A/U: So sorry it has been so long, darling readers! I unfortunately found out that I will be losing my job in a couple of weeks due to closures, so I have been stressing out about that. All screen time has been dedicated to the job search. BUT, I just had to get back to these two. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'll try not to go so long before posting Chapter Ten!

Chapter Nine: Maxon

"Fifteen minute warning, Your Majesties," one of the producers told us, knocking on the door of the parlor we were cloistered in. Kriss took my hand and gave it a squeeze, sincere grief and worry in her eyes. It made my heart squeeze guiltily; I felt sorry that I had allowed her to have such an intimate position in my life over America, and I felt sorry that I could never allow her to have America's intimate position in my heart.

"Well, at least it will be out there now," My father said simply, patting my mother's cheek as he stood up, "Who knows, maybe the girl's meddling ways will prove to rally our people behind us again."

"America," I muttered, gently extracting my hand from Kriss', "Her name is America, Father. Or Lady America if you please."

The King tossed me an annoyed glance before sweeping from the room, my mother exiting behind him with a sad, apologetic little smile. I sighed and stood up myself, sensing Kriss' eyes on me as I sauntered to the window. I slid my hands into my pockets and looked over the gardens, wishing I could turn back time and find myself on a picnic blanket there with America in my arms.

"Do… Do you think they will kill her, Maxon?" Kriss whispered. I took a deep breath, grateful she had avoided using that asinine 'X' nickname. I didn't answer right away but raised my eyes to the night sky outside the window. I wished I could reassure the woman sitting behind me, and I wished I could take my own fear and doubt away.

"I don't know," I murmured honestly, swallowing the tears that thickened my voice, "I know they're angry and uncivilized. I'm hoping that, by getting the word out tonight, we'll be able to find her."

Kriss nodded, then stood. I could tell she was waiting for me to lead her out of the room, but I could not bring myself to turn away from the view of the gardens… The grounds I had walked so often hand in hand with America.

"I'll give you a minute," She sighed, and I could not deny the sadness in her voice. I simply nodded, then leaned my forehead against the cool pane of the window.

The last few days had not been easy on my heart.

I had watched, pained, as Officer Leger had left only an hour after we received the note from America's kidnappers, sent by my father to deliver the news to The Singers. It should have been me carrying that burden, sent out to inform and comfort the family that was supposed to be mine.

But Aspen had been quick, respectfully informing my father and his advisors that he had come from Carolina and knew The Singers quite well, as his mother had often worked for America's. I had shoved my fists into the pocket of my pants to keep from shoving him, but kept my mouth shut. It would be a death sentence if my father knew of the Officer's betrayal to the crown.

I had told Kriss and the other ladies myself, who had been sent home early and all celebrations postponed. Celeste had begged to stay in order to help the search for her friend, but she too was urgently rushed from the palace. My father had finally decided it was time to let the country know, under the pretense that it would lead people to help us find her. I knew better; He wanted to get the word out that she was missing before it could get out that she had been gone for days and nothing had been done.

I sighed and let my gaze linger on our spot in the gardens for one more long moment before I turned to follow the others out of the room. The usual energy behind the scenes of The Report was more subdued than I had ever seen it, my parents and Kriss speaking quietly in a huddle. I approached them with a reassuring nod to my fiancée, pulling her chair out for her.

"Thanks, love," she sighed, and I could not help but flinch at the term of endearment that was more than I could ever offer her. I knew that now. I felt awful when the fresh tears shining in her eyes told me that she had noticed.

The Report started abruptly, my father wasting no time in addressing the nation. He did waste time, however, in mentioning America. I glanced up at him, watching as the King waxed poetic about great advances in the south and renewed hope that our country could soon be at peace.

After his long winded prelude, he nodded towards me with an exaggerated sigh of sadness.

A showman through and through, my father was.

"Despite this good news, some bad has also seeped through. A great friend to the royal family was…" My father hesitated, arching an eyebrow as the monitors around the room went blank.

I felt Kriss jump in her seat beside me as a loud pop, followed by a crackle, filled the room. The producers and cameramen were suddenly shifty and alarmed, and I struggled to make sense of the technical difficulty.

There was another loud pop, and a laugh… mingled with a pained shriek.

"Smile for our audience now."

Suddenly, the monitors that surrounded us flickered, switching from The Report to a prison cell. A man entered the shot, approaching a figure tied to the chair. A woman. Slumped over, head hanging… Face hidden.

A face hidden by matted red hair.

The man grabbed America's hair and jerked her head back, revealing her face, peppered with black and yellow bruises. I almost knocked my chair over in my haste to stand, Kriss reaching up to grab my elbow. I shook her hand off, unable to look away from the closest television screen. America's eyes wheeled up to meet her captor's and, for a moment, I was relieved to see the familiar fire and strong will still burning in their blue depths. She bared her teeth and kicked her leg out, clearly connecting where it mattered. Her kick sent him careening, swearing, out of the shot. His hand quickly reappeared, backslapping America so hard her head jerked to the side.

"Enough!" He barked, grasping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. "It's time, America. Tell them. Tell our people, our country, how poorly you were treated by the Royal Family during The Selection."

I felt my father stiffen at my side and I moved away, closer to the screens.

"Turn it off, get rid of it!" he yelled, waving his hand at our producer.

"We're trying, your Majesty! They're overriding everything!"

The confused and scared voices surrounding me quieted to a hum as America spoke.

"I don't know where you got that idea," She hissed, spitting out blood from her newly busted lip, "I didn't start bleeding until I got here. Talk about mistreatment."

I braced myself to watch my love be struck again, but her captor simply laughed instead.

"Can't hide the quiver of heartbreak in your voice, America," he sighed, placing what appeared to be a gentle hand atop her head, "No doubt being cast aside for a better Princess has left its mark."

I heard Kriss whimper behind me, but I ignored her, stepping even closer to one of the monitors. I pressed my fingertips to the screen.

America.

"All I want is for Prince Maxon to be happy," America whispered, showing weakness for the first time since our broadcast had been interrupted.

"And he's happy now, is he not?" Her captor asked, intimately running his fingertips down her bruised cheek. "Did you not tell me he probably made the right choice?"

The screen went black, and for a moment I thought my father's crew had gotten our feed back. But then something flickered, and America filled the screen again. She was on the floor now, and her lip was no longer bleeding.

This had been filmed earlier.

"Perhaps we all overestimated the prince's affections towards you, don't you think?" Her captor asked, and my heart shattered when I saw a glimpse of doubt in her eyes. In that brief second, I remembered all the promises I had made her… I glanced over my shoulder, helpless as her tormentor taunted what we meant to each other. My eyes met Aspen Leger's green gaze, my anguish mirrored there.

I had told her once that I wasn't him. That when life got real, I would refuse to abandon her. I wouldn't give up on her.

And the very moment things had gotten messy, I had done just that.

If I had let her explain, if what her sister had said was true about Leger and America's maid, she would be safe now. In my arms and out of the dirty prison cell where she was being tormented.

I was jerked back to the present as the shot changed again, returning to the brutal scene from before. This time, America was crying out as two men ripped away the bandage from her shoulder, revealing a dark wound. It was clearly infected and painful.

"This is what the crown did to you," he said pitifully, wiping a tear away from America's dirty and bruised cheek. The camera pulled back, showing that America was barely dressed in what looked like torn and tattered pajamas… Her bare legs were scratched and bruised, and she had lost weight. Only then did I realize her face appeared sunken in beneath the bruises. "Do you deny it?"

She closed her blue eyes for a moment, then opened them, looking directly at the camera.

"Yes." She whispered. Everyone in the room gasped, my parents included.

"Yes," Her captor smiled, brushing her hair away from her face. A shock of anger coursed through my veins when he dared touch her in that manner, soothed only by America's bravery when she jerked her face away. Undeterred, the man grasped her chin and forced her to face the camera. She kept her eyes downcast. "Yes, you agree this is what they did to you. What they do to us all. Use us for their benefit and toss us aside… Just like Prince Maxon used you and threw you aside for someone more fitting."

America slowly raised her blue eyes, fierce and determined.

"Yes, I deny it," she corrected, each word ringing clearly. Her captor dropped her face and stepped out of the camera.

"He doesn't love you, America."

A single finger poked her infected wound, where she had been shot, I realized. America bit her lip, screwing her eyes shut. Fighting every display of pain.

Oh darling. Just scream.

"He and his family know you're here. I've written them myself. And nothing. Not a peep. They don't care. Doesn't that make you hate him like he hates you?" He twisted his finger into the wound and she broke, tossing her head back with a blood-curdling scream. He twisted the digit again, torturing her. Her face reddened as tears streamed down her cheeks.

After what seemed like eons, he dropped his hand, and we all watched as America gulped, gasping for breath. She raised her head, eyes closed as she composed herself. She opened her bloodshot eyes, looking directly into the camera.

I silently pleaded with her to give him what he wanted. The future of the monarchy, my life, this very country be damned.

"I will die loving Maxon," and I could swear she knew she was speaking directly to me. She endured another blow to the cheek, just as she shouted. "Long live the crown! Long live the prince!"

There was another crackle, and my stricken face filled the monitor instead. Our feed was back.

"Cut it!" My father hissed off camera, but I could not be bothered with the flurry of activity behind me as the producers scrambled to end The Report. I spun on my heel without glancing back at any of them…

Not Kriss, not my father, not even my mother.

I needed to get to her.

I had to find America.