A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know what day of the week it is anymore. I'll get it figured out sometime (maybe). I'm getting caught up on PMs today, so be on the lookout for that! Also, this is the chapter where we overtake my other full-length fanfic that I finished last summer (it only took me 7 years for that one...) which is crazy! We're less than halfway through this one, so it's definitely going to be awhile before it's done, but it'll get there eventually. It's insane thinking about where I was when I started that one and where I am now. Y'all are the best and you mean the world!
My maids are gifts. They don't say anything about when I call them up later and later, and they don't say anything about the lack of sleep causing some dark circles under my eyes. They merely pull out the concealer to touch me up, and no one is the wiser. I do mention Kriss' comment to them though; we all laugh about it together.
I watch them this morning, excited to see their reaction when I can finally tell them that Maxon and I are engaged. I am surprised to notice a tension among them. Mary seems mostly fine, maybe a little worried, but Anne and Lucy look like they are deliberately avoiding eye contact with each other and not speaking unless they absolutely have to.
I can't begin to guess at what is happening, and I don't know if it is my place to ask. They never intrude on my sadness or anger. I suppose it is only right that I do the same for them.
I try not to let the silence bother me as they do my hair and dress me for a long day in the Women's Room. I ache to put on a pair of the luxurious pants that Maxon gave me for Saturday use, but this seems like a bad time for that. If I'm heading down, I want to be a lady about it. Points to me for effort.
As I settle in for another day of tea and books, the others chat about the night before. Well, all of them except for Celeste, who has more gossip magazines waiting to be read. I wonder if the one in her hands says anything about me.
I debate trying to take it, but Silvia comes in with a thick pile of paper in her arms. Great. More work.
"Good morning, ladies!" she croons. "I know you usually wait for guests on Saturdays, but today the queen and I have a special assignment for you."
"Yes," the queen says, walking over to us. "I know this is short notice, but we have visitors coming next week. They will be touring the country and stopping by the palace to meet all of you."
"As you know, the queen is usually in charge of receiving such important guests. You all saw how she graciously hosted our friends from Swendway." Silvia gestures over to Queen Amberly, who smiles demurely.
"However, the visitors from the German Federation and Italy are even more important that the Swendish royal family. And we thought this visit would be an excellent exercise for you all, especially since we've been so focused on diplomacy lately. You will work in teams to prepare a reception for your respective guests, including a meal, entertainment, and gifts," Silvia explains.
I gulp as she continues.
"It is very important for us to maintain the relationships we have as well as to form new ones with other countries. We have outlines of proper etiquette for interacting with these guests, as well as guides for what's typically frowned on when hosting events for them. However, the actual execution is in your hands."
"We wanted to make it as fair as possible," the queen says. "I think we've done a good job of putting you all on the same field. Celeste, Natalie, and Elise, you will be organizing one reception. Kriss and America, you will take care of the other. And since you have one less person, you will have one more day. Our visitors from the German Federation will be coming on Wednesday, and we'll be receiving guests from Italy on Thursday."
There is a short moment of silence as we take that in.
"You mean we have four days?" Celeste screeches.
"Yes," Silvia says. "But a queen has to do this work alone and sometimes on far less notice."
The panic is palpable.
"Can we have our papers, please?" Kriss asks, holding out her hand. Instinctively, I put mine out as well. Within seconds we are devouring the pages.
"This is going to be tough," Kriss says. "Even with the extra day."
"Don't worry," I assure her. "We're going to win."
She laughs nervously. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because," I say decisively, "there's no way I'm letting Celeste do better than me."
~PtG~
It takes two hours to read through the packet and one more to digest everything it says. There are so many different things to consider, so many details to plan. Silvia claims she will be at our disposal, but I have a feeling asking for help will make her think we can't do a good enough job on our own, so that's out.
The setup is going to be challenging. We aren't allowed to use red flowers because they are associated with secrecy. We aren't allowed to use yellow flowers because they are associated with jealousy. And we aren't allowed to use purple anything because that color is associated with bad luck.
The wine, food, everything has to be opulent. Luxury isn't seen as showing off; it is meant to make a statement about the palace. If it isn't good enough, our guests might leave unimpressed and completely unwilling to meet with us again. On top of all that, the regular things we are supposed to have earned- speaking clearly, proper table manners, and the like- have to be adapted to a culture of which neither Kriss nor I have any knowledge besides what was printed packets.
It is incredibly intimidating.
Kris and I spend the day taking notes and brainstorming while the others do the same thing at a nearby table. As the afternoon wears on, our groups start complaining back and forth about who has the worse situation, and after a while it is actually kind of funny.
"You two at least get another day to work," Elise says.
"But Illéa and the German Federation are already allies. The Italians might hate everything we do!" Kriss worries.
"Do you know we're supposed to wear dark colors for ours?" Celeste complains. "It's going to be a very… rigid event."
"We probably don't want it to be floppy anyway," Natalie says, doing a little shimmy. She laughs at her own joke, and I smile before moving on.
"Well, ours is supposed to be super festive. And you all have to wear your best jewelry," I instruct. "You need to make a great first impression, and appearances are very important."
"Thank goodness I'll get to look good at one of these stupid things." Celeste sighs, shaking her head.
In the end, it's clear we are all struggling. With all the secrets flying around, I feel strangely comforted to know we are all in this together. But it would be a lie to say that paranoia doesn't take over before the end of the day, I am convinced that one of the other girls- Celeste in particular- might try to sabotage our reception.
"How loyal are your maids?" I ask Kriss at dinner.
"Very. Why?"
"I wonder whether we should store some things in our room instead of in the parlor. You know, so the other girls don't try to take our ideas."
She nods. "That's a good idea. Especially since we go second, and it would look like we copied that."
"Exactly."
"You're so smart, America. It's no wonder Maxon liked you so much." And she goes back to eating.
Her casual use of the past tense puzzles me. I know that Maxon has been spending more time with her during the day, since she makes sense to be the runner up, so to speak, but I didn't realize they were so comfortable with each other that she thought he didn't even like me anymore.
I shake the thoughts out of my head. Her opinion on Maxon's and my relationship is irrelevant. I look up to Maxon and meet his eyes. He smiles warmly, then we both continue eating. Besides, I comfort myself, it's over already; they just don't know it yet.
~PtG~
The piercing scream of a siren jerks me from my sleep. The sound is so foreign, I can't even begin to process what it is. All I know is that my heart is pounding in my chest from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
Before a second has passed, the door to my room flies open and a guard runs in.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it," he repeats.
"Huh?" I say groggily as he races over to me.
"Get up, Mer!" Aspen urges, and I do as he says. "Where are your damn shoes?"
Shoes. So I'm going somewhere. Only then does the sound make sense to me. Maxon told me once before that there is an alarm for when the rebels come, but it was thorough;y dismantled in a recent attack. It must have been repaired.
"Here," I say, finding and slipping my feet into them. "I need my robe" I point to the end of the bed and Aspen grabs it, trying to open it for me. "Don't bother, I'll carry it."
"You need to hurry," he says, "I don't know how close they are."
I nod, heading for the door, Aspen's hand on my back. Before I hit the hallway, he jerks me toward him. He looks like he's going to kiss me, and I step back. "No, Aspen."
His eyes harden, hiding his pain. "Go. Now."
I nod, wishing there was something I could say, but there isn't. I dash for the secret passage hidden at the end of the hall. Before I push the wall, I look behind me and catch sight of Aspen's back as he runs around the corner.
There is nothing I can do but run myself, so I do. As quickly as I can manage, I make my way down the steep, dark stairs to the safe room reserved for the royal family.
Maxon told me once that there are two kinds of rebels: Northern and Southern. The Northern ones are pesky, but the Southern ones are deadly. I hope whatever I am running from is more interested in disturbing than killing.
As I descend the stairs, the cold sets in. I want to throw on my robe, but I'm worried I might trip. I feel steadier as the light of the safe room comes into view. I leap from the last step , and I can see a figure standing out among the shapes of the guards. Maxon. Though it is late, he is still in his suit pants and shirt, slightly rumpled but presentable.
"Am I the last?" I ask, pulling on my robe as I approach.
"No," he answers, pulling me into his arms. "Kriss is still out there. So is Elise."
I look behind me at the darkened corridor that seems to go on forever. In either direction, I can make out the skeletons of three or four stairways stemming from their secret origins in the palace above. They are empty.
I know his feelings for Kriss and Elsie are limited. But there is no mistaking the concern for them in his eyes. We look past each other, watching the stair as guards mill around the door, clearly anxious to close it.
"I need to spend most of my time with the other girls while we're down here," Maxon whispers in my ear. I nod and pull my robe tighter around myself. I already had my time with him, and he still needs to pretend to be interested in the rest of them. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Especially after Kriss' comment at dinner.
He gives me a sad smile, then gasps. "Elise."
I turn to see her thin figure coming down the stairs. Where is Kriss?"
"You should go inside," Maxon gently urges. "Silvia is waiting."
I nod, hating to leave his side. "See you soon."
I head into the room, with Elsie following right behind. As she walks in, I see she is crying. I put an arm around her shoulder, and she does the same to me, happy to have the company.
"Where were you?" I ask.
"I think my maid is sick. She was a little slow to help me. And then I was so frightened by the alarm, I got confused for a moment and couldn't remember where to go. I pushed on four different walls before I found the right one." Elise shakes her head at her forgetfulness.
"Don;t worry," I say, hugging her. "You're safe now."
She nods her head to herself, trying to slow her breathing. Of the five of us, she is easily the most delicate.
As we go deeper, I see the king and queen sitting close together, both of them in robes and slippers. The king has a small stack of papers on his lap, as if he is going to use the time down here to work. The queen has a maid massaging one of her hands, and they both wear serious expressions.
"What, no company this time?" Silvia jokes, drawing our attention to her.
"They weren't with me," I say, suddenly worried about the safety of my maids.
She smiles gently. "I'm sure they're fine. This way."
We follow her to a row of cots set up against an uneven wall. The last time I was in this place, it was clear that the people who maintained the room weren't prepared for the chaos of all the Selected girls down here. They've made progress since then, but it isn't completely up-to-date. There are six beds.
Celeste is curled up on the one closest to the king and queen, though we are still quite a ways from them. Natalie has settled in next to her and is braiding thin pieces of her own hair.
"I expect you to sleep. You all have a serious week ahead of you, and I can't have you planning if you're deliriously tired." Silvia leaves, probably to look for Kriss.
Elise and I both sigh I can't believe that are going to make us go through with the whole reception thing. Isn't this stressful enough? We let go of each other and make our way to neighboring cots. Elise is quick to tuck herself into the blankets, obviously worn out.
"Elise?" I say quietly. She peeks up at me. "If you need anything, let me know, okay?"
She smiles. "Thank you."
"Sure thing."
She rolls back over, and it looks like she is asleep within seconds. I know it's true when she doesn't turn over at the bustle of noise coming from the door. I glance back and see Maxon carrying Kriss into the safe room, with Silvia close by. Immediately after she is through, the door is sealed shut.
I narrow my eyes at Maxon cradling her to his chest. He notices and sighs softly. A tendril of doubt winds itself around my rib cage and knocks the breath out of me.
"I tripped," Kriss explains to Silvia, who is fretting over her. "I don't think I broke my ankle, but it really hurts."
"There are bandages in the back. We can at least wrap it," Maxon instructs.
Silvia walks away quickly, passing us as she goes hunting for bandages.
"Sleep! Now!" she orders.
I sigh, and I'm not the only one. Natalie takes it in stride, but Celeste seems very irritated. I check myself then. If my behavior is anything like hers, It needs to change. Though I don't want to, I crawl into my cot and face the wall.
I try not to think about Aspen fighting upstairs, or my maids maybe not making it to their hiding place fast enough. I try not to worry about the upcoming week, or the possibility of the rebels being Southern and trying to slaughter people above us as we rest. I try not to think about how cozy Kriss looked, perched in Maxon's arms and resting her head over his, but I do think about all of that. And it is so exhausting, I eventually find sleep on my cold, hard cot.
~PtG~
I don't know what time it is when I wake up, but it must be hours since we came to the safe room. I roll over, looking at Elise. She is sleeping peacefully. The king is reading his papers, whipping them through his hands so quickly he appears to be mad at them. The queen's head rests on the back of her chair. She looks even more beautiful when she sleeps.
Natalie is still asleep, or at least she looks that way. But Celeste is awake, propped up on an arm and looking across the room Her eyes hold a fire that she usually reserves for me. I follow her gaze over to the opposite wall, where she is watching Kriss and Maxon.
They sit side by side, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Kriss has her legs curled to her chest, looking as if she is trying to keep warm even though she is wearing a robe. Her left ankle is wrapped in gauze and doesn't appear to be bothering her at the moment. They speak quietly with smiles on their faces.
I don't want to watch, so I roll back over.
By the time Silvia taps me on the shoulder to wake me, Maxon is already gone. So is Kriss.