Chapter Seven: Maxon

"Father, they're her family. We must tell them."

I had been arguing with my father for two days, urging him to let America's family in on our secret. He refused, insisting that no one else could know about her death.

"She died saving a family!" I cried, frustrated, "And she was supposed to- she very well could have been my wife!"

"But she's not!" My father had yelled back, tired of arguing, "We will make her death, and yes, sacrifice, known in due time! But not now! Not until we know how best to approach this."

I slumped in my office chair, rubbing my eyes. My father shook his head.

"Go be with your fiancée," he suggested, his voice gentle as if he were comforting me, "The cameras haven't seen you together in days. People will start to get suspicious."

I shook my head as he left, spinning in my chair to gaze out the window over the gardens… As if, by some miracle, I might see a flash of red hair among the flowers.

XxXxX

I ran one fingertip down her cheek, watching as her eyelashes fluttered. Her skin was cream in the moonlight spilling through her window, made all the lighter by the red bra she wore. The comforter had slipped away during the night, revealing nearly all of her.

How had I gotten so lucky? What had I done to please God so, that an angel like America would let me gaze upon her? I brushed my lips to her cheek, my nose grazing her skin. I raised my head, pleased to find her light eyes gazing up into mine. She hummed, smiling as she stretched her slender arms over her head.

"What is it?" She asked sleepily, her eyes closing again.

"Just watching you dream, love," I answered honestly, brushing my fingertips over her stomach until my hand came to rest on her hip, "You are so lovely in the moonlight."

She opened her eyes, a rose blush blooming on her cheeks.

"It doesn't feel real, sometimes," she whispered, "When you say things like that… I'm afraid I don't deserve them."

I shook my head, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

"Oh, my darling," I breathed against her lips before kissing my way down her neck, "Don't you know how completely you have changed my life? Changed me?" I pressed my lips to the dip in her collarbone, pulling her closer. "I never knew love would be all encompassing like this. Like I could drown in it; I could drown in you."

When I raised my head, tears were glistening in her eyes.

"I love you, Maxon," she murmured, brushing her fingertips down my cheek before tugging my ear playfully. I blushed, then ducked my head to press a kiss to her bare stomach. She giggled, somewhat breathless, running her fingers through my hair.

"I thought we were being good?"

"Just because we are going to wait doesn't mean I could resist such a taste," I teased, raising my head to catch her smiling lips with my own.

"Don't you think it would be nice to have coffee with the girls in the Women's Room?"

"Hmm?" I murmured, looking up at Kriss from the spot I had been picking at on my pants, jerking me out of my memory. I felt guilty for a moment, as if I had been caught cheating on her. She huffed, then repeated herself.

"Coffee? The girls? The Women's Room?"

For weeks now, my anger had propelled me forward. I dove headfirst into my engagement to Kriss, wanting to prove to America and myself that she could not hurt me anymore. All our fights, all of the bitterness, and all of the dishonesty had come to an end.

Although I knew I did not love Kriss, not fully, I was determined to force myself to fall when I had proposed to her instead of America. There had been moments during The Selection in which I could catch a glimpse of what it would be like to be in love with her.

It had all become a moot point. I knew now, with absolute certainty, that my world would always be a bit dimmer without America's light… and my heart would never be whole again.

With one meeting, one sentence, one terrible reality…

My world had shattered. Would I ever be genuinely happy again? I doubted it.

Yet I kept moving forward.

It was no longer anger that moved me, but a sense of duty. To my country, to Kriss, to my parents.

To America herself.

And it was that sense of duty that kept me in my seat during breakfast with my fiancée in her room. She sat comfortably in her robe while I had arrived, dressed for the day.

I had yet to spend the night in her room, and for that I was thankful. I wasn't ready to share my secret, myself, with anyone but my lost love.

"That sounds nice, yes," I agreed, swiping my napkin over my lips. I smiled at her across the table. She reached for my hand as I went for my orange juice, and I raised my eyes to hers.

"X, what's wrong?" She asked quietly, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand.

"Nothing's wrong," I lied, my smile still pasted across my face. She shook her head, tapping her slippered foot against my shin beneath the table.

"Nuh uh, Mister. You don't get off that easy," She teased, and the kindness in her smile reminded me why she had made it so far in The Selection, "I'm going to be your wife, remember? Your partner. I know you."

I blinked, glancing down at our joined hands. For a moment, I considered telling her. Would she be hurt by the extent of my grief? Would she guess at the depth of my feelings for America?

I opened my mouth, but there was a sharp knock on her door. She sighed and nodded for her maid to answer the door, all the while still clutching my hand.

I glanced up, just as Officer Leger stepped into the room. My first instinct was to lunge toward him, to land just one punch against his jaw, but the barely concealed grief in his green eyes gave me pause.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Your Majesty. My Lady," He bowed, "Prince Maxon, sir, your father requests your presence at once."

"Let me get dressed," Kriss stood, but Officer Leger frowned.

"Pardon me, My Lady," He bowed again, "But the king's request was for the prince alone."

His eyes darted towards me.

"I believe it's in regard to the Carolina attacks."

I almost knocked over my chair in my haste to stand up.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," I breathed, dropping a quick kiss to Kriss' forehead, "Send the girls my apologies. Unfortunately, the rebels have no respect for brunch dates."

She chuckled, relaxing back in her chair. Problems in Carolina must seem far away to her right now.

I strode out of the room, instinctively straightening my suit jacket, and sensed Officer Leger fall in line behind me.

"What strings did you pull to get this kind of clearance, Leger?" I asked, directly speaking to America's ex-boyfriend for the first time since I caught them talking.

"I have friends in high places, sir," he said simply, "Higher even than an almost-princess." It sounded like he had been trying to make a joke, but his voice cracked on the last word.

Hmm. Well, at least I wasn't alone in my pain.

There was more I wanted to say to Officer Aspen Leger, but I was distracted at once as he ushered me into my father's office. The King was sitting at his desk, and he looked up at me, wide-eyed.

"Show him," he told the General as I walked in. The General stepped forward, carrying a manila envelope. He glanced at me, then spilt the contents onto the desktop.

A blue beaded bracelet clattered onto the mahogany, and I recognized it immediately. My fingers snatched it up, shaking when I realized it was spattered with dark stains. The thread running through the beads had been practically soaked in blood.

America's blood.

I heard Leger gasp behind me.

I raised my eyes to my father's, but he simply gestured to the rest of the envelope's contents. I picked up the single sheet of paper, my knees going weak when my fingers brushed over a lock of her red hair taped to the note.

I sunk into the chair opposite the King as I read the note, sure that the pounding of my heart suddenly filled the room.

SHE'S ALIVE. YOUR MOVE.

A/N: I hope you guys are loving this story so far! It has been so much fun hearing from you all.