A/N: Hello again! You're getting two chapters today because they are pretty much word for word from The Elite. I thought about changing it, but too many plot lines fall apart down the road if I did :( Two quick business things. I'm toying around with changing my username so it's the same across platforms like Ao3, Reddit, etc, so be on the lookout for that. Also, I'm going to transfer this over to Ao3 and post it in both places, so if Ao3 is easier for you, keep an eye out for that! Feel free to leave any of your thoughts in a review, or PM me. Thanks for reading!
I barely sleep. Between getting engaged and the excitement of the party it was impossible. I curl closer to May, comforted by her warmth. I'll miss her so much once she leaves, but at least I have the prospect of her living here with me to look forward to.
I wonder who is leaving today. It doesn't seem polite to ask, so I don't; but if pressed, I would guess it is Natalie. Marlee and Kriss are popular with the public- more popular than I am- and Celeste and Elise have connections. I have Maxon's heart, and that leaves Natalie without much to hold on to.
I feel bad because I really don't have anything against Natalie. If anything, I wish Celeste would go. Maybe Maxon will send her home since he knows how much I dislike her. He did say he was going to do whatever he could to make me comfortable.
I sigh, thinking of everything he'd said yesterday. I caress my necklace, but I wish I could keep my ring. Or even just wear it on a chain around my neck, but I know that would be too obvious. I'd never imagined this was possible. How did I, America Singer- a Five, a nobody- fall for Maxon Schreave- a One, the One? How did this happen when I'd spent the last two years bracing myself for life as a Six?
A whisper of sadness brushes through my abdomen. I guess I just need to give Aspen time. I needed it, and he can need it too. But someday, he'll realize I'm right. I've changed too much to be happy with him now.
My maids don't knock when they come in, which is typical. They always try to let me rest as long as possible, and after the day I had yesterday, I certainly need it. But instead of going to prep things, Mary went around to May and gently rubs her shoulder to wake her.
I roll over to see Anne and Lucy with a garment bag. A new dress?
"Miss May," Mary whispers, "it's time to get up."
May slowly rouses. "Can't I sleep?"
"No," Mary says sadly. "There's some important business this morning. You need to go to your parents right away."
"Important business?" I ask. "What's going on?"
Mary looks to Anne, and I follow her eyes. Anne shakes her head, and that seems to be the end of it.
Confused but hopeful, I get out of bed, encouraging May to do the same. I give her a big hug before she goes to Mom and Dad's room.
Once she leaves, I turn back to my maids. "Can you explain now that she's gone?" I ask Anne. She shakes her head. Frustrated, I huff. "Would it help if I commanded you to tell?"
She looks at me, a clear solemnity in her eyes. "Our orders come from much higher. You'll have to wait."
I stand at the door to my bathroom and watch them move. Lucy's hands are shaking as she pulls out fistfuls of rose petals for my bath, and Mary's eyebrows are knit together as she lines up my makeup and the ins for my hair. Lucy sometimes trembles for no reason at all, and Mary tends to do that with her face when she is concentrating. It is Anne's look that makes me scared.
She is always put together, even in the most frightening and taxing of situations, but today she looks as if her body is full of sand, her whole frame low with worry. She keeps stopping and rubbing her forehead as if she can smooth away the anxiety in her face.
I look on as she pulls my dress out of the garment bad. It is understated, simple… and jet-black. I look at the dress and know it can only mean one thing. I start crying before I even know who I am mourning.
"Miss?" Mary comes to help me.
"Who died?" I ask. "Who died?" Anne, steady as ever, pulls me upright and wipes the tears from under my eyes.
"No one has died," she says. But her voice isn't comforting; it is commanding. "Be grateful for that when this is all over. No one died today."
She gives me no further explanation and sends me straight to my bath. Lucy tries to keep herself under control; but when she finally breaks into tears, Anne asks her to go get me something light to eat, and she jumps on the command obediently. She doesn't even curtsy as she leaves.
Lucy eventually returns with some croissants and apple sliced. I want to sit and eat slowly, stretching out my time, but one bite is all it takes for me to know that food is not my friend today.
Finally Anne places my name pin on my chest, the silver shining beautifully against the black of my dress. There is nothing left for me to do but face this unimaginable fate.
I open my door but find myself frozen. Turning back to my maids, I breathe out my fear. "I'm scared."
Anne takes my hands and speaks. "You are a lady now, miss. You must handle this like a Lady."
I give a small nod as she releases me, and I find that she's left a piece of paper behind in my hand. If she's taken such lengths to hide it from Mary and Lucy, there must be a reason, so I don't let on that I've noticed. I turn and walk away. I wish I could say my head was high; but honestly, lady or not, I am terrified.
When I am alone in a corridor, I look at the paper crumpled in my fist. I unfold it, and see Maxon's handwriting. My forehead wrinkles. I don't understand why he would have gone to such lengths to send me a note.
Darling,
I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop this. I've done everything I can. You don't know the whole story, I'll tell you as soon as I can. Trust me. I have a plan.
He didn't sign it, but I know it's Maxon all the same. He's underlined the last two sentences heavily, so I deduce that whatever is about to happen will be awful. Maybe he's sending me home, and he needs to make it really dramatic.
To my immense surprise, when I reach the foyer, the rest of the girls are waiting, all wearing dresses and expressions similar to my own. A wave of relief hits me. I'm not in trouble. If anything, we all are, so at least I won't be going through whatever this is alone.
"There's the fifth," a guard says to his counterpart. "Follow us, ladies."
Fifth? No, that isn't right. It's six. As we walk down the stairs, I quickly scan the girls. The guard is right. Only five. Marlee isn't here.
My first thought is that Maxon has sent Marlee home, but wouldn't she have come by my room to say goodbye? I try to think of a relationship between all the secrecy and Marlee's absence,and nothing I come up with makes sense.
At the bottom of the stairs, an assembly of guards wait, along with our families. Mom, Dad, and May seem anxious. Everyone does. I look at them, hoping for some sort of clarity, but Mom shakes her head while Dad gives me a shrug. I scan the uniformed men for Aspen. He isn't there.
I see a pair of guards escorting Marlee's parents to the back of our line. Her mother is hunched with worry, and she leans into her husband, his face heavy, as if he has aged years in a single night.
Wait. If Marlee is gone, why are they here?
I turn as a burst of light floods the foyer. For the first time since I've been at the palace, the front doors are both opened wide, and we are paraded outside. We cross the short circular driveway and head past the massive walls that fence us into the grounds. As the gates creak open, the deafening sound of a massive crowd greets us.
A large platform has been set up in the street. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people are crowded together, children sitting on the shoulders of their parents. Cameras are positioned around the platform, and production people are running in front of the crows, capturing the scene. We are led to a small section of stadium seats, and the crows cheers for us as we walk out. I can see the shoulders of every girl in front of me relax as the people in the streets call out our names and throw flowers at our feet.
I left my hand in a wave as people call my name. I feel so silly for worrying. If the people are this happy, then nothing bad could be happening. The staff at the palace really need to rethink the way they handle the Elite. All the anxiety for nothing.
May giggled, happy to be a part of the excitement, and I am relieved to see her back to herself. I try to keep up with all the well-wishers on the platform. The first is a ladder-like contraption in the shape of an Al; the second is a large wooden block with loops on either end. With a guard at my side, I climb into my seat in the middle of the front row and try to figure out what is going on.
The crowd erupts again as the king, queen, and Maxon emerge. They too are dressed in dark clothes and wear sober expressions. I am close to Maxon, so I turn his way. Whatever is happening, if he looks at me and smiles, I know it will be fine. He turns toward me and we make eye contact.
What's going on? I ask silently.
Maxon's eyes are stone, and he grimly shakes his head. Now that I am closer to him, I see that his entire body is wracked with stress. I wish I could go over and comfort him, but I don't understand what I would be comforting him about.
A moment later the crowd's cheers turn to cries of disdain, and I turn to see what makes them so unhappy.
My stomach twists as I watch my world shatter.
Officer Woodwork is being dragged out in chains. His lip is bleeding, and his clothes are so dirty he looks like he's spent the night rolling in mud. Behind him, Marlee- her beautiful angel costume lacking its wings and covered in grime- is also in chains. A suit coat covers her hunched shoulders, and she squints into the light. She takes in the massive crowd finding my eyes for a split second before she is pulled forward. She searches once more, and I know who she is seeking out. To my left, I see Marlee's parents watching, gripping each other tightly. They are visibly crushed, gone from this place, as if their very hearts have abandoned them.
I look back to Marlee and Officer Woodwork. The anxiety in the faces is obvious, yet the walk with a certain pride. Only once, when Marlee trips over the hem of her dress, does that veneer crack. Beneath it, terror awaits.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
As they are led up onto the platform, a man in a mask begins speaking. The crows hushes for him. Apparently, this- whatever it is- has happened before, and the people here know how to respond. But I don't; my body lurches forward, and my stomach eaves. Thank goodness I haven't eaten.
"Marlee Tames," the man calls, "one of the Selected, a Daughter of Illéa, was found last night in an intimate embrace with this man, Carter Woodwork, a trusted member of the Royal Guard."
The crier's voice is full of an inappropriate amount of self-importance, as if he is reciting the cure for some deadly disease. The crowd booes again at his accusation.
How can Maxon have a plan for this?
"Miss Tames has broken her vow of loyalty to our prince Maxon! And Mr. Woodwork has essentially stolen property of the royal family through his relations with Miss Tames! These offenses are treason to the royal!" He is shrieking out his statements, willing the crowd to agree. And they do.
But how could they? Don't they know this is Marlee? Sweet, beautiful, trusting, giving Marlee? She made a mistake, maybe, but nothing deserving of this much hatred.
Carter is being strapped up to the A-shaped frame by another masked man, his legs spread wide and his arms pulled into a position that mimics the structure. Padded belts are wrapped around his waist and legs, tightened to a point that looked uncomfortable even from here. Marlee is forced to kneel in front of the large wooden clock as a man ripped the coat from her back. Her wrists are bound down to the loops on either side, palms up.
She is crying.
"This is a crime punishable by death! But, in his mercy, Prince Maxon is going to spare these two traitors their lives. Long live Prince Maxon!
The crowd chants after the man. If I were in my right mind, I would know I am supposed to call out too, or at least applaud. The girls around me do, and so do our parents, even if they are in shock. But I'm not paying attention. All I see are Marlee's and Carter's faces.
We have been given a front-row seat for a reason- to show us what will happen if we make such a stupid mistake- but from here, not more than twenty feet from the platform, I can see and hear everything that really matters.
Marlee is staring at Carter, and he is looking right back at her, craning his neck to do so. The fear is unmistakable, but there is also this look on her face, as if she is trying to reassure him that he is worth all this.
"I love you, Marlee," he calls to her. It is barely audible over the crows, but it is there. "We're going to be okay. It'll be okay, I promise."
Marlee can't speak in her fear, but she nods back at him. In that moment, all I can think of is how beautiful she looks. Her golden hair is messy and her dress a disaster, and she lost her shoes at some point, but my God, she looks radiant.
"Marlee Tames and Carter Woodwork, you are both hereby stripped of your castes. You are the lowest of the low. You are Eights!"
The crows cheers, which seems wrong. Aren't there any Eights standing here who hate being referred to that way?
"And to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought on His Highness, you will be publicly caned with fifteen strikes. May your scars remind you of your many sins!"
Caned? What does that even mean?
My answer comes a second later. The two masked men who bound Carter and Marlee pull long rods out of a bucket of water. They swipe them in the air a few times, testing them out, and I can hear the sticks whistling as they cut at the air. The crowd applauds this warm-up with the same frenzy and adoration they just gave the Selected.
In a few seconds, Carter's backside will be humiliatingly struck, and Marlee's precious hands…
"No!" I cry. "No!"
"I think I'm going to be sick," Natalie whispers as Elise makes a weak moan into her guard's shoulder. But nothing stops.
I stand up and lunge toward Maxon's seat, falling over my father's lap.
"Maxon! Maxon, stop this!"
"You have to sit down, miss," my guard says, trying to wrangle me back into my chair.
"Maxon, I beg you, please!"
"It's not safe, miss!"
"Get off me!" I yell at my guard, kicking him as hard as I can. Try as I might, he holds on tight.
"America, please sit down!" my mother urges.
"One!" cries the man on the stage, and I see the cane fall on Marlee's hands.
She lets out the most pathetic whimper, like a dog that has been kicked. Carter makes no sound.
"Maxon! Maxon!" I yell. "Stop it! Stop it, please!" He hears; I know he does. I see him slowly close his eyes and swallow one time, as if he can push the sound out of his head.
"Two!"
Marlee's cry is pure anguish. I can't imagine her pain- and there are still thirteen more strikes to go.
"America, sit!" Mom insists. May is between her and Dad, her face averted, her cries almost as pained as Marlee's
"Three!"
I look at Marlee's parents. Her mother buries her head in her hands, her father's arms wrapped around her, as if he can protect her from everything they are losing in this moment.
"Let me go!" I yell at my guard to no avail. "MAXON!" I scream. My tears are blurring my vision, but I can see him enough to know he hears me.
I look at the other girls. Shouldn't we do something? Some appear to be crying, too
Elise is bent over, a palm pressed to her forehead, looking as if she might pass out. No one seems angry though. Shouldn't they be?
"Five!"
The sound of Marlee's shrieks will haunt me for the rest of my life. I've never heard anything like it. Or the sickening echo of the crowd cheering it on, as if this is merely entertainment. Or the crying of the girls around me, accepting it. Or Maxon's silence, allowing this to happen. I think back to his note, begging me to trust him. But how could I trust him, after this? What kind of plan could possibly make this better?
The only thing that gives me any sort of hope is Carter. Even though he is sweating from the trauma and shaking with pain, he manages to pant out comforting words to Marlee.
"It'll be… over soon," he manages.
"Six!"
"Love… you," he stammers.
I can't handle this. I try to claw at my guard, but his thick sleeves protect him. I shriek as he grips me tighter.
"Get your hands off my daughter!" Dad yells, pulling the guard's arms. With that space, I wiggle myself until I am facing him and thrust my knee up as hard as I can.
He lets out a muffled cry and falls back, my dad catching him on the way down.
I hop over the railing, clumsy in my dress and heeled shoes.
"Marlee! Marlee!" I scream, running as quickly as I can. I almost get up to the steps; but two guards catch up with me, and that is a fight I can't win.
From the angle behind the stage, I see that they exposed Carter's backside, and his skin is already torn, pieces hanging sickeningly. Blood is trickling down, ruining what used to be his dress pants. I can't imagine the state of Marlee's hands.
The thought sends me into an even deeper hysteria. I scream and kick at the guards, but all that accomplishes is the loss of one of my shoes.
I am dragged inside as the man cries out for the next strike, and I don't know whether to be grateful or ashamed. On the one hand, I don't have to see it all; on the other, I feel like I've abandoned Marlee in the worst possible moment of her life.
If I were a true friend, wouldn't I do better than that?
"Marlee!" I scream. "Marlee, I'm sorry!" But the crowd is so frenzied, and she is crying so much, I don't think she hears me.