Happily Ever After

by Kiera Cass

  “I’d love a loaf of bread!”

  I giggled at his enthusiasm. “But I wouldn’t even be able to use my own flour to make you one. It’d be stealing.”

  He kissed my cheek. “True. Besides, the last time I stole something, it was pretty big, and I got more than I deserved, and I’m already happy with what I have.”

  “You didn’t steal me. I’m not a teapot.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Maybe you stole me. Because I distinctly remember belonging to myself once, but now I’m all yours.”

  I smiled. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Don’t worry. I know it’s a difficult season, but this isn’t forever. And we have a lot to be grateful for this year.”

  “We do. I’m sorry I’m so down today. I just feel—”

  “Mallory!” I turned at the sound of my new name. “Where’s Mallory?” a guard asked, coming into the kitchen. He was with a girl I’d never seen before.

  I swallowed before answering. “Here.”

  “Come, please.”

  His voice was urgent, but the fact that he said please made me less frightened than I would have been otherwise. Each day I fretted more and more that someone would tell the king Carter and I were living secretly in his home. I knew that if that ever happened, the caning would seem like a prize instead of a punishment.

  I kissed Carter’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  As I passed the girl she gripped my hand. “Thank you. I’ll just wait here for you.”

  My forehead scrunched in confusion. “Okay.”

  “We’re all counting on absolute secrecy,” the guard said as he led me down the hall.

  “Of course,” I answered, though I still didn’t understand.

  We turned down the officers’ wing, and I became even more confused. Someone of my rank shouldn’t be allowed in this part of the palace. The doors were all closed except for one, where another officer was standing just outside. His face was calm, but his eyes were worried.

  “Just do your best,” someone said from inside the room. I knew that voice.

  I pulled myself around the threshold and took in the scene. America was lying on a bed, blood streaming out of her arm while her head maid, Anne, inspected the wound and the prince and these two guards watched on.

  Anne, not breaking her gaze, barked orders back to the guards. “Someone get some boiling water. We should have antiseptic in the kit, but I want water, too.”

  “I’ll get it,” I offered.

  America’s face perked up, and she met my gaze. “Marlee.” She started crying, and I could see she was losing her battle with the pain.

  “I’ll be right back, America. Hold tight!” I dashed to the kitchen, grabbing towels out of the cupboard. There was water already boiling in a pot, thank goodness, so I poured some in a pitcher. “Cimmy, you’re gonna want to top off this pot,” I called in a rush, moving too quickly for her to protest.

  Then I made my way to the spirits. The best liquor was kept close to the king, but sometimes we used brandy in recipes. I’d mastered a brandy pork chop, a chicken with brandy sauce, and a brandy–whipped cream for desserts. I grabbed a bottle, hoping it would help.

  I knew a thing or two about pain.

  I came back to Anne lacing thread through a needle and America trying to control her breathing. I put the water and towels behind Anne and walked over to the bed with the bottle.

  “For the pain,” I explained, lifting America’s head to help her drink. She attempted to swallow but coughed up more than she actually drank. “Try again.”

  I sat beside her, steering clear of her injured arm, and tipped the bottle again to her lips. She did a little bit better that time. After she swallowed, she gazed up at me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  My heart broke to see her look so scared, even though she was safe now. I didn’t know what she’d been through, but I was going to do my best to make it better. “I’ll always be here for you, America. You know that.” I smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. “What in the world were you doing?”

  I could see the debate in her eyes about answering. “It seemed like a good idea” was all she said.

  I tilted my head. “America, you are full of nothing but bad ideas,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Great intentions but awful ideas.”

  She pursed her lips as if to say she knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “How soundproof are these walls?” Anne asked the guards. This must be their room.

  “Pretty good,” one answered. “Don’t hear too much this deep in the palace.”

  Anne nodded. “Good. Okay, I need everyone in the hall. Miss Marlee,” she continued. It had been so long since anyone besides Carter had used my real name that I wanted to cry. I didn’t realize how much my name meant to me. “I’m going to need some space, but you can stay.”

  “I’ll keep out of your way, Anne,” I promised.

  The boys backed into the hallway, and Anne took over. As she spoke to America and prepared to stitch her up, I couldn’t help but be impressed with how calm she was. I’d always liked America’s maids, especially Lucy, because she was so, so sweet. But this made me see Anne in a whole new light. It seemed unfortunate that someone who was so capable in a crisis couldn’t do more than be a lady’s maid.

  Finally Anne began to clean out the wound, which I still couldn’t identify. America screamed into the towel in her mouth, and though I hated to do it, I knew I had to pin her down to keep her still. I climbed on top of her, focusing most of my effort on keeping her one arm straight.

  “Thank you,” Anne mumbled, pulling out a tiny black speck with some tweezers. Was that dirt? Pavement? Thank goodness Anne was thorough. The air alone could leave America with a nasty infection, but it was clear that Anne wasn’t going to let that happen.

  America screamed again, and I shushed her. “It’ll be over soon, America,” I said, thinking of the things Maxon had told me before I was caned and the words Carter had spoken as it was happening. “Think of something happy. Think about your family.”

  I could see she was trying, but it clearly wasn’t working. She was in too much pain. So I gave her more brandy and continued to give her sips until Anne was finished.

  When it was all over, I wondered if America would even remember any of this. After Anne wrapped the wound in a bandage, she and I stood back and watched America sing a children’s Christmas song while drawing imaginary pictures on the wall with her finger.

  Anne and I grinned at her sloppy movements. “Does anyone know where the puppies even are?” America asked. “Why are they so far away?”

  We covered our mouths, laughing so hard we were crying. The danger had passed, America was taken care of, and in her head there was a puppy emergency.

  “Let’s maybe keep this to ourselves,” Anne suggested.

  “Yes, I think so.” I sighed. “What do you think happened to her?”

  Anne tensed up. “I can’t begin to even guess what they were doing, but I can tell you for sure, that was a gunshot wound.”

  “Gunshot?” I exclaimed.

  Anne nodded. “A few inches to the left and she could have died.”

  I looked down at America, who was now poking her cheeks with her fingers, seemingly just so she could see how it felt.

  “Thank goodness she’s all right.”

  “Even if she wasn’t my lady, I think I’d still want her to be princess. I don’t know what I’d have done if we lost her.” Anne spoke not simply as a servant but as a subject. I knew exactly what she meant.

  I nodded. “I’m glad she had you tonight. I’ll go get the boys to take her back to her room.” I crouched beside America. “Hey, I’m going now. But you try not to break yourself again, all right?”

  She nodded sluggishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She definitely wouldn’t remember this.

  The guard who had come for me was standing at the end of the hall, keeping watch. The other
guard was sitting on the floor just outside the room, fidgeting with his hands while Maxon paced.

  “Well?” the prince asked.

  “She’s doing better. Anne took care of everything, and America is . . . Well, she had a lot of the brandy, so she’s a little out of it.” The lyrics of her Christmas song trilled through my head and I giggled. “You can go in now.”

  The guard on the floor was up in a flash, Maxon right behind him. I wanted to stop them, ask questions, but now probably wasn’t the time.

  I wearily walked back to our room, crashing now that the adrenaline had faded. As I approached, I saw Carter sitting in the hall outside our door.

  “Oh! You didn’t have to wait up for me,” I said quietly, hoping not to disturb anyone else.

  “I put her on our bed,” he said, “so I decided I’d wait out here.”

  “Put who on our bed?”

  “The girl from the kitchen. The one who was with the guard.”

  “Oh, right.” I sat next to him. “What did she want with me?”

  “It sounds like you’re training her. Her name is Paige, and based on the story she just told me, tonight was a really interesting night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He lowered his voice even further. “She was a prostitute. She said America found her and brought her here. So the prince and America were outside of the palace tonight. Do you have any idea why?”

  I shook my head. “All I know is, I was just helping Anne stitch up America’s gunshot wound.”

  Carter’s shocked expression mirrored my own. “What could they have done to put themselves in such danger?”

  I yawned. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling it was an effort to do good.”

  While running into prostitutes and shoot-outs didn’t sound entirely wholesome, if there was one thing I knew about Maxon, it was that he always strove to do what was right.

  “Come on,” Carter said. “You can sleep next to Paige. And I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “Nope. Where you go, I go,” I replied. I needed to be beside him tonight. So much was going through my head, and I knew he was my only safe place.

  I remembered thinking America was foolish for being upset with Maxon over my caning, but it made sense now. Even though he had my utmost respect, I couldn’t help feeling a little angry with him for letting her get hurt. For the first time I was able to see my caning through her eyes. I knew then just how much I loved her, and how much she must love me. If she felt half the worry I felt tonight, it was more than enough.

  It’d been a week and a half, and nothing felt quite normal yet. Everywhere I went, all the conversations still revolved around the attack. I was one of the lucky few. While others were ruthlessly murdered throughout the palace, Carter and I were safely tucked away in our room. He had been outside tending to the grounds when he heard gunshots, and the instant he realized what was happening, he raced into the kitchen and grabbed me, and we ran to our room. I helped him push our bed against the door, and we lay on it, adding to the weight.

  I trembled in his arms as the hours passed, terrified the rebels would find us and wondering if there was any way they would show us mercy. I kept asking Carter if we should have tried to escape from the palace grounds, but he was insistent that we were safer staying put.

  “You didn’t see what I saw, Marlee. I don’t think we would have made it.”

  So we’d waited, straining to hear the sounds of enemies and relieved when friends finally came down the hall, knocking on doors. It was a strange thing to think about, but when we’d gone into that room, Clarkson was the king, and when we came out, it was Maxon.

  I hadn’t been alive the last time the crown was handed over to a new king. This seemed like such a natural change for the country. Maybe because I’d always been happy to follow Maxon anyway. And, of course, the work Carter and I needed to do around the palace didn’t slow, so there wasn’t much time to stop and think about a new ruler.

  I was preparing lunch when a guard came into the kitchen and called my new name. The last time an escort came for me, America had been bleeding, so I was instantly on edge. And I wasn’t sure what it meant that Carter was already standing next to the guard, covered in sweat from being outside.

  “Do you know what this is about?” I whispered to Carter as the guard took us upstairs.

  “No. I can’t imagine we’re in trouble for anything, but the formality of being escorted by a guard is . . . off-putting.”

  I laced my hand in his, my wedding band twisting a bit in the process and lodging the knot between our fingers.

  The guard led us to the Throne Room, which was typically reserved for greeting guests or special ceremonies related to the crown. Maxon was sitting at the far end of the room, his crown affixed on his head. He looked so wise. My heart swelled to see America sitting on a smaller throne to his right, her hands folded in her lap. There was no crown for her yet—that would come on her wedding day—but she wore a comb in her hair that looked like a sunburst, and she was already so queenly.

  Off to one side, a group of advisers sat at a table, reviewing stacks of papers and furiously scribbling notes.

  We followed the guard down a blue carpet. He stopped right before King Maxon and bowed, then stepped aside, leaving Carter and me facing the thrones.

  Carter quickly dipped his head. “Your Majesty.”

  I followed with a curtsy.

  “Carter and Marlee Woodwork,” he began with a smile. My heart wanted to burst from hearing my full, true married name. “In light of your service to the crown, I, your king, am taking the liberty of undoing past punishments inflicted upon you.”

  Carter and I peeked at each other, unsure of what this meant.

  “Of course, your physical punishment cannot be changed, but other stipulations may. Am I correct that you were both sentenced to be Eights?”

  It was bizarre to hear him speak like this, but I supposed there were rules to follow. Carter spoke for both of us.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And is it also correct that you have been living in the palace, doing the work of Sixes for the past two months?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Is it also true that you, Mrs. Woodwork, served the future queen when she was physically unwell?”

  I smiled at America. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Is it also true that you, Mr. Woodwork, have loved and cherished Mrs. Woodwork, a former Elite, and therefore precious Daughter of Illéa, giving her the best she can possibly have under your circumstances?”

  Carter looked down. It was as if I could see him questioning whether he’d given me enough.

  I piped up again. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

  I watched my husband as he blinked back tears. He was the one who told me that the life we had now wasn’t forever, the one who encouraged me when the days were too long. How could he ever think he wasn’t enough?

  “In accordance with your service, I, King Maxon Schreave, am relieving you of your caste assignments. You are no longer Eights. Carter and Marlee Woodwork, you are the first citizens in Illéa to be casteless.”

  I squinted at him. “Casteless, Your Majesty?” I chanced a look at America and saw her beaming at me, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Correct. You are now at liberty to make two choices. First, you must decide whether you would like to continue to call the palace your home. Second, you can tell me what profession you would like to have. Whatever you decide, my fiancée and I will happily provide you with lodging and assistance. But, even after that, you will still have no caste. You will simply be yourselves.”

  I turned to Carter, completely gobsmacked.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “We owe him everything.”

  “Agreed.” Carter drew himself up and turned to Maxon. “Your Majesty, my wife and I would be happy to stay in your home and serve you. I can’t speak for her, but I love my position as a groundskeeper. I’m happy
to work outside, and I would do that for as long as I’m able. If the head position ever opens, I’d like to be considered for it, but I am otherwise content.”

  Maxon nodded. “Very well. And Mrs. Woodwork?”

  I looked at America. “If the future queen would have me, I’d love to be one of her ladies-in-waiting.”

  America bounced in her seat a little and pulled her hands up to her heart.

  Maxon looked at her as if she was the most adorable thing on the planet. “You might be able to tell that’s what she was hoping for.” He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, calling out to the men at the table. “Let it be recorded that Carter and Marlee Woodwork have been forgiven of their past crimes and now live under the protection of the palace. Let it further say that they have no caste and are above any such segregation.”

  “So recorded!” one man shouted back.

  As soon as he had finished speaking, Maxon stood and took off his crown, while America positively leaped out of her seat and ran down to throw her arms around me. “I hoped you would stay!” she sang. “I can’t do this without you!”

  “Are you kidding? How lucky am I to serve the queen?”

  Maxon joined us and gave Carter a firm handshake. “Are you sure about the groundskeeping? You could go back to guarding or even be an adviser if you like.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve never had a head for that kind of thing. I was always good with my hands, and that kind of work makes me happy.”

  “All right,” Maxon said. “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

  Carter nodded, wrapping an arm around me.

  “Oh!” America galloped back to her throne. “I almost forgot!” Picking up a small box, she returned to us, beaming.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  She smiled at Maxon. “I’d promised you I’d be at your wedding, and I wasn’t. And even though it’s a little late, I thought I could make up for it with a little present.”