The Selection Stories Collection (69 page)

“You always have a choice, Mer.”

“Aspen, you know I don’t like this. But in the end, it’s only one person. And he’s guilty.”

“Just like the rebel sympathizers that the king demoted a caste. Just like Marlee and Carter.” I didn’t have to look up to see how disgusted he was.

“That was different,” I mumbled, not sounding convincing at all.

Aspen stopped dead in his tracks and forced me to look at him. “It’s never different with him.”

His tone was so serious. Aspen knew more than most people did, because he’d stood guard during meetings or delivered orders himself. He was holding a secret right now.

“Are they thieves at all?” I asked quietly as we continued to move.

“Yes, but nothing deserving the years of jail they’ll receive today. And it’s going to be a pretty loud message to their friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re people who’ve gotten in his way, Mer. Rebel sympathizers, men a bit too outspoken about what a tyrant he is. This is being broadcast everywhere. The people they’ve tried to sway will see this, will warn others about what happens to those who attempt to go against the king. This is deliberate.”

I whipped my arm from his, hissing my words at him. “You’ve been here almost as long as I have. In all that time, did you ever not deliver one of the sentences you were ordered to?”

He considered. “No, but—”

“Then don’t judge me. If he’s not above putting his enemies in prison without real cause, what do you think he’ll do to me? He hates me!”

Aspen’s eyes were pleading. “Mer, I know it’s scary, but you’ve—”

I put up my hand. “Do your job. Take me downstairs.”

He swallowed once, turned forward, and put his arm out for me. I gripped it, and we walked on in silence.

Halfway down the stairs, as the buzz of conversation started to reach us, he spoke up again.

“I always wondered if they’d change you.”

I didn’t respond. What could I say anyway?

In the grand foyer, the other girls were staring into the distance, quietly moving their lips as they recited their lines. I detached myself from Aspen and moved to join them.

Elise had talked about her dress so much, I felt as if I’d already seen it. Gold and cream were woven together in a slim, sleeveless design, and her golden gloves looked dramatic. Her gifts from Maxon were deep, dark gems, and they made her slick hair and dark eyes pop.

Kriss once again managed to be the embodiment of all things royal, and it was like she wasn’t even trying. Her dress was fitted through the waist and burst out like a flower blossoming toward the ground. And Maxon’s necklace and earrings for her were iridescent, gently rounded, and perfect. It did, for a moment, make me sad that mine were so simple.

Celeste’s dress . . . well, it would certainly be unforgettable. Her neckline was plunging, and it seemed a little inappropriate for the occasion. She caught me staring, and pushed her lips together and shook her shoulders at me.

I laughed once and put my hand to my forehead, feeling a little sick. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself.

Celeste met me halfway, swinging her branch with each step. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just not feeling well, I guess.”

“Do. Not. Puke,” she ordered. “Especially not on me.”

“I won’t throw up,” I assured her.

“Who threw up?” Kriss asked, joining the conversation; and Elise followed behind her.

“No one,” I said. “I’m just tired or something.”

“It won’t last too long,” Kriss reassured me.

It’ll last forever,
I thought. I looked at each of their faces. They’d come to my side just now. Wouldn’t I have done the same for them? Maybe . . .

“Do any of you actually feel
good
about doing this?” I asked.

They all looked at one another or the floor, but no one answered.

“Then let’s not do it,” I urged.

“Not do it?” Kriss questioned. “America, it’s tradition. We have to.”

“No we don’t. Not if we all decide not to.”

“What would we do? Refuse to walk in there?” Celeste asked.

“That’s one option,” I offered.

“You want us to sit in there and do nothing?” Elise sounded appalled.

“I hadn’t thought it through. I just know I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I could see that Kriss was genuinely considering it.

“It’s a trick!” Elise accused.

“What?” How could she come to that conclusion?

“She’s going last. If we all do nothing and then she follows through, she looks obedient while the rest of us look like idiots.” Elise shook her branch at me as she spoke.

“America?” Kriss looked at me, disappointment filling her eyes.

“No, I swear; that’s not what I was going to do!”

“Ladies!” We all turned toward Silvia’s correcting tone. “I understand that you’re nervous, but that’s no reason to shout.”

Her gaze hit each of us, and we all exchanged looks as they decided whether to go in on this with me.

“All right,” Silvia began. “Elise, you’ll be first, just as we practiced. Celeste and Kriss, you will follow; and America, you’ll be last. One at a time, carry your branch up the red carpet and place it at the feet of the king. Then come back and take your seat. The king will say a few words, and the ceremony will start.”

She stepped over to what looked like a small box on a stand and turned it around to show a television monitor with a view of everything happening inside the Great Room. It was magnificent. Red carpeting divided the room into the seats for the press and guests, and the four seats delegated for us. In the back of the space, the thrones sat, waiting for the royal family.

As we watched, the side door to the Great Room opened, and the king, the queen, and Maxon came in to applause and trumpeting fanfare. Once they were seated, a slower, more dignified melody started playing.

“There it is. Now, head high,” Silvia instructed. Elise gave me a pointed look and strode around the corner.

The music was dotted by the sound of hundreds of cameras taking her picture. It made for a strange rhythm section. She did great, though, as we could all see on the monitor Silvia was watching. Celeste followed, straightening her hair before she left. Kriss’s smile looked absolutely genuine and natural as she paraded down the aisle.

“America,” Silvia whispered. “Your turn.”

I tried to wipe the worry off my face and focus on positive things, but I realized there weren’t any. I was about to kill a part of myself by punishing someone beyond what I thought was deserved and give the king something he wanted in a neat, short stroke.

The cameras clicked, the bulbs flashed, and people whispered their praises to one another as I walked quietly toward the royal family. I made eye contact with Maxon, who was the picture of calm. Was that his years of discipline or true happiness coming through? His face was reassuring, but I was certain he could see the anxiety in my gaze. I saw my open spot for the olive branch and curtsied before placing my offering at the king’s feet, deliberately looking at anything in the room other than him.

As soon as I was in my place, the music came to a perfectly calculated stop. King Clarkson walked forward, standing on the edge of his stage, the circle of branches at his feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Illéa, today the final four beautiful young women of the Selection come before us all to present themselves to the law. Our great laws are what hold our nation together, the foundation for the peace we’ve so long enjoyed.”

Peace?
I thought.
Are you kidding?

“One of these young ladies will stand before you soon, no longer a commoner, but a princess. And as a member of the royal family, it will be her job to hold on to what is right, not for her own benefit, but for yours.”

. . . and how am I doing that now?

“Please join me in applauding their humility in their submission to the law and their bravery in upholding it.”

The king started clapping, and the room joined him. The applause continued as he stepped away, and I glanced down the row of girls. The only face I could really see was Kriss’s. She shrugged and gave me a half smile before facing forward again and raising herself to her full height.

A guard by the door trumpeted into the room. “We call into the presence of His Majesty King Clarkson, Her Majesty Queen Amberly, and His Royal Highness Prince Maxon the criminal Jacob Digger.”

Slowly, no doubt embarrassed by the spectacle, Jacob walked into the Great Room. His wrists were in handcuffs, and he flinched at the cameras’ lights and went skittishly to bow in front of Elise. I couldn’t see her very well without leaning too far forward, so I turned slightly and listened as she spoke the lines we all would in turn.

“Jacob, what is your crime?” she asked. She projected her voice really well, much better than usual.

“Theft, my lady,” he answered meekly.

“And how long is your sentence?”

“Twelve years, my lady.”

Slowly, not drawing attention to herself, Kriss looked my way. With hardly a change in her expression, she questioned what was happening. I nodded.

Small crimes of theft, we’d been told. If that was true, then this man would have been beaten in his town square, or, if he had been put in prison, it would have been for two or three years at the most. In two words, Jacob confirmed all my fears.

Subtly, I turned my eyes toward the king. There was no mistaking his pleasure. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t just some thief. The king was delighting in his downfall.

Elise stood and walked down to Jacob, placing her hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t truly looked her in the eye until that moment.

“Go, faithful subject, and pay your debt to the king.” Her voice rang out in the quiet of the room.

Jacob nodded his head. He looked at the king, and I could see he wanted to do something. He wanted to fight or make an accusation, but he didn’t. No doubt someone else would pay for any mistakes he made today. Jacob stood and exited the room as the audience applauded.

The next man had difficulty moving. As he turned to make his way down the carpet toward Celeste, he doubled over and fell. A collective gasp came from the room, but before he could garner too much sympathy, two guards came and walked him to Celeste. To her credit, her voice wasn’t as sure as it usually was as she ordered the man to pay his debt.

Kriss looked as steady as ever until her criminal got closer. He was younger, probably around our age, and his steps were steady, almost determined. When he turned up the carpet to Kriss, I saw a tattoo on his neck. It looked like a cross, though it seemed as if whoever had done it messed up a bit.

Kriss delivered her lines well. Anyone who didn’t know her wouldn’t be able to read the hint of regret in her voice. The room applauded, and she sat back down, her smile only slightly less bright than it usually was.

The guard yelled out the name Adam Carver, and I realized it was my turn. Adam, Adam, Adam. I needed to remember his name. Because I had to do this now, right? The other girls had. Maxon might forgive me if I failed, and the king would never like me either way; but I would certainly lose the queen, and that backed me into a corner. If I wanted a chance at all, I needed to deliver.

Adam was older, maybe my dad’s age, and there was something wrong with his leg. He didn’t fall, but it took him so long to reach me that it made the whole thing that much worse. I just wanted it to be done.

As Adam knelt in front of me, I focused on the few lines I needed to deliver.

“Adam, what is your crime?” I asked.

“Theft, my lady.”

“And how long is your sentence?”

Adam cleared his throat. “Life,” he squeaked out.

Around the room, murmurs began as people were sure they hadn’t heard that right.

Though I hated to deviate from my lines, I too needed confirmation. “How long did you say?”

“Life, my lady.” It was apparent in Adam’s voice that he was on the verge of tears.

I peeked over at Maxon. He looked uncomfortable. Wordlessly, I pleaded for help. His eyes conveyed how sorry he was that he couldn’t guide me.

As I was about to focus again on Adam, my eyes flickered to the king, who had quickly shifted his weight. I watched him run his hand across his mouth in an effort to hide his smile.

He’d set me up.

Perhaps he suspected I would hate this part of the Selection and planned to do what he could to make me look disobedient. But even if I went through with it, what kind of person was I to put a man in prison forever? No one would love me now.

“Adam,” I said softly. He looked up at me, tears threatening to fall at any moment. I noticed quickly that every whisper in the room ceased. “How much did you steal?”

People were trying to hear, but it was impossible.

He swallowed and darted his eyes toward the king. “Some clothes for my girls.”

I spoke quickly. “But this isn’t about that, is it?”

In a gesture so minute I almost missed it, Adam shook his head once.

So I couldn’t do it. I
couldn’t
do it. But I had to do something.

The idea hit me so quickly, and I was positive it was our only way out. I wasn’t sure if it would gain Adam his freedom, and I tried not to think of how sad it would make me. It was simply right, and I had to do it.

I stood and made my way to Adam, touching him on his shoulder. He winced, waiting for me to tell him he was going to prison.

“Stand up,” I said.

Adam looked at me, confusion in his eyes.

“Please,” I said, and took one of his cuffed hands to pull him along.

Adam walked with me up the aisle, to the raised area where the royal family sat. When we got to the stairs, I turned to him and sighed.

I took off one of the beautiful earrings that Maxon had given me, then the other. I placed both in Adam’s hands; and he stood there, dumbstruck, as my beautiful bracelet followed. And then—because, if I was truly going to do this, I wanted to give everything—I reached behind my neck and unclasped my songbird necklace, the one my dad had given me. I hoped he was watching and not hating me for giving his gift away. Once I dropped it into Adam’s hand, I curled his fingers around the treasures, then stepped to the side so that he was standing directly in front of King Clarkson.