A/N: Okay, I'm back on track. I just read The Betrothed, and it got me back into the Selection series. I've reread the entire series and all my favorite fanfics, and now we're back to this :) I have enough written now for regular updates for another month or so, and hopefully it will keep going through then! Also, I went back through this whole thing and changed a few minor details, so you might want to go back and read previous chapters.Y'all who are still reading this astonish me. Thanks a whole lot!

"So, Lady Celeste, you're saying that the quantities aren't sufficient and you feel the number of men taken in the next draft should be raised?" Gavril Fadaye, the moderator of discussions on the Illéa Capital Report and the only person who ever interviews the royals, asks.

Our debates on the Report are tests, and we know it. Even though Maxon doesn't have a timeline, the public is aching for the field to narrow; and I sense the king, queen, and advisors are, too. If we want to stay, we have to perform, whenever and wherever they say. I am glad that I've made it through that awful report about the soldiers. I remember some of the statistics, so I stand a decent chance of making a good impression tonight.

"Exactly, Gavril. The war in New Asia has been going on for years. I think one or two rounds of inflated drafts would give the numbers we need to end it."

I really can't stand Celeste. She got one girl kicked out, ruined Kriss' birthday party last month, and literally tried to rip a dress off my back. Her status as a Two makes her consider herself a cut above the rest of us. To be honest, I don't have an opinion about the number of soldiers Illéa has, but now that I know Celeste's, I am unwaveringly opposed.

"I disagree," I say in as ladylike a tone as I can manage. Celeste turns my way, her dark hair whipping over her shoulder in the process. With her back to the camera, she feels perfectly comfortable blatantly glaring at me.

"Ah, America, you think increasing the numbers is a bad idea?" Gavril asks.

I feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks. "Twos can afford to pay their way out of the draft, so I'm sure Lady Celeste has never seen what it does when families lose their only sons. Taking more would be devastating, particularly for the lowest castes, who tend to have larger families and need every member to work in order to survive."

Marlee, beside me, gives me a friendly nudge.

Celeste takes over. "Well then, what should we do? Certainly you aren't suggesting that we sit back and let this war drag on?"

"No, no. Of course I want Illéa to be done with the war." I pause to gather my thoughts and look across to Maxon for some sort of support. Next to him, the king looks peeved.

I need to switch directions, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "What if it was voluntary?"

"Voluntary?" Gavril asks.

Celeste and Natalie chuckle, which makes it worse. But then I think about it. Is it really such a terrible idea?

"Yes. I'm sure that there would need to be certain requirements, but perhaps we'd get more out of an army of men who want to be soldiers as opposed to boys who are only doing what it takes to stay alive and get back to the life that they left behind."

A hush of consideration falls on the studio. Apparently, I made a good point.

"That's a good idea," Elide chimes in. "Then we'd also be sending out new soldiers every month or two as people sign up. It might be invigorating to the men who have been serving awhile."

"I agree," Marlee adds, which is usually the extent of her comments. She clearly isn't comfortable in debate situations.

"Well, I know this might sound a little modern, but what if it was open to women?" Kriss comments.

Celeste laughs aloud. "Who do you think would sign up? Would you be heading into a battlefield?" Her voice drips with insulting disbelief.

Kriss keeps her head together. "No, I'm not soldier material. But," she continues, to Gavril, "if there's one thing that being in the Selection has taught me, it's that some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you," she finishes with a smile.

~PtG~

Back in my room, I allow my maids to stay a little later than usual to help me get the pile of pins out of my hair.

"I liked your idea of the army being voluntary," Mary says, her nimble fingers hard at work.

"Me, too," Lucy adds. "I remember watching my neighbors struggle when their oldest sons were taken. It was almost unbearable when so many of them didn't come home." I can see a dozen memories flash before her eyes. I have some of my own.

Miriam Carter was widowed young; but she and her son, Aiden, managed all right, just the two of them. When the soldiers showed up at her door with a letter and a flag and their meaningless condolences, she caved in on herself. She couldn't make it on her own. Even if she had the ability, she didn't have the heart.

Sometimes I saw her begging as an Eight in the same square where I said my goodbyes in Carolina. But it isn't as if I had anything to give her.

"I know," I say to Lucy's reflection.

"I thought Kriss went a bit too far," Anne comments. "Women in battle sounds like a terrible idea."

I smile at her prim face as she focuses intently on my hair. "According to my dad, women used to-"

A short burst of knocks comes at the door, startling all of us.

"I had a thought," Maxon announces, walking in without an answer. It appears we have a standing date Friday nights after the Report.

"Your Majesty," they say together, Mary dropping pins as she sinks into her curtsy.

"Let me help you," Maxon offers, coming to Mary's aid.

"It's all right," she insists, blushing fiercely and backing out of the room. Far less subtly than I'm sure she intends, she makes wide eyes at Lucy and Anne, begging them to leave with her.

"Oh, um, goodnight, miss," Lucy says, tugging on the hem of Anne's uniform to get her to follow.

Once they are gone, Maxon and I both break down into laughter. I turn to the mirror and continue to work the pins out of my hair.

"They're a funny lot," Maxon comments as he plucks a pin from the back of my head and sets it with the others.

"It's just that they admire you so much."

Modestly, he waives the compliment away. "Sorry I interrupted," he says to my reflection.

"It's fine," I answer, tugging out the last pin. I run my fingers through my hair and drape it over my shoulder. "Do I look okay?"

Maxon reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, staring for a little longer than necessary as he nods. He clears his throat and comes to his senses as I laugh at him a little. "Anyway, this idea…"

"Do tell."

"So, I went back to the room and looked up Halloween, since we were… otherwise occupied," he starts as I move over to my bed to get comfortable. "It turns out that in the United States of America, it was a holiday in the fall where children would dress up in costumes and go around to houses near them and get candy in return for saying 'trick or treat'. The idea was that you would get tricked or get a treat, but no one ever tricked, except for rude young people," Maxon explains.

"That sounds interesting. Not quite what I was expecting, but it sounds like a good time," I smile, gesturing for him to sit on the bed. "What's your idea?"

"Halloween was in October, it's October now. Why couldn't we have a Halloween party? I figure all the Selected girls could have costumes made and the off-duty guards could be spare dance partners; there's only one of me and it wouldn't be fair to make everyone wait a turn. We'll give you guys some dancing lessons over the next two weeks. You did say there isn't much to do during the day, didn't you? And the candy! We'll have the best candies imported. You, my dear, will be stuffed by the end of the night. We'll have to roll you off the floor."

I am mesmerized.

"And we'll make an announcement, tell the entire country to celebrate. Let kids dress up and go door to door doing tricks, like they used to. Your sister will love that, won't she?"

"Of course she will! Everyone will!"

Maxon deliberates for a moment, pursing his lips. "How do you think she would like celebrating here, at the palace?"

I am stunned. "What?"

"At some point in the competition, I'm supposed to meet the parents of the Elite. Might as well have siblings come and do this around a festive time as opposed to waiting-"

His words are cut off by me barreling into his arms. I am so elated by the possibility of seeing May and my parents, I can't contain my excitement. He wraps his arms around my waist and stares into my eyes, his own glittering with delight. How did this person- someone I'd imagined would be my polar opposite- always seem to find the things that would make me the happiest?

"Do you mean it? Can they really come?"

"Of course," he answers. "I've been longing to meet them, and it's part of the competition. Anyway, I think it would do all of you good to see your families."

Once I am sure that I won't cry, I whisper back, "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome… I know you love them."

"I do."

He chuckles. "And it's clear you'd do practically anything for them. After all, you stayed in the Selection for them."

I jerk back, putting space between us so I can see his eyes. There is no judgment there, only shock at my abrupt movement. I can't let this pass, though. I have to be absolutely clear.

"Maxon, they were most of the reason I stayed in the beginning, but they're not why I'm here now. You know that, right? I'm here because…"

"Because?"

I look at Maxon, his adoring face so hopeful. Say it, America. Just tell him.

"Because?" he asks again, this time with an impish smile coming to his lips, which makes me soften even more.

I think about my conversation with Marlee and the way I'd felt the other day when we talked about the Selection. It is hard to think of Maxon as my boyfriend when there are other girls dating him, but he isn't just my friend. That hopeful feeling hits me again, the wonder that we might be something special. Maxon is more to me than I'd let myself believe.

I give him a flirtatious smile and start walking towards the door.

"America Singer, you get back here." He runs in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we stand, chest to chest. "Tell me," he whispers.

I swallow thickly. "I- I'm here because you do things like take my silly question and show me a secret library. I'm here because you're bringing my family. I'm here because you're letting me decide about Aspen, not giving me ultimatums. I'm here because you are brave, and beautiful and kind, and I don't know what I'd do if I could never see you again. I'm here because the thought of you with someone else like this, someone else loving you makes me want to cry-"

"Loving me?" Maxon interrupts, brushing a lock of hair away from my face and cupping my cheek.

I freeze. I hadn't meant to say that, my mouth had run away from me. Tears well up in my eyes, though I'm not really sure why.

Maxon suddenly pulls me to him, kissing me fiercely. The tears fall from my eyes as the enormity of what I have done overwhelms me. I have chosen.

"Darling, what's wrong?" he asks, pulling me close to him.

"I just don't want to leave here. Leave you."

He holds me tighter, if that's even possible.

"So…" Maxon begins. "I- you're choosing me? You're sure?"

I'm not sure. Am I? "I… think so?" I say, still unsure.

Maxon sighs, hugs me again, and kisses my forehead. "Don't rush it, darling. I want you to be sure when you choose me. I'd rather wait a few more days and know for sure than have you back out on me."

I smile up at him. "I… you're a good man, you know that? You are kind, and good, and everything this country needs. No matter who your queen is, you are going to do great things."

I see how much this means to him, and I will him to understand how deeply I mean it. I think he gets the message, because he pulls me closer and kisses me deeply for a few more moments. He pulls away, too quickly for my tastes.

"I should probably go," he says. "If we're going to add all the families to the celebration, I need to make extra plans."

I pull back, still giddy that I am going to get to hug Mom, dad, and May soon. "Thank you, again."

We walk to the door together, and I am afraid to let go of his hand, in case the moment breaks with our touch. Maxon turns to face me. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers, his nose only millimeters from mine. I lean forward to brush them together. When I stand back again, Maxon is gazing at me adoringly. "You're astonishing," he says reverently before backing out of the door and shutting it gently.

Once he's gone, I close my eyes and pull in everything from our short time together: the way he stares at me, the playful smiles, the sweet kisses. I think about them over and over as I get ready for bed, and I hope that Maxon is doing the same thing.