A/N: Hello! Not much to say today (actually), but two quick things! One, I have a beta now! The lovely LadyMadisonSchreave has agreed to fix my typos and help me come up with ideas, and it's only been two days, but it's GREAT. She's awesome. Secondly, I've decided to do a series of outtakes from Maxon's POV! I have 4 ideas for them (Maxon picking America's ring and necklace, Maxon in New Asia, and two that I'm not telling you yet, because #spoilers), but if you ever have any, throw them my way! I'm not a huge fan of doing the same exact scene, just from someone else's POV, so ideally it'd be things that happen off-screen. If enough of you want the same scene, though, I'll definitely consider it! Y'all are thebomb. com :)
"What do you expect me to do about it, America?" he demands, more than a little frustrated.
"I don't know," I hiss back to him. "I'm sorry I don't respond well to my fiancé cuddling with other girls in front of me!"
"Shh!" Maxon gestures wildly to everyone else in the gardens. A maid escorted me here this morning after I dressed; everyone, even the king and queen, are working outside today.
"Oh please," I say with an eye roll, crossing my arms over each other. "They can't hear us, I'm not stupid."
"I would have said the same, but you are behaving irrationally," Maxon says through gritted teeth. "We knew this was going to happen, and I told you I would be with them last night. She could barely walk when she got to the doors, of course I carried her in!"
"I'm positive one of the guards offered to do it, Maxon, but you volunteered as always. What, do you need a backup in case you decide I'm not worth the effort?"
Maxon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You know that's not what's going on, America Singer. Neither of us got much sleep last night, and we both have work to do. I'll talk to you later."
Maxon storms off to join his father at a table with some advisors, though once he gets closer to everyone, he straightens his suit jacket and calms down.
I put my hands on my hips and close my eyes. I know he's right. I'm being a little irrational, but come on. He spent all night with her, now I'm just supposed to carry on like nothing happened? Not a chance, but apparently I don't have a choice.
I take a few deep breaths and join Kriss at our table under a tent across the lawn. The other girls are situated on the opposite side of the lawn, and the queen is in between all of us, reading over papers and pointing out details to maids.
Kriss has her leg elevated on a chair, engrossed in a dossier about Italian etiquette. I drop into my seat, pulling papers towards me.
"Is everything alright?" she asks me nonchalantly, as if she isn't hanging off my every word.
I rub my temples, leaning against the table on my elbows. I realize what I'm doing, though, and sit up before Silvia can come correct me.
"Not really, but I don't want to talk about it," I say.
"Okay. I think I figured out how to do our flowers."
"Oh. Good." I can't get the image of her and Maxon curled together out of my head. I glance up at Maxon. He's trying to look busier than he really is. Anyone really watching could see how the king pretends not to hear his comments. I don't understand that. If the king is worried about Maxon being a good leader, the thing to do is to truly instruct him, not keep him from doing anything because he worries his son will make a mistake.
Maxon shuffles some papers and looks up. He catches my eye and waves. As I decide whether or not to wave back, I see Kriss wave enthusiastically back from the corner of my eye. I bite my tongue, and I don't know who or what I'm mad at, but I'm definitely mad.
"Isn't he handsome?" Kriss sighs.
"Sure."
"I keep imagining how children would look with his hair and my eyes." I almost slap her, and my fingernails bite into my palms as I resist the impulse.
"How's your ankle?"
"Oh, she says with a sigh. "It hurts a little, but Doctor Ashlar says I'll be fine by the reception."
"That's good," I say, finally looking up at her. "Wouldn't want you hobbling around when the Italians come." I'm trying to sound friendly, but I can tell she is questioning my tone.
She opens her mouth to speak but then quickly looks away. I follow her gaze and see that Maxon is heading over to the refreshment table the butlers set up for us.
"I'll be right back," she says quickly, and limps toward Maxon faster than I would think possible.
I can't help but watch. Celeste walks over, too, and they are all talking quietly as they pour water or grab finger sandwiches. Celeste says something, and Maxon laughs. It looks like Kriss is smiling, but she is clearly too bothered by Celeste interrupting her time to be genuinely amused.
Maxon glances over to see me watching, then turns back to the two girls fawning over him. He smiles at Celeste and offers Kriss his arm, supporting her weight a little.
If only Aspen didn't hate me right now. He was mostly kind last night, which I appreciate, but I think not letting him kiss me hurt him more than he let on.
I'm almost grateful for Celeste at the moment. She may be a hundred things that irritate me, but she is also impossible to intimidate. I can use some of that.
The king bellows something to one of his advisors, and my head snaps in his direction. I miss exactly what he said, but he sounds irritated. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Aspen, walking his rounds.
I can't help but wonder what he went through last night that led to the slight limp in his step and the bandaged gash by his eye. I want to go over to him and ask, both to irritate Maxon and because I genuinely want to know. Just as I am debating whether there is a way to do that inconspicuously, a call rings out from just inside the palace doors.
"Rebels!" a guard yells. "Run!"
"What?" another guard calls back, confused.
"Rebels! Inside the palace! They're coming!"
The guard's words make the threat on the walls this morning flash through my mind: WE'RE COMING.
Things start moving very quickly. The maids usher the queen toward the far side of the palace, some pulling her hands to make her move faster while others raced dutifully behind her, blocking her from an attack.
Celeste's red dress blazes as she follows the queen, rightly assuming that is probably the safest way to go. Maxon scoops up Kriss and her injured food, turning to place her in the arms of the nearest guard, who happens to be Aspen.
"Run!" he screams at Aspen. "Run!"
Aspen, faithful to a fault, bolts, carrying Kriss like she weighs nothing at all.
"Maxon, no!" she cries over Aspen's shoulder.
I hear a loud pop from inside the opened doors to the palace and scream. As several of the guards reach under their dark uniforms and pull out guns, I understand what that sound is. Two more pops come, and I find myself frozen, watching the flurry of bodies move around me. The guards push people to the sides of the palace, urging them to move out of the way as a swarm of people in rugged pants and sturdy jackets race outside, running with backpacks or satchels packed to the brim. Another shot comes.
Finally realizing I need to move, I turn and run without thinking.
With the rebels flooding out of the palace, the logical thing to do seems to be to run away from them. But that puts me heading toward the great forest with a pack of vicious people chasing me. I run and slip a few times in the flats I am wearing, and I consider taking them off. In the end, I decide slippery shoes are better than none.
"America," Maxon calls. "No! Come back!"
I risk peeking back and see the king grabbing Maxon by the neck of his suit jackets, pulling him away. I can see the terror in Maxon's eyes as he stares after me. Another shot is fired.
"Stand down!" Maxon shrieks. "You'll hit her! Cease fire!"
There are some more shots, and Maxon continues to scream his orders until I am too far away to make them out. I run through the open field and realize then that I am alone in this. Maxon is being held back by his father, and Aspen is doing his duty. Any guard coming for me will be behind the rebels. All I can do is run for my life.
Fear makes me fast, and I am surprised by how well I avoid the undergrowth once I hit the woods. The ground is dry, parched from months with no rain, and it is solid. I vaguely feel my legs getting scratched, but I don't slow down to see how bad it is.
I am sweating, and my dress is sticking to my chest as I move. It is cooler in the woods, and steadily getting darker, but I am hot. At home I sometimes run for fun, to play with Gerad or just to feel the ache of exertion, but I've been sitting in the palace for months, eating real food for the first time, and I can feel it now. My lungs burn, and my legs are throbbing. Still, I run.
After I get far enough in the woods, I look over my shoulder to check how close the rebels are. I can't hear them with the blood pounding in my ears, and when I check. I can't see them either. I decide this is my best chance to hide, before the rebels catch sight of my bright dress in the dim woods.
I don't stop until I see a tree that looks wide enough to conceal me. Once I am behind it, I notice that there is a branch low enough to grab and climb, too. I take off my shoes, tossing them away, hoping they won't lead the rebels right to me. I climb, though not very high, and turn my back to the tree, making myself as small as I can.
I focus hard on slowing my breath, fearing the sound will give me away. But even after I do that, for a moment it is quiet. I figure I've lost them. I don't move, waiting to be sure. Seconds later, I hear a loud rustling.
"We should have come at night," someone- a girl- huffs. I flatten myself against the tree, praying nothing will snap.
"They wouldn't have been outside at night," a man replies.
They're still running, or trying to, and it sounds like they are having a rough go of it.
"Let me carry some," he offers. It sounds like they are getting very close.
"I can do it."
I hold my breath and watch as they pass right under my tree. Just when I think I might be safe, the girl's bag rips, and a pile of books falls to the forest floor. What is she doing with so many books?
"Damn it," she curses, getting down on her knees. She is wearing a denim jacket with some kind of flower embroidered on it over and over again. She has to be burning in that.
"Told you to let me help."
"Shut up!" The girl pushes at the boy's legs. In that playful gesture, I can see how much affection there is between them.
In the distance, someone whistles.
"Is that Jeremy?" she asks.
"Sounds like him." he bends and picks up a few books.
"Go get him. I'll be right behind you."
He looks unsure but agrees, kissing her forehead before jogging off.
The girl gathers the rest of her books, using a knife to cut the strap off her bag and bind them together.
I feel a sense of relief as she rises, assuming she will start moving. But she flips her hair back out of her face, raising her eyes to the sky.
And she sees me.
No amount of quiet or stillness will help me now. If I scream, will the guards come? Or are the rest of the rebels too close for that to matter?"
We stare at each other. I wait for her to call the others, hoping that whatever they have planned for me isn't too painful.
But she doesn't make a sound except to let out a single quiet laugh, amused at our situation.
Another whistle sounds, slightly different from the last, and we both glance in the direction it came from before looking at each other again.
And then, in the least expected of all possible gestures, she swings one leg behind the other, lowering herself in a graceful curtsy. I look on, completely stunned. She rises, smiling, and runs off toward the whistle. I watch her back as a hundred tiny sewn flowers disappear into the brush.
When it feels like more than an hour has passed, I decide I can get down. I stand at the foot of the tree, realizing I don't know where my shoes are. I walk around the base of the tree, trying to locate the little white slippers to no avail. Giving up, I decide I should make my way back to the palace.
Looking around, it becomes clear that that isn't going to happen. I am lost.
~PtG~
I sit at the base of the tree, legs folded up to my chest, waiting. Mom always said that is what we are supposed to do when we are lost. It gives me time to think about what happened.
How is it possible that rebels got into the palace two days in a row? Two days in a row! Have things gotten so much worse on the outside since the Selection began? Based on what I saw back in Carolina and experienced at the palace, this is unprecedented.
My legs have a bunch of scratches on them, and now that I'm not hiding, I can finally feel the sting. There is also a small bruise halfway up my thigh that I'm not sure how I acquired. I am thirsty; and as I settle down, I feel worn-out from the emotional, mental, and physical strain of the day. I let my head rest against the tree, closing my eyes. I don't intend to fall asleep, but I do.
Sometime later I hear the distinct sound of footsteps. My eyes flash open, and the forest is darker than I remember. How long was I asleep?
My first instinct is to climb back up the tree, and I run around to the other side stepping on the torn remnants of the rebel girl's bag. But then I hear people calling my name.
"Lady America!" someone says. "Where are you?"
"Lady America?" another voice calls. Then, after a while, in a loud voice, a command comes. "Be sure to look everywhere. If they've killed her, they might have hung her or tried to bury her. Pay attention."
"Yes, sir," men chorus back.
I peek around the tree, focusing on the sound. I squint, trying to make out the figures moving through the shadows, unsure they can really be here to save me. But one guard, his slight limp not slowing him at all, makes me finally sure that I am safe.
A small patch of fading sunlight falls across Aspen's face, and I run. "I'm here!" I yell. "I'm over here!"
I run straight into Aspen's arms, for once not caring about who saw or if he's mad at me. "Thank goodness," he breathes into my hair. Then, turning to the other figures, "I've got her! She's alive!"
Aspen bends down and picks me up, cradling me. "I was terrified we were going to find your body somewhere. Are you hurt?"
"My legs a little."
A second later, several guards are surrounding us, congratulating Aspen on a job well done.
"Lady America," the one in charge says, "are you injured at all?"
I shake my head. "Just some scratches on my legs."
"Did they try to hurt you?"
"No. They never caught up to me."
He looks a bit shocked. "None of the other girls could have outrun them, I don't think."
I smile, finally at ease. "None of the other girls is a Five."
Several of the guards chuckle, Aspen included.
"Good point. Let's get you back. Leger, give her to Weaver. No need to strain that knee more," the commander says.
"Sir," Aspen acknowledges, passing me over to another guard. I look up at Aspen, and I can't tell if he looks relieved or disappointed. Maybe a bit of both?
"I can walk, it's okay," I say, trying to hop to the ground.
"Lady America, you don't have any shoes," Weaver says with a smile. "Don't worry, I can handle it."
The commander goes in front of us and calls out to the other guards, "Be on the lookout. They could still be lingering in the area."
No one talks much as we walk back to the palace, and my mind drifts to the girl. She just looked… normal. She must be a Northerner. There was absolutely no aggression in her, only a drive to do her task. And there is no doubt that the attack last night was from the Southern rebels. Does that mean something, that the attacks weren't only back-to-back, but by different groups? Are the Northerners watching us, waiting for us to be this drained? Thinking about them spying on the palace so intently is a little frightening.
At the same time, the attack is almost funny. Did they simply walk in the front doors? How many hours were they in the palace collecting their treasures? Which reminds me. She had books, lots of them. Why?
I look forward, taking in the view as we approach the palace. It is glittering in the evening sun, with windows lit up on every story. I've never seen it like this. It is beautiful.
For some reason I think Maxon will be there, waiting by the back doors for me. He isn't. No one is. Weaver is instructed to take me to the hospital wing so Dr. Ashlar can tend to my legs while another guard goes off to tell the royal family I've been found alive. I smile wryly. The king will be disappointed.
Once Dr. Ashlar clears me, I beg him to let me sleep it off in my room, instead of in the hospital wing. He makes me promise to let a maid sit with me, in case something goes wrong, and I agree, albeit grudgingly. Anne wheels me to my room in a wheelchair, then helps me get into a nightdress. Maxon still doesn't come.
My homecoming is a non-event. I am in my room. Anne sits up in a chair by my window, but soon I forget about her and drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
~PtG~
I open my eyes, confused for a moment before remembering everything that happened earlier. Something woke me up, but I'm not sure what it was.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Maxon says in hushed tones. "You should go back to sleep." He is propped up in a chair by my bed, so close he could rest his head by my elbow if he wants to.
"What time is it?" I rub my eyes.
"Almost two."
"In the morning?"
Maxon nods. He watches me carefully, and I am suddenly very worried about how I look. I washed my face and pulled my hair up when I got back, but I am pretty sure I have a pillow imprinted on my cheek.
"Don't you ever sleep?" I ask.
"I do. I'm just on edge a lot."
"Occupational hazard?" I sit up a bit more. Things are still awkward between us, and I don't like it.
He gives me a thin smile. "Something like that."
There is a long pause as we sit there, unsure of what to say next.
"You don't have to sit there, if you don't want to," I say, finally.
"I want to. I told Anne that I would take over. I couldn't sleep anyway."
I look around my room, and I realize that he's right; Anne is gone.
"Oh. I didn't mean that, actually." The look of confusion on his face is adorable.
"America, someone needs to be with you."
"That's fine. I meant you can get up on my bed with me. If you want to, I mean, it's okay if you don't-"
Maxon smiles, truly smiles this time, and walks around to the other side of the bed to gently climb on. He takes my hand, and I lean my head on his shoulder.
I nearly fall asleep again, but Maxon speaks just before I do.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" I mumble, barely comprehending.
"Oh, no, go to sleep. We can talk about it later."
"No," I say, sitting up straighter and turning to face him. "Now I'm curious. Tell me."
"I just- I wanted to apologize for the way I acted with Kriss."
"Oh." I'm a little stunned. "It's okay. I know you can't shun them all."
"I mean I'm sorry for doing it to make you mad," Maxon admits. "I don't handle people telling me what to do very well. I didn't even really talk to you in the safe room, I was more affectionate with her in the gardens than I usually would be-"
"Okay, I don't need a list," I stop him, holding a hand up. "It's okay. It's just hard. When you spend time with them, it gives them hope, and Kriss talks to me about having children with you and I can't say anything." I make a face.
"She said what?" Maxon looks very confused. Again, it's a little adorable.
"She just drops these things like 'Oh, if I win I'm going to steal your maids' and 'I keep imagining kids with his hair and my eyes' and I want to tell her off, which obviously I can't."
Maxon laughs at my high-pitched impression of her. "I can see how that would be unnerving. It makes me uncomfortable too, if that helps."
I flop back down, wincing as it irritates all the aches and pains across my body.
"Every time you go on a date with one of them or have a little moment, they come back thinking they have a chance, and maybe I'm on my way out. I just can't wait for this to be over," I say, staring at the ceiling.
Maxon stretches out next to me, propping himself up with his head leaning against his hand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that part of it."
I shrug. "It's not like you could change it. Girls gossip, it's what they do."
Maxon brings my hand to his lips, lost in thought. "I want to say that I'll try not to encourage them as much, but I don't think I can."
"I know. I'm not mad at you-"
"What a refreshing change of pace," Maxon jokes.
"Well now I am." I poke his arm, a move that thoroughly loses its message when I curl into his shoulder. "Why weren't you there when I got back?" I ask quietly.
"I wanted to be," Maxon says quickly, shifting to look at me and stroking my cheek with his thumb, "but I couldn't- no one knew-"
"You didn't want to be waiting for my body," I say bluntly.
"Yes. That." Maxon looks pained, and I brush my hands through his hair, reaching up for a kiss.
"It's okay," I whisper after a moment. "I'm here, I'm fine."
Maxon rests our foreheads together and kisses the tip of my nose.
"Thank God for that."
A/N: PS- a third outtake is Maxon waiting for the guards to find America!