The One

by Kiera Cass

  I hid behind the bench and tried again. Shot after shot hit the door, but never in the same place. After a while, I got frustrated and stood up straight, hoping it would help. All I managed to do was get my arms cut by pieces of the door flying back at me.

  It wasn’t until I heard the hollow click that I realized I’d used all the bullets and was stuck. I threw down the gun and ran over to the door. I hit it with all the force of my body.

  “Move!” I rammed into it again. “MOVE!”

  I hit the door with my fists, accomplishing nothing. “No! No, no, no! I have to get out!”

  The door stood there, silent and severe, mocking my heartbreak with its stillness.

  I slid down to the floor, crying now that I knew there was nothing I could do. Aspen might be a lifeless body only feet away from me, and Maxon . . . surely by now he was gone.

  I curled my legs to my chest and rested my head against the door.

  “If you live,” I whispered, “I’ll let you call me your dear. I won’t complain, I promise.”

  And then I was left to wait.

  Every so often I’d try to guess at the time, though I had no way of knowing if I was right. Each sluggish minute was maddening. I’d never felt so powerless, and the worry was killing me.

  After an eternity, I heard the click of the lock. Someone was coming for me. I didn’t know if it was a friend or not, so I pointed the empty gun at the door. It would at least look intimidating. The door creaked open, and the light from the window glared in. Did that mean it was still the same day? Or was it the next? I held my aim though I had to squint to do so.

  “Don’t shoot, Lady America!” a guard pleaded. “You’re safe!”

  “How do I know that? How do I know you’re not one of them?”

  The guard looked down the hall, acknowledging an approaching figure. August stepped into the light, followed closely by Gavril. Though his suit was practically destroyed, his pin—which I now realized looked an awful lot like a North Star—still hung proudly on his bloody lapel.

  No wonder the Northern rebels knew so much.

  “It’s over, America. We got them,” August confirmed.

  I sighed, overwhelmed with relief, and dropped the gun.

  “Where’s Maxon? Is he alive? Did Kriss make it?” I asked Gavril before focusing again on August. “There was an officer; he brought me here. His name is Officer Leger; have you seen him?” The words tumbled out almost too quickly to be understood.

  I was feeling funny, light-headed.

  “I think she’s in shock. Take her to the hospital wing, quickly,” Gavril ordered, and the guard scooped me up easily.

  “Maxon?” I asked. No one answered. Or maybe I was gone by then. I couldn’t remember.

  When I woke up, I was on a cot. I could feel the stings of my many cuts now, but as I picked up my arm to inspect it, the cuts were all clean, and the larger ones were bandaged. I was safe.

  I sat up and looked around, and realized I was in a tiny office. I inspected the desk and the diplomas on the wall and discovered it was Dr. Ashlar’s. I couldn’t stay here. I needed answers.

  When I opened the door, I discovered why I’d been tucked away. The hospital wing was packed. Some of the less injured were placed two to a bed, and others were on the floor between them. It was easy to tell that the worst were in beds toward the back of the room. Despite the number of people, the space was remarkably quiet.

  I scanned the area, looking for familiar faces. Was it good not to find them here? What did that mean?

  Tuesday was in a bed, holding on to Emmica as they cried quietly. I recognized a few of the maids, but only vaguely. They nodded their heads at me as I passed, as if I somehow deserved it.

  I started losing hope as the crowd started to thin. Maxon wasn’t here. If he was, he’d have a swarm of people around him, jumping to meet his every need. But I’d been placed in a side room. Maybe he had, too?

  I saw a guard, and his face was scarred from what I couldn’t guess. “Is the prince down here somewhere?” I asked quietly.

  Solemnly, he shook his head.

  “Oh.”

  A bullet wound and a broken heart would seem like two different injuries. But I could feel myself bleeding out just as surely as Maxon had. No amount of pressure or stitching would ever fix this; nothing would ever stop the ache.

  I didn’t break into a scream, though it felt as if something similar was happening inside. I just let the tears fall. They didn’t wash anything away, but they felt like a promise.

  Nothing will ever replace you, Maxon. And I sealed our love away.

  “Mer?”

  I turned and saw a bandaged figure in one of the last beds in the wing. Aspen.

  My breathing hitched as I took unsteady steps toward him. His head was bandaged, and there was blood staining its way through. His chest was bare and bruised in several places, but the worst part was his leg. A thick cast was wrapped around the bottom, and several bandages were sloppily placed over gashes on his thigh. Wearing nothing but some shorts and a bit of a sheet over his other leg, it was easy to see how badly he’d been wounded.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “I’d rather not relive the details. I made it for a long time, and I took out maybe six or seven of them before one got my leg. The doctor says I’ll probably be able to walk on it, but I’ll need a cane. At least I’m alive.”

  A tear continued silently down my cheek. I was so grateful and scared and hopeless, I couldn’t help it.

  “You saved my life, Mer.”

  My eyes flew from his leg to his face.

  “The shot you took spooked that rebel and gave me just enough time to fire. If you hadn’t done it, he would have shot me in the back, and that would have been it. Thank you.”

  I wiped my eyes. “It was you who saved my life. You always have. It’s about time I started paying you back.”

  He smiled. “I do have a tendency for heroics, don’t I?”

  “You always wanted to be someone’s knight in shining armor.” I shook my head, thinking over everything he’d ever done for anyone he loved.

  “Mer, listen to me. When I said that I’d always love you, I meant it. And I think if we had stayed in Carolina, we would have gotten married, and we would have been happy. Poor, but happy.” He smiled sadly. “But we didn’t stay in Carolina. And you’ve changed. I have, too. You were right when you said that I’d never given anyone else a chance, and why would I have ever bothered except for all this happening?

  “It’s my instinct to fight for you, Mer. It took me a long time to see that you didn’t want me to do that anymore. But once I did, I realized I didn’t want to fight for you either.”

  I stared at him, stunned.

  “You’ll always have a piece of my heart, Mer, but I’m not in love with you anymore. I think sometimes that you still need me or want me, but I don’t know if that’s right. You deserve better than me being with you because I feel obligated.”

  I sighed. “And you deserve better than being someone I settle for.”

  He held out his hand to me and I took it. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “I’m not. It’s good to know you’re not mad at me. Even if he is dead, I still love him.”

  Aspen’s forehead creased. “Who’s dead?”

  “Maxon,” I breathed, ready to cry again.

  There was a pause. “Maxon’s not dead.”

  “What! But that guard said he wasn’t here and—”

  “Of course he’s not here. He’s the king. He’s recovering in his room.”

  I lunged to hug him, and he grunted at the impact of my embrace; but I was too happy to be cautious. Then the happy and sad news mixed together.

  I stepped back slowly. “The king died?”

  Aspen nodded. “The queen, too.”

  “No!” I shuddered, blinking again. She said I could call her Mom. What was Maxon going to do without her?

  “Actually, if it
hadn’t been for the Northern rebels, Maxon might not have made it either. They were really the tipping point.”

  “They were?”

  I could see the wonder and appreciation in his eyes. “We should have had rebels training us. They fight differently. They knew what to do. I recognized August and Georgia in the Great Room. They had backup outside the palace walls. Once they realized something was wrong, well, they already have a talent for getting into the palace quickly. I don’t know where they got the artillery from, but we’d all be gone without them.”

  I could hardly take in all this. I was still putting the pieces together when the opening door disturbed the quiet murmurs in the wing. A worried face surveyed the room, and though her dress was torn and her hair was tumbling down around her face, I recognized her immediately.

  Before I could call out to her, Aspen did. “Lucy!” he cried, sitting up. I knew the motion had to hurt him, but there was no sign of pain in his face.

  “Aspen!” She gasped and ran across the wing, hopping over people as necessary. She fell into his arms, kissing his face over and over. While he’d grunted in pain when I’d hugged him, it was clear that in this moment, Aspen wasn’t feeling anything but pure happiness.

  “Where were you?” he demanded.

  “Fourth floor. They’re only now reaching the rooms up there. I came as fast as I could. What happened?” Though she was usually so panicked after rebel attacks, Lucy seemed focused now, seeing only Aspen.

  “I’m fine. What about you? Do you need to see the doctor?” Aspen looked around, trying to find someone to help.

  “No, I don’t even have a scratch,” she promised. “I was just worried about you.”

  Aspen stared into Lucy’s eyes with absolute devotion. “Now that you’re here, everything’s right.”

  She stroked his face, careful not to disturb his bandages. He put a hand behind her neck and gently pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.

  No one needed a knight more than Lucy, and no one could protect her better than Aspen.

  They were so lost in each other; they didn’t notice me walk away, heading off to find the one person I really wanted to see.

  CHAPTER 32

  LEAVING THE HOSPITAL WING, I got my first look at the palace. It was hard to process the destruction. So much broken glass strewn across the floor, glittering hopefully in the sunlight. Ruined paintings, parts of the wall blown out, and menacing red stains on the carpets reminded me of how close we’d all been to death.

  I started up the stairs, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. As I passed from the second floor to the third, I noticed an earring on the floor. I couldn’t help but wonder if its owner was still alive.

  I made my way to the landing and saw a number of guards as I walked toward Maxon’s room. I supposed it was unavoidable. If I had to, maybe I’d call out to him. Maybe he’d tell them to let me pass . . . just like the night we met.

  The door to Maxon’s room was open, and people buzzed in and out, bringing in papers or taking away platters. Six guards lined the wall leading up to the door, and I braced myself for the brush-off. But as I got closer, one of the guards noticed me. He squinted, as if double-checking that I was who he thought I was. Beside him, another guard recognized me, and one by one they bowed, deeply and reverently.

  One of the guards by the door extended an arm. “He’s been waiting for you, my lady.”

  I tried to be someone deserving of the honor they were giving me. I stood taller as I walked, though my scratched arms and cut-off dress did nothing to help. “Thank you,” I said with a gentle nod.

  A maid rushed past as I went in. Maxon was on his bed, the left side of his chest padded with gauze under his plain cotton shirt. His left arm was in a sling, and he used his right to hold up the paper some adviser was explaining to him.

  He looked so normal there, dressed down, hair a mess. But at the same time, he looked like so much more than he had been before. Was he sitting a little taller? Had his face somehow become more serious?

  He was so clearly the king.

  “Your Majesty,” I breathed, falling into a low curtsy. Standing, I saw the quiet smile in his eyes.

  “Set the papers here, Stavros. Would everyone please leave the room? I need to speak with the lady.”

  Everyone circling around him bowed and headed toward the hall. Stavros quietly placed the papers on Maxon’s bedside table, and as he passed, he winked at me. I waited until the door closed before I moved.

  I wanted to run to him, to fall into his embrace and stay there forever. But I moved slowly, worried that maybe he regretted his last words to me.

  “I’m so sorry about your parents.”

  “It doesn’t seem real yet,” he said, motioning that I should sit on the bed. “I keep thinking that Father is in his study, and Mom’s downstairs, and any minute one of them will come in here with something for me to do.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know you do.” He reached out and put his hand on mine. I took that as a good sign and held his hand back. “She tried to save him. A guard told me a rebel had my father in his sights, but she ran behind him. She went down first, but they got Father immediately after.”

  He shook his head. “She was always selfless. To her very last breath.”

  “You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re a lot like her.”

  He made a face. “I’ll never be quite as good as her. I’m going to miss her so much.”

  I rubbed his hand. She wasn’t my mother, but I would miss her as well.

  “At least you’re safe,” he said, not looking into my eyes. “At least there’s that.”

  There was a long stretch of silence, and I didn’t know what to say. Should I bring up what he said? Should I ask about Kriss? Would he even want to think about any of this now?

  “There’s something I want to show you,” he suddenly announced. “Mind you, it’s a bit rough, but I think you’ll still like it. Open the drawer here,” he instructed. “It should be on the top.”

  I pulled out the drawer in his bedside table, noticing a pile of typed papers right away. I gave Maxon a questioning look, but he just nodded toward the writing.

  I started reading the document, trying to process what it said. I got to the end of the first paragraph and then reread it, sure I was mistaken.

  “Are you . . . you’re going to dissolve the castes?” I asked, looking up to Maxon.

  “That’s the plan,” he answered, smiling. “I don’t want you to get too excited. This will take a long time to do, but I think it will work. You see,” he said, turning the pages of the vast file and pointing to a paragraph. “I want to start from the bottom. I’m planning on eliminating the Eight label first. There’s a lot of construction we need to do; and I feel like, with a little bit of work, the Eights could be absorbed into the Sevens. After that, it gets tricky. There’s got to be a way to get rid of the stigmas that come along with the numbers, but that’s my goal.”

  I was awestruck. I’d only ever known a world in which I wore my caste like a piece of clothing. And here I was, holding something saying that those invisible lines we’d drawn between people could finally be erased.

  Maxon’s hand touched mine. “I want you to know that this is all your doing. Since the day you called me into the hallway and told me about being hungry, I’ve been working on this. It was one of the reasons I got so upset after you did your presentation; I had a quieter way of reaching the exact same goal. But of all the things I wanted to do for my country, this would have never crossed my mind if I hadn’t known you.”

  I took in a breath and gazed at the pages again. I thought over the years of my life, so short and fast. I’d never expected to do more than sing in the background of people’s house parties and maybe get married one day. I thought about what this would mean for the people of Illéa, and I was beside myself. I felt both humbled and proud.

  “There’s something el
se,” Maxon said hesitantly as I continued to take in the words in front of me. Then suddenly, on top of the papers, Maxon slid over an open box with a ring resting in it, shining in the light cascading through his windows.

  “I’ve been sleeping with that darn thing under my pillow,” he said, sounding playfully irritated. I looked up to him, not saying anything, as I was still too stunned to speak. I was sure he could read the questions in my eyes, but he had his own to address. “Do you like it?”

  A web of thin gold vines crawled up, forming the circle of the ring, holding at the top two gems—one green, one purple—that kissed at the crown of it. I knew the purple one was my birthstone, so the green one must be his. There we were, two little spots of light growing together, inseparable.

  I meant to speak and opened my mouth several times to try. All I could manage to do was smile, blink back my tears, and nod.

  Maxon cleared his throat. “Twice now I’ve tried to do this on a grand scale and failed spectacularly. As it is, I can’t even get on one knee. I hope you won’t mind if I just speak to you plainly.”

  I nodded. I still couldn’t find a word in my entire body.

  He swallowed and shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I love you,” he said simply. “I should have told you a long time ago. Maybe we could have avoided so many stupid mistakes if I had. Then again,” he added, beginning to smile, “sometimes I think it was all those obstacles that made me love you so deeply.”

  Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, balancing on my lashes.

  “What I said was true. My heart is yours to break. As you already know, I’d rather die than see you in pain. In the moment I was hit, when I fell to the floor sure my life was ending, all I could think about was you.”

  Maxon had to stop. He swallowed, and I could see he was as close to tears as I was. After a moment, he continued.

  “In those seconds, I was mourning everything I’d lost. How I’d never get to see you walk down an aisle toward me, how I’d never get to see your face in our children, how I’d never get to see streaks of silver in your hair. But, at the same time, I couldn’t be bothered. If me dying meant you living”—he did his one-shoulder shrug again—“how could that be anything but good?”