made her look stunning.
My breath caught in my lungs again, but I spoke through it. Because it needed to be said. "I wanted to say so much more to you."
So much. About each and every thing. About how I spent my day and my week. Every small detail and every big thing.
But there was one thing I wanted her to know. "I really thought I'd lost you today."
Her eyes didn't mine even when she shrugged. "I'm fine. Really."
"I can see that now, but there were several hours today when I was forced to brace myself for the worst." I said in a murmur, relieving those hours again as I closed my eyes. Looking at her then was a reassurance to myself that those hours were past me and she was safe now.
I saw her swallow, both of us lost at words again. The only thing I haven't experienced with her, till now.
"Usually, of all the girls, you're the easiest to talk to about what we are. But I have a feeling that perhaps that's not the wisest thing to do right now."
She nodded, looking at her hands instead of me.
"Look at me, America." Was my desperation audible? The thought of losing her, of not having her...of choosing someone else... "I'm fine with that. I can wait. I just want you to know...I'm not able to find words big enough to express how relieved I am that you're here, in one piece. I've never been so grateful for anything."
Still she said nothing.
Till now I was sure I'd nearly lose her and I would do anything to have her back. But was it possible? I didn't have the answer to that. Do I want to force her to live with me? No. Should I let her go? No.
What should I do?
I had no idea.
"Goodnight, America."
When I'd stepped in the hospital room, I'd let myself hope that everything will fall into piece with time. But as I stepped out, I realised how wishful I was to think that. Of course the only dream I wanted to be real was the one out of my grasp.
She didn't call me, and I knew I'd already lost her.
The one person for whom I'd fought everything and everyone was not mine to fight for anymore.
.
.
.
It was after two in the morning, which made it more hard to understand why Charles was standing outside my room, walking here and there in circles. When he saw me I saw his eyes blinked and whatever he was afraid of, he hid it well. "My Highness, Your Majesty is waiting for you in his office. Something about keeping your word."
Shit!
My whole body went still, my ears filled with two sounds. One of the lashes as they fell in my back, tearing my skin, and the second of America's whimpers while she was brought here back after the attack.
Sure destiny was playing a cruel game with me. In exchange for my wish of keeping America safe, I condemned myself to hell.
Walking into my father's office, I let all my emotions close down. He shouldn't know anything that'd happened between America and I. If he got any clue of that, that would be the end of America's journey.
As well as her stay in my life.
"I see you've come back." He murmured, studying another of his file, a decanter filled with amber liquid in another band.
I never knew when and how much did he sleep.
"Yeah."
"Don't you want to apologize?"
I don't think so. I wanted to say that but I adopted for silence.
"As I suspected, she's a bad influence on you."
You have no idea how further from the actuality you are. Again, I said if only in my mind.
"Tell me how did she react when she saw you waiting for her so late? Did she fall at your feet? Did you go on your knees?"
I remained silent.
"Where is your stupid tongue, boy, which showed an appearance back then? Has it gone back?"
I said nothing.
"I'm sure it'll make an appearance when you fall on your knees in front of me, appreciating my gifts. What did you think? Arguing with me? Going this late to her?"
Not saying anything, I took off my coat and removed my shirt, all my scars I'd received from him earlier on display. I sat on my knees, readying myself for what was about to come.
The sound of a wardrobe opening and closing. A small slashing sound as a leather belt was tested. The clinking of ice as he put his decanter down. The terrifying sound of a belt cutting through air.
A jolt on my back.
A sharp inhale was my only response.
Another slash. Another jolt. This time from my shoulder to waist.
My lips clenched, refusing to allow any sound to pass through.
Another slash. A jolt from my shoulder-blade to ribs.
My teeth snapped together as my breathing turned ragged.
A couple more slashes and my lips opened, my breathing audible even to me.
Still his cruel words and the deadening slashes didn't tear me up that I scream. No. I wouldn't allow him the luxury to laugh at my sounds.
A couple more slashes and he gave up.
"Next time you must think before giving me a retort. I will say this again: she isn't worth your time, nor she is worth the kingdom. Leave her. You'll be happy."
I didn't say anything, because the only thing I had to say were more retorts.
"You can hate me as much as you want, but remember I'm your father. And I only want the best for the prince."
Prince. Not his son. Because that will make him soft. And of course, softness was not a virtue of a good king. It was virtue of a delicate king who don't have the guts to fight.
But of course his ideology didn't apply to me.
That night when I stepped back in my room after the torture the leather belt was, I crumbled in my bed—after treating me wounds myself with as much grace I could and cleared as much mess I could—for the first time I slept painlessly.
The pain on my shoulder felt nothing next to America's reaction, and the way she curled up in herself, refusing me.
That was the real torture that broke me. Not the slaps of the belt against my back but her words and actions.
That was the first time I wanted to cry so badly I nearly swallowed my sobs, afraid my father will know where to strike next.
And it was forbidden.
America was off limits.
As the night blended into morning, I realised she was actually off limits. Even for me.
I'd lost her.
Completely.