The Selection Stories Collection

by Kiera Cass

  After a quick survey, he popped down again. “I’m going to get her out of here before she really loses it.”

  He crawled over me and grabbed Kriss, who was covering her ears and crying in earnest. Aspen pulled her face up and slapped her. She was stunned into silence long enough to listen to his orders and follow him from the room, shielding her head as she went.

  It was getting quieter. People must be leaving now. Or dying.

  And then I noticed a very still leg hanging out from under the tablecloth. Oh, God! Maxon!

  I scurried under the table to find Maxon breathing with great labor, a large red stain growing across his shirt. There was a wound below his left shoulder, and it looked very serious.

  “Oh, Maxon,” I cried. Unsure of what else to do, I balled up the hem of my dress in my hands and pressed it to the bullet wound. He winced a bit. “I’m so sorry.”

  He reached up his hand and covered mine. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was about to ruin both our lives.”

  “Don’t talk right now. Just focus, okay?”

  “Look at me, America.”

  I blinked a few times and pulled my gaze up to his eyes. Through the pain, he smiled at me.

  “Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway.”

  “Shhh,” I urged.

  “I’ll love you until my very last breath. Every beat of my heart is yours. I don’t want to die without you knowing that.”

  “Please don’t,” I choked.

  He took his hand off mine and laced it through my hair. The pressure was light, but it was enough for me to know what he wanted. I bent to kiss him. It was every kiss we’d ever had, all the uncertainty, all the hope.

  “Don’t give up, Maxon. I love you; please don’t give up.”

  He took an unsteady breath.

  Aspen ducked under the table then, and I squealed in fear before I realized who it was.

  “Kriss is in a safe room, Your Majesty,” Aspen said, all business. “Your turn. Can you stand?”

  He shook his head. “A waste of time. Take her.”

  “But, Your Majesty—”

  “That’s an order,” he said as forcefully as he could manage.

  Maxon and Aspen stared at each other for a long second.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No! I won’t go!” I insisted.

  “You’ll go,” Maxon said, sounding tired.

  “Come on, Mer. We’ll have to hurry.”

  “I’m not leaving!”

  Quickly, as if he might suddenly be fine, Maxon reached up to Aspen’s uniform and clutched it in his hands. “She lives. Do you understand me? Whatever it takes, she lives.”

  Aspen nodded and grabbed my arm harder than I thought possible.

  “No!” I cried. “Maxon, please!”

  “Be happy,” he breathed, squeezing my hand one last time as Aspen dragged me away, screaming.

  As we got to the door, Aspen pushed me up against the wall. “Shut up! They’ll hear you. The sooner I get you to a safe room, the sooner I can come back for him. You have to do whatever I say, got it?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, stay low and quiet,” he said, pulling out his gun again and dragging me into the hall.

  We looked up and down, and saw someone running away from us at the far end of the corridor. Once he was gone we moved. Around the corner we stumbled upon a guard on the ground. Aspen checked his pulse and shook his head. He reached over and grabbed the guard’s gun, and handed it to me.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” I whispered, terrified.

  “Fire it. But make sure you know if it’s a friend or a foe before you do. This is mayhem.”

  It was a tense few minutes of ducking into corners and checking safe rooms that were already taken and locked. It seemed that most of the action had moved upstairs or outside, because the pops of gunshots and faceless screams were muffled by walls. Still, each time we heard a whisper of a sound, we paused before moving.

  Aspen peeked around a corner. “This is a dead end, so keep a lookout.”

  I nodded. We moved quickly to the end of the short hallway, and the first thing I noticed was the bright sun coming in through the window. Didn’t the sky know the world was falling apart? How could the sun shine today?

  “Please, please, please,” Aspen whispered, reaching for the lock. Mercifully, it opened. “Yes!” He sighed, pulling back the door, blocking half the hall from view.

  “Aspen, I don’t want to do this.”

  “You have to. You have to be safe, for so many people. And . . . I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  He fidgeted. “If something happens to me . . . I need you to tell—”

  Over his shoulder, a hint of red came from behind the corner at the end of the hall. I jerked the gun up and pointed it past Aspen, firing at the figure. Not a second later, Aspen pushed me into the safe room and slammed the door, leaving me alone in the dark.

  CHAPTER 31

  I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I sat there. I kept listening for something outside the door, even though I knew it was useless. When Maxon and I had been locked in a safe room a few weeks ago, we couldn’t hear a single sound from the outside world. And there had been so much destruction then.

  Still, I hoped. Maybe Aspen was okay and would open the door at any second. He couldn’t be dead. No. Aspen was a fighter; he’d always been a fighter. When hunger and poverty threatened him, he pushed back. When the world took away his dad, he made sure his family survived. When the Selection took me, when the draft took him, he didn’t let it stop him from hoping. Compared to all that, a bullet was tiny, insignificant. No bullet was taking down Aspen Leger.

  I pressed my ear up to the door, praying for a word, a breath, anything. I focused, listening for something that sounded like Maxon’s labored breathing as he lay dying underneath the table.

  I pinched my eyes together, begging God to keep him alive. Certainly, everyone in the palace would be looking for Maxon and his parents. They would be the first ones helped. They wouldn’t let him die; they couldn’t.

  But was it past hope?

  He’d looked so pale. Even the last squeeze of my hand was weak.

  Be happy.

  He loved me. He really loved me. And I loved him. In spite of everything that should have kept us apart—our castes, our mistakes, the world around us—we were supposed to be together.

  I should be with him. Especially now, while he lay dying. I shouldn’t be hiding.

  I stood up and started feeling around the walls for the light switch. I slapped the steel until I found it. I surveyed the space. It was smaller than the other room I’d been in. It had a sink but no toilet, just a bucket in one corner. A bench was pressed up against the wall by the door, and a shelf with some packets of food and blankets lined the back. And then finally, on the floor, the gun sat cold and waiting.

  I didn’t even know if this would work, but I had to try. I pulled the bench over to the middle of the room and tipped it on its side with the wide seat propped up toward the door. I crouched below it, checking the height, and realized that wasn’t going to be much cover. It would have to do though.

  As I stood, I tripped over my stupid dress. Huffing, I hunted on the shelves. The thin knife was probably for opening and dividing food, but it worked on the material just fine. Once my dress was cut into an uneven hem around my knees, I took some of the fabric and made a makeshift belt and tucked the knife in it for good measure.

  I pulled the blankets over myself, expecting there to be some sort of shrapnel. Looking one more time around the room, I tried to see if there was anything I should take with me, something I could repurpose. No. This was it.

  Ducking behind the bench, I aimed the gun at the lock, took a steadying breath, and fired.

  The sound echoed in the tiny space, scaring me even though I’d been expecting it. Once I was sure that the bullet wasn’t ricocheting
around the room, I went up to check the door. Above the lock, a small crater sat, exposing rough layers of metal. I was upset that I’d missed, but at least I knew this might work. If I hit the lock enough times, maybe I could get out of here.

  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.