by Kiera Cass
“Thank goodness.” I sighed. I wanted to kiss her then and there. But she was breathing and in my arms, and that would have to be enough. “I’ve got her! She’s alive!” I called to the others, watching as the uniforms came toward us.
She was trembling a little, and I could tell she was stunned from the whole experience.
Injured leg or not, I was keeping her in my arms no matter what. I cradled her to me, and she put her hands behind my head, holding on. “I was terrified we were going to find your body somewhere,” I confessed. “Are you hurt?”
“My legs a little.”
I peeked down, and there were some bloody cuts. All things considered, we were lucky.
Markson stopped in front of us, trying to contain his happiness at finding her. “Lady America, are you injured at all?”
“Just some scratches on my legs.”
“Did they try to hurt you?” he continued.
“No. They never caught up to me.”
That’s my girl.
All the faces wore gleefully shocked expressions at this news, but Markson was by far the happiest. “None of the other girls could have outrun them, I don’t think.”
America let out a breath and smiled. “None of the other girls is a Five.”
I laughed, hearing the others do the same. Not every experience in the lowers was useless.
“Good point.” Markson gave me a pat on the shoulder while he looked at America. “Let’s get you back.” He led the way, shouting out more instructions.
“I know you’re fast and smart, but I was terrified,” I told her as we moved.
She put her mouth to my ear. “I lied to the officer.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered back.
“They did catch up with me, eventually.” I stared at her, wondering what was so bad that she didn’t want to confess it in front of the others. “They didn’t do anything, but this one girl saw me. She curtsied and ran off.”
Relief set in. Then confusion. “Curtsied?”
“I was surprised, too. She didn’t look angry or threatening at all. In fact, she just looked like a normal girl.” She paused a minute before adding, “She had books, lots of them.”
“That seems to happen a lot,” I told her. “No clue what they’re doing with them. My guess is kindling. I think it’s cold where they stay.”
It seemed more and more apparent that the rebels just wanted to ruin everything the palace had—its fine things, its walls, even its sense of safety—and taking the king’s prized possessions for the sake of having something to burn seemed like a big middle finger to the monarchy.
Had I not seen how cruel they could be firsthand, I would have found it funny.
The others were so close that we kept silent for the rest of the trip, but the walk felt much shorter with America in my arms. I wished it was longer. After today, I didn’t want her anywhere I couldn’t see her.
“The next few days might be busy for me, but I’ll try to come see you soon,” I whispered as the palace came into view. I’d have to give her back to them now.
She tilted in toward me. “Okay.”
“Take her to Doctor Ashlar, Leger, and you’re off duty. Good job today,” Markson said, slapping my back again.
The halls were still full of staff cleaning up from the first attack, and the nurses were so quick when we got to the hospital wing that I didn’t get to speak to America again. But as I laid her on the bed, looking at her tattered dress and sliced legs, I couldn’t help but think this was all my fault. When I traced the steps back to the very start, I knew that it was. I had to start making up for it.
America was sleeping when I crept into the hospital wing that night. She was cleaner, but her face still seemed worried, even at rest.
“Hey, Mer,” I whispered, rounding her bed. She didn’t stir. I didn’t dare sit, not even with the excuse of checking on the girl I rescued. I stood in the freshly pressed uniform I would only wear for the few minutes it took to deliver this message.
I reached out to touch her, but then pulled back. I looked into her sleeping face and spoke.
“I—I came to tell you I’m sorry. About today, I mean.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I should have run for you. I should have protected you. I didn’t, and you could have died.”
Her lips pursed and unpursed as she dreamed.
“Honestly, I’m sorry for a lot more than that,” I admitted. “I’m sorry I got mad in the tree house. I’m sorry I ever said to send in the stupid form. It’s just that I have this idea . . .” I swallowed. “I have this idea that maybe you were the only one I could make everything right for.
“I couldn’t save my dad. I couldn’t protect Jemmy. I can barely keep my family afloat, and I just thought that maybe I could give you a shot at a life that would be better than the one that I would have been able to give you. And I convinced myself that was the right way to love you.”
I watched her, wishing I had the nerve to confess this while she could argue back with me and tell me how wrong I’d been.
“I don’t know if I can undo it, Mer. I don’t know if we’ll ever be the same as we used to be. But I won’t stop trying. You’re it for me,” I said with a shrug. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to fight for.”
There was so much more to say, but I heard the door to the hospital wing open. Even in the dark, Maxon’s suit was impossible to miss. I started walking away, head down, trying to look like I was just on a round.
He didn’t acknowledge me, barely even noticed me as he moved to America’s bed. I watched him pull up a chair and settle in beside her.
I couldn’t help but be jealous. From that first day in her brother’s apartment—from the very moment I knew how I felt about America—I’d been forced to love her from afar. But Maxon could sit beside her, touch her hand, and the gap between their castes didn’t matter.
I paused by the door, watching. While the Selection had frayed the line between America and me, Maxon himself was a sharp edge, capable of cutting the string entirely if he got too close. But I couldn’t get a clear idea of just how near America was letting him.
All I could do was wait and give America the time she seemed to need. Really, we all needed it.
Time was the only thing that would settle this.
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE FAVORITE
What should be noted about Marlee’s story is that it took forever to title. We were back here hunting for something that encapsulated a super-awesome bestie who was an optimist and who fell in love, and, oh, my goodness, I love her!
It took a long time.
When we finally landed on The Favorite, it made so much sense. She was beloved by the people and America, and when it came to readers, she was the character you all most wanted to know about.
I felt very fortunate to get to tell her story because, as a writer, it gave me a very unique opportunity. I now have one scene in my books, a scene that actually pained me to write, told from three different perspectives. And I got the chance to tell her story in a slightly different way, which was also really cool as a storyteller.
It’s refreshing in a way. America’s love story was riddled with so many choices it was hard for her to move forward. Marlee’s love story is simple and lovely, and it explains something that I didn’t understand about her until writing The Heir: once she makes a decision, do not get in her way.
—Kiera
PART I
I PULLED THE TOP LAYERS of my dress a little tighter over my shoulders. Carter was quiet now, and his silence sent deeper chills through my body than the lack of heat in the palace cells did. It had been horrific to hear his grunts of pain as the guards beat the hope out of him, but at least then I knew he was breathing.
I shivered as I drew my knees closer to my chest. Another tear slid down my cheek, and I was grateful for it if only because it was warm on my skin. We knew. We knew it could end this way. And still we met. How could we have stopped?
I wondered h
ow we would die. A noose? A bullet? Something much more elaborate and painful?
I couldn’t help wishing that Carter’s silence meant he was already gone. Or if not, that he would go first. I’d rather have my last memory be of his death than suffer knowing that his last memory was of mine. Even now, alone in this cell, all I wanted was for his pain to stop.
Something stirred in the hallway, and my heart started racing. Was this it? Was this the end? I shut my eyes quickly, trying to hold back my tears. How had this happened? How had I gone from being one of the beloved members of the Selection to being labeled a traitor, awaiting my punishment? Oh, Carter . . . Carter, what have we done?
I didn’t think I was a vain person. Still, nearly every day after breakfast, I felt like I had to go back to my room and touch up my makeup before heading to the Women’s Room. I knew it was silly—Maxon wouldn’t even see me again until the evening. And at that point, of course, I’d reapply all my makeup and change my outfit anyway.
Not that anything I was doing seemed to be having much of an effect. Maxon was polite and friendly, but I didn’t think I had a connection with him the way some of the other girls did. Was there something wrong with me?
While I was certainly having a wonderful time in the palace, I kept feeling like there was something the other girls—well, some of them at least—understood that I didn’t. Before being Selected, I had thought that I was funny and pretty and smart. But now that I was in the middle of a bunch of other girls whose daily mission was to impress one particular boy, I felt dim and dull and less. I realized I should have paid much more attention to my friends back home who had always seemed to be in a rush when it came to finding a husband and settling down. They had spent their time talking about clothes, and makeup, and boys—while I had paid more mind to my tutors’ lectures. I felt like I had missed some important lesson, and now I was woefully behind.
No. I merely needed to keep trying, that was all. I’d memorized everything from Silvia’s history lesson earlier this week. I’d even written some of it down to keep handy if I forgot something. I wanted Maxon to think that I was smart and well-rounded. I also wanted him to think I was beautiful, so it felt like these trips to my room were necessary.
Did Queen Amberly do this? She seemed effortlessly stunning all the time.
I paused on the stairs to look at my shoe. One of the heels seemed to be snagging on the carpet. I didn’t see anything, so I moved on, eager to get to the Women’s Room.
I flicked my hair over my shoulder as I approached the first floor and went back to focusing on whether there was more that I was supposed to be doing. I really wanted to win. I hadn’t spent much time with Maxon, but he seemed kind and funny and—
“Ahh!” My heel snagged on the edge of the stair, and I fell with a smack onto the marble floor. “Ow,” I muttered.
“Miss!” I looked up to see a guard running toward me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Nothing injured but my pride,” I said, blushing.
“I don’t know how ladies walk in those shoes. It’s a miracle the whole lot of you don’t have broken ankles all the time.”
I giggled as he offered me his hand.
“Thank you.” I started brushing my hair back and smoothing out my dress.
“Any time. You’re sure you aren’t hurt?” He looked me over anxiously, searching for scrapes or cuts.
“My hip hurts a little where I fell, but otherwise I feel perfect.” Which was true.
“Maybe we should take you to the hospital wing, just to be safe.”
“No, really,” I insisted. “I’m fine.”
He sighed. “Would you do me a favor and go anyway? If you were hurt and I didn’t do something to help, I’d feel awful about it.” His blue eyes were terribly convincing. “And I’d be willing to bet the prince would want you to go.”
He made a fair point. “All right,” I ceded. “I’ll go.”
He grinned, his smile ever so slightly crooked. “Okay then.” He scooped me up, and I gasped in shock.
“I don’t think I need this,” I protested.
“All the same.” He started walking, so I couldn’t get down. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re Miss Marlee, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
He kept grinning, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ve been working hard to keep all of you straight. Honestly, I don’t think I was the best in training, and I have no idea how I ended up in the palace. But I want to make sure they don’t regret their decision, so I’m trying to at least learn names. That way if someone needs something, I’ll know who they’re talking about.”
I liked the way he spoke. It was as if he was telling a story, even though he was simply stating a fact about himself. His face was animated and his voice alight.
“Well, you’re already going above and beyond,” I encouraged. “And don’t be so down on yourself. I’m sure you were an excellent trainee if you were placed here. Your commanders must have seen great potential in you.”
“You’re too kind. Will you remind me where you’re from?”
“Kent.”
“Oh, I’m from Allens.”
“Really?” Allens was just east of Kent, above Carolina. We were neighbors in a way.
He nodded as he walked. “Yes, ma’am. This is the first time I’ve ever been out of my province. Well, second if you count training.”
“Same here. It’s kind of hard getting used to the weather.”
“It is! I’m waiting for fall to kick in, but I’m not sure they even have fall here.”
“I know what you mean. Summer’s nice, but not every day.”
“Exactly,” he said firmly. “Can you imagine how silly Christmas must look?”
I sighed. “It can’t possibly be as good without snow.” I meant that. I dreamed about winter all year. It was my favorite season.
“Nowhere close,” he agreed.
I didn’t know why I was smiling so much. Maybe it was because this conversation felt so easy. I’d never had an easy time speaking to a boy. Admittedly, I hadn’t had a lot of practice, but it was nice to think that maybe I didn’t need as much work as I had thought.
As we approached the entrance of the hospital wing he slowed.
“Would you mind putting me down?” I asked. “I don’t want them thinking I’ve broken a leg or something.”
He chuckled. “Not at all.”
He set me down and opened the door for me. Inside, a nurse was sitting at a desk.
The officer spoke for me. “Lady Marlee took a little tumble in the hall. Probably nothing, but we just wanted to be safe.”
The nurse stood right up, looking happy to have something to do. “Oh, Lady Marlee, I hope you’re not too hurt.”
“No, just a little sore here,” I said, touching my hip.
“I’ll check you out right away. Thank you so much, officer. You can go back to your post.”
The guard tipped his head to her and started to leave. Just before the doors closed, he gave me a wink and a crooked smile, and I was left there, grinning like an idiot.
I was pulled back to the present as the voices in the hallway grew louder. I heard the guards’ greetings overlapping one another as they all said one word: Highness.
Maxon was here.
I rushed to the small gated window of my cell. I watched as the door to the cell across the hallway—Carter’s cell—was opened, and Maxon was escorted in. I strained to hear what was said, but though I could make out Maxon’s voice, I couldn’t decipher any words. I also heard weak mutters in reply and knew they were from Carter. He was awake. And alive.
I simultaneously sighed and shivered, then lifted the tulle back over my shoulders.
After a few minutes Carter’s cell door opened again, and I watched as Maxon approached my cell. The guards let him in and shut the door behind him. He took one look at me and gasped.
“Good Lord, what have they done to you?” Maxon walked over,
unbuttoning his suit coat as he did.
“Maxon, I’m so sorry,” I cried.
He slid off his coat and wrapped it around me. “Did the guards tear your costume? Did they harm you?”
“I never meant to be unfaithful to you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
He lifted his hands to my cheeks. “Marlee, listen to me. Did the guards hit you?”
I shook my head. “One ripped my wings off when he was pushing me in the door, but they haven’t done anything else.”
He sighed, clearly relieved. What a good man he was, still caring about my well-being even after he’d found out about me and Carter.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.
Maxon’s hands dropped to my shoulders. “I’m only just starting to understand how pointless it is to fight being in love. I certainly don’t blame you for it.”
I stared into his kind eyes. “We tried to stop ourselves. I promise we did. But I love him. I’d marry him tomorrow . . . if we wouldn’t be dead by then.” I dropped my head, sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to be more of a lady about this, to accept my punishment with grace. But it felt so unfair, like everything was being taken away from me before it had even truly been mine in the first place.
Maxon began rubbing my back gently. “You’re not going to die.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“You haven’t been sentenced to death.”
I let out a rush of air and embraced him. “Thank you! Thank you so much! It’s more than we deserve!”
“Stop! Stop!” he insisted, tugging at my arms.
I stepped back, embarrassed for breaking protocol after everything else I’d done.
“You haven’t been sentenced to death,” he repeated, “but you still have to be punished.” He looked at the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Marlee, but you’re both going to be publicly caned in the morning.”
He seemed to be having trouble maintaining eye contact with me; if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he understood the pain we were in for. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I tried to prevent this, but my father is insistent that the palace needs to save face; and since the footage of you two together has already been circulated, there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.”
