The Selection Stories Collection

by Kiera Cass

  IT WAS ONLY A FEW hours later when Aspen knocked on my door. My maids merely curtsied and exited, knowing without instruction that whatever we would say needed to be private.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not too bad,” I said. “My arm throbs a bit and I have a headache, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

  I patted the space beside me on the bed. “Come sit.”

  He hesitated a bit. In my mind now, he was past suspicion. Maxon and my maids knew we communicated, and he’d led us out of the palace last night. Where was the risk? He must have thought the same thing, because he finally sat, choosing to keep a respectable distance just in case.

  “I’m a part of this, Aspen. I couldn’t have stayed behind. And there’s nothing wrong with me. I honestly owe that to you. You saved me last night.”

  “If I hadn’t been fast enough, or if Maxon hadn’t gotten you over that wall, you’d be a prisoner somewhere right now. I almost let you die. I almost let Maxon die.” He shook his head at the floor. “Do you know what would have happened to Avery and me if you two hadn’t made it back? Do you know what—” He paused, seeming to hold back tears. “Do you know what would have happened to me if we hadn’t found you?”

  Aspen looked at me, into me. The pain in his eyes was clear.

  “But you did. You found me, you protected me, and you got me help. You were amazing.” I put my hand on Aspen’s back, running it up and down, trying to comfort him.

  “I’m just realizing, Mer, that no matter what happens . . . there will always be a string tying you to me. I’ll never not worry about you. I’ll never not care about what you do. You’ll always be something to me.”

  I took my hand and laced it through his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know what you mean.”

  We stayed like that for a while, and I guessed that maybe Aspen was doing the same thing I was: replaying everything in his head. The way we avoided each other as children, the way we couldn’t stop looking at each other when we were older, a thousand stolen moments in the tree house—all the things that made us who we were.

  “America, I need to say something.” I lifted my head, and Aspen turned to face me, holding me gently by my arms. “When I told you that I would always love you, I meant it. And I . . . I . . .”

  He couldn’t manage to get the words out, and to be honest, I was grateful. Yes, I was tied to him, but we weren’t that couple in the tree house anymore.

  He gave a weak laugh. “I guess I need some sleep. I can’t think straight.”

  “You and me both. And there’s so much to think about.”

  He nodded. “Look, Mer, we can’t do that again. Don’t tell Maxon I’ll help him with something so risky, and don’t expect me to sneak you anywhere.”

  “I’m not sure it was worth it anyway. I can’t imagine Maxon would want to go again.”

  “Good.” He stood, then picked up my hand and kissed it. “My lady,” he said, his voice teasing.

  I smiled and squeezed his hand a little. And he did the same back. As we held hands, my grip tightening more every second, I realized that soon I’d need to let go. I’d need to really let go.

  I looked into Aspen’s eyes, and I could feel the tears threatening to come. How do I say good-bye to you?

  He ran his thumb over the back of my hand and placed it on my lap. He bent and kissed my hair. “Take it easy. I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”

  After a quick tug of my ear at dinner, Maxon knew I would be waiting for him tonight. I sat in front of my mirror, wishing the minutes would move faster. Mary brushed the length of my hair, calmly humming to herself. I vaguely recognized the tune as something I once played at someone’s wedding. When I’d gotten chosen for the Selection, I’d wanted so badly to find my way back to that life. I wanted a world full of the music I’d always loved.

  But, truly, that was never something I could have held on to. No matter which path I took in life now, music might only be something I pulled out at parties to entertain a guest or a way I relaxed on a weekend.

  I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I wasn’t bitter about that, not like I thought I’d be. I’d miss it, but it was just a piece of who I was now, not everything I was. There were possibilities in front of me no matter how the Selection unfolded.

  I really was more than my caste.

  Maxon’s light knock pulled me from my thoughts, and Mary answered the door.

  “Good evening,” Maxon said to Mary as he entered, and she curtsied in response.

  His eyes met mine briefly, and I wondered again if he could see how I felt about him, if it was as real to him as it was to me.

  “Your Majesty,” Mary greeted quietly. She was about to leave the room when Maxon held up a hand.

  “Forgive me, but could you tell me your name?”

  She stared at him for a moment, looked to me, and then focused on Maxon again. “I’m Mary, Your Majesty.”

  “Mary. And Anne, we met last night.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “And you?”

  “Lucy.” Her voice was small, but I could sense her joy in being acknowledged.

  “Excellent. Anne, Mary, and Lucy. Lovely to properly meet you. I’m sure Anne has filled you both in on last night so you can serve Lady America the best way possible. I want to thank you for your dedication and discretion.”

  His eyes fell on each of them in turn. “I realize I’ve put you in a compromising position, and if anyone ever raises questions about what happened, feel free to send them directly to me. It was my decision, and you shouldn’t be held responsible for any consequences that follow because of that.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lucy said.

  I’d always sensed that my maids had a deep devotion to Maxon, but tonight I felt like it went beyond the typical obligation. It seemed to me in the past as if the highest level of loyalty was to the king, but now I wondered if that was true. More and more, I saw little things that made me think people preferred his son.

  Maybe I wasn’t the only one who saw King Clarkson’s methods as barbaric, his way of thinking cruel. Maybe the rebels weren’t the only ones ready for Maxon. Perhaps there were others out there who were looking for more.

  My maids curtsied and left, leaving Maxon standing beside me.

  “What was that about? Learning their names, I mean?”

  He sighed. “Last night when Officer Leger said Anne’s name and I didn’t know who he meant . . . it was embarrassing. Shouldn’t I know the people who tend to you better than some random guard?”

  He’s not that random. “To be fair, the maids all gossip about the guards. It wouldn’t surprise me if the guards did the same.”

  “Still. They’re with you every day. I should have known their names months ago.”

  I smiled at his reasoning and went to stand, though he looked uneasy about me moving at all.

  “I’m fine, Maxon,” I insisted, taking his outstretched hand.

  “You were shot last night, if I remember correctly. You can’t blame me for worrying.”

  “It wasn’t like a real bullet wound. It only cut me.”

  “All the same, I won’t quickly forget the sound of your muffled screams as Anne sewed you back together. Come, you should be resting.”

  Maxon ushered me to the bed, and I crawled in. He tucked me under the covers before lying down on top of them himself, facing me. I waited for him to talk about everything that had happened or to warn me of the coming fallout. But he didn’t say anything. He lay there, brushing my hair back with his fingers, sometimes letting the tips linger on my cheek.

  It felt as if we were the whole world just then.

  “If something had happened—”

  “But it didn’t.”

  Maxon rolled his eyes, his voice getting serious. “It most certainly did! You came home bleeding. We nearly lost you in the streets.”

  “Look, I’m not upset with th
e choice I made,” I said, trying to calm him. “I wanted to go, to hear for myself. Besides, it’s not as if I could have let you go without me.”

  “I can’t believe how unprepared we were, going out in a palace truck without more guards. And there are rebels just walking the streets. Since when are they not hiding? Where are they getting these guns? I feel clueless, helpless. I’m losing the country I love a little every day. I nearly lost you, and I—”

  Maxon stopped himself, his frustration fading into something new. He moved his hand back to my cheek. “Last night, you said something . . . about love.”

  I looked down. “I remember.” I tried to contain my blush.

  “It’s funny how you can think you’ve said something when you never really did.”

  I giggled, feeling that the words were coming in his very next breath.

  “It’s also funny how you can think you’ve heard something when you didn’t either,” he said instead.

  All the humor vanished from the moment. “I know what you mean.” I swallowed and watched as his hand moved from my cheek to lace his fingers through mine, knowing that he and I were both watching them. “Maybe, for some people, it would be hard to confess that. Like, if they worried they might not make it to the end.”

  He sighed. “Or it would be hard to say if you worried that someone might not want to make it to the end . . . maybe never quite gave up on someone else.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not . . .”

  “Okay.”

  For everything we’d said in the safe room, for everything we’d confessed to each other, for everything that had firmly settled in my heart, these small words were the most frightening things to pass between us. Because once they were out there, we could never take them back.

  I didn’t completely understand his reasons for hesitating, but I knew mine. If he ended up with Kriss after I’d put my heart out there, I would be upset with him, but I would hate myself. It was a risk I was too frightened to take.

  The silence was making me uneasy, and when it became too much, I spoke.

  “Maybe we could talk about this again when I’m feeling better?”

  He sighed. “Of course. Completely thoughtless of me.”

  “No, no. There’s just something else I wanted to ask you about.” There were bigger things than us to consider right now.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I had a thought about my guests for the upcoming tea party, but I would need your approval.”

  He looked at me, confused.

  “And I want you to know everything I would intend to discuss with them. We might be breaking several laws, so I won’t do it if you say not to.”

  Intrigued, Maxon propped himself up on one arm to listen. “Tell me everything.”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE BACKDROP FOR OUR PHOTOS was plain and light blue. My maids put together a lovely dress for me, with little off-the-shoulder cuffs that just covered my scar. For now, my days of strapless gowns were gone.

  Though I looked pretty good, I was completely overshadowed by Nicoletta, and even Georgia was dazzling in her gown.

  “Lady America,” the woman next to the camera called. “We remember Princess Nicoletta from when the women of the Italian royal family came to visit the palace, but who is your other guest?”

  “This is Georgia, a dear friend of mine,” I replied sweetly. “One of the things that I’ve learned from the Selection so far is that moving forward means joining your life before coming to the palace with the future that lies in front of you. I’m hoping to make another step in joining those two worlds today.”

  Some of those standing around let out satisfied noises as the cameras continued to capture the three of us.

  “Excellent, ladies,” the photographer said. “You can go enjoy the party. We’ll be taking some candid shots later.”

  “Sounds fun,” I answered, motioning for my guests to come with me.

  Maxon had made it clear that of all days, today was one when I really needed to be on. I hoped to be the lead example of what an Elite should be, but it was hard for me to try and be so perfect.

  “Tone it down, America, or rainbows are going to shoot out of your eyes.” I loved that even though our friendship was brief, Georgia could see right through my act.

  I laughed, and Nicoletta joined in. “She’s right. You do seem a bit perky.”

  I sighed with a smile. “Sorry. Today is a high-stakes kind of day.”

  Georgia put an arm on my shoulder as we walked deeper into the room. “After everything you and Maxon have been through, I highly doubt he’ll send you home over a tea party.”

  “That’s not exactly what I mean. But we’ll have to talk about it later.” I turned to face them. “Right now, it would be a huge help to me if we could mingle. Once things settle down, we need to have a pretty serious discussion.”

  Nicoletta looked over at Georgia, then back to me. “What kind of friend are you introducing me to here?”

  “A valuable one. I swear. I’ll explain later.”

  For their part, Georgia and Nicoletta made me shine. As a princess, Nicoletta was quite possibly the best guest in the room, and I saw in Kriss’s eyes that she wished she had thought of that. Of course, she didn’t have a direct line to Italian royalty like I did. Nicoletta herself had given me a phone number to contact her if I ever needed to.

  No one knew who Georgia was, but when they’d heard my line—the one Maxon had specifically fed to me—about joining my past and my future, they thought that was a spectacular idea as well.

  Elise’s choices were predictable. Powerful but predictable. Two very distant cousins from New Asia representing her ties to the leaders of the nation paraded next to her in their traditional dresses. Kriss had chosen a professor from the college her father worked at and her mother. I was dreading my family hearing about that. When Mom or May realized they had a chance to be here, I was sure to get a very disappointed letter from them.

  Celeste, true to her word, brought full-fledged celebrities. Tessa Tamble—who had allegedly given a show at Celeste’s last birthday party—was there in a very short but glamorous dress. Celeste’s other guest was Kirstie Summer, another musician who was mostly known for her outlandish concerts, and her outfit was more like a costume. My guess was that it was either something she usually performed in or an experiment in painted leather. Either way, I was surprised she got through the door, both because of the way she was dressed and the fact that if you passed within a foot of her, you could smell the alcohol radiating off her.

  “Nicoletta,” Queen Amberly said, approaching us. “How wonderful to see you again.”

  They exchanged kisses on both cheeks before Nicoletta spoke. “The joy is all mine. I was elated when I received America’s invitation. We all had such a wonderful time on our last visit.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” the queen commented. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit calmer today.”

  “I don’t know,” Nicoletta countered, pointing over to where Kirstie and Tessa were standing in a corner and talking loudly. “I’m betting those two will send me home with at least one story.”

  We all laughed, though I could see a little anxiety in the queen’s eyes. “I suppose I should go introduce myself.”

  “Always the picture of bravery,” I joked.

  She smiled. “Please, relax and enjoy yourselves. I hope you get to meet some new acquaintances but, honestly, just take some time together with your friends.”

  I nodded, and Queen Amberly left to meet Celeste’s guests. Tessa was looking fine, but Kirstie appeared to be picking up and smelling every finger sandwich on a nearby table. I made a mental note not to eat anything near where she’d been standing.

  I surveyed the room. Everyone seemed busy eating or talking, so I decided now was as good a time as any.

  “Follow me,” I said, heading to a small table in the back. We sat, and a maid brought us tea. Once we were alone, I dived in, hoping this would g
o smoothly.

  “Georgia, first, I haven’t had a chance to apologize about Micah.”

  She was shaking her head even as I spoke. “He always wanted to be a hero. We all accept that things might . . . end like that. But I think he was proud.”

  “I’m still really sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

  “No. Everything’s taken care of. Trust me, he wouldn’t have chosen a different end,” she insisted.

  I thought of the mouselike boy in the corner of the room that night. He willingly ran out into the fray for me, for all of us. Bravery hides in amazing places.

  I turned back to the matter at hand. “Well, Georgia, as you can see, Nicoletta is the princess of Italy. She visited with us a few weeks ago.” I looked between them. “At that time she made it clear that Italy would like to be an ally to Illéa if certain things changed.”

  “America!” Nicoletta hissed.

  I held up a hand. “Trust me. Georgia here is a friend, but I don’t know her from Carolina. She’s one of the leaders of the Northern rebels.”

  Nicoletta sat up in her seat. Georgia gave her a timid nod, confirming what I’d said.

  “She came to our aid recently. And lost someone close to her in the process,” I explained.

  Nicoletta placed her hand on Georgia’s. “I’m sorry.” Then she turned to me, curious as to how all this tied together.

  “What we say needs to stay among us, but I thought we might be able to talk about some things that would benefit everyone here,” I explained.

  “Are you trying to overthrow the king?” Nicoletta asked.

  “No,” Georgia assured her. “We’re hoping to align ourselves with Maxon’s reign, and work toward eliminating the castes. Maybe within his lifetime. He seems to have more compassion for his people.”

  “He does,” I added.

  “Then why do you attack the palace? And all those people?” Nicoletta accused sharply.

  I shook my head. “They’re not like the Southern rebels. They don’t kill people. They sometimes deliver justice that they see as fit—”

  “We’ve gotten unwed mothers out of jail, things like that,” Georgia interjected.