The Guard: A Selection Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) Page 3

  King Clarkson shook his head before suddenly slamming his hand on the table. I jumped along with everyone else in the room.

  “Don’t these people see what they’re doing? They’re tearing apart everything we’ve worked for, and for what? To pursue interests they might fail in? I’ve offered them security. I’ve offered them order. And they rebel.”

  Of course the man with everything he could ever need or want didn’t understand why any average person might want the same chance.

  When I was drafted, I had been simultaneously terrified and thrilled. I knew that some considered it a death sentence. But at least the life in front of me would be more exciting than the paperwork and housework I faced if I had stayed in Carolina. Besides, it wasn’t much of a life anyway after America left.

  King Clarkson stood, pacing. “These people have to be stopped. Who’s running Bonita now?”

  “Lamay. He’s chosen to move his family to another location for the time being, and has started funeral arrangements for former Governor Sharpe. He seems to be proud of his new role, despite the obstacles.”

  The king held out his hand. “There. A man accepting his lot in life, doing his duty for the general public. Why can’t they all do that?”

  I scooped up the mail, close to the king as he spoke.

  “We’ll have Lamay eliminate any suspected assassins immediately. Even if he misses the mark, we’ll send a clear warning. And let’s find a way to reward anyone with information. We need to get some people in the South in our pocket.”

  I turned quickly, wishing I hadn’t heard. I didn’t support the rebels. More often than not, they were killers. But the king’s actions today had nothing to do with justice.

  “You there. Stop.”

  I looked back, not sure if the king was talking to me. He was, and I watched as he scrawled a brief letter, folded it, and added it to the pile.

  “Take this with the post. The boys in the mail room will have the correct address.” The king flung it onto the pile in my arms carelessly, like it held nothing of value. I stood there, immobile, unable to carry that load. “Go on,” he finally said, and as always, I obeyed.

  I took the pile and moved at a snail’s pace toward the mail room.

  This is none of your business, Aspen. You’re here to protect the monarchy. This does that. Focus on America. Let the world go to hell around you so long as you can get to her.

  I straightened and did what I must.

  “Hey, Charlie.”

  He whistled as he took in the stack. “Busy day today.”

  “Looks like it. Um, there was this one . . . the king didn’t have the address on hand, said you’d have it.” I pointed to Lamay’s letter on top.

  Charlie flipped open the letter to see where it should go, scanning it quickly. By the end he looked troubled. He checked behind him before lifting his eyes to me. “Did you read this?” he asked quietly.

  I shook my head. I swallowed, feeling guilty for not admitting that I already knew the contents. Maybe I could have stopped it, but I was only doing my job.

  “Hmm,” Charlie mumbled, quickly spinning in his chair and running into a stack of sorted mail.

  “Come on, Charles!” Mertin complained. “That took me three hours!”

  “Sorry about that. I’ll tidy it up. Say, Leger, two things.” Charlie picked up a lone envelope. “This came for you.”

  I immediately recognized Mom’s handwriting. “Thank you.” I clung to the paper, desperate for news.

  “Not a problem,” he replied casually, picking up a wire basket. “And could you do me a favor and take this scrap paper for the furnace? Should probably go in right away.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Charlie nodded, and I tucked my letter away to get a better hold of the basket.

  The furnaces were near the soldiers’ quarters, and I set the basket down before carefully opening the door. The embers were low, so I tossed the papers in gingerly, leaving room for air to get to them.

  If I hadn’t needed to be so careful, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the letter to Lamay stuck in with the empty envelopes and scraps of miswritten addresses.

  Charlie, what were you thinking?

  I stood there, debating. If I took it back, he would know he’d been caught. Did I want him to know he was caught? Did I want him to be caught at all?

  I threw the letter in, watching to make sure it burned. I’d done my job, and the rest of the mail would go out. There would be no place to put blame, and who knew how many lives would be spared?

  There’d been enough death, enough pain.

  I walked away, washing my hands of it all. True justice would come eventually, to whomever was right or wrong in that situation. Because just now, it was hard to tell.

  Back in my room, I tore into my letter, eager to hear from home. I didn’t like Mom being without me. It was a small comfort that I could send her money, but I always worried for my family’s safety.

  It seemed the feeling was mutual.

  I know you love her. But don’t be stupid.

  Of course she was two steps ahead of me, guessing things without prompting. She knew about America before I told her, knew how angry I was about things when I’d never said a word. And here she was, a country away, warning me to not do what she was positive I would.

  I stared at paper. The king looked to be in the middle of a vicious streak, but I was sure I could keep out of his grasp. And my mother had never steered me wrong, but she didn’t know how good I was at my job. I ripped the letter up and dropped it in the furnace on my way to meet America.

  CHAPTER 5

  I HAD TIMED IT PERFECTLY. If America made it within the next five minutes, no one would be aware of either of us. I knew what I was risking, but I couldn’t stay away from her. I needed her.

  The door creaked open then quickly shut. “Aspen?”

  I’d heard her voice like that so often before. “Just like old times, eh?”

  “Where are you?” I stepped from behind the curtain and heard her draw in a breath. “You startled me,” she said playfully.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last.”

  America was many things, but stealthy wasn’t one of them. As she tried to meet me in the middle of the room, she hit a sofa, two side tables, and tripped over the edge of a rug. I didn’t want to make her nervous, but she really needed to be more careful.

  “Shhh! The entire palace is going to know we’re in here if you keep pushing things over,” I whispered, more teasing than warning.

  She giggled. “Sorry. Can’t we turn on a light?”

  “No.” I moved into a more direct path for her. “If someone sees it shining under the door, we might get caught. This corridor isn’t checked a lot, but I want to be smart.”

  She finally reached me, and everything in the world felt better the second I touched her skin. I held her for a second before ushering her to the corner.

  “How did you even know about this room?”

  I shrugged. “I’m a guard. And I’m very good at what I do. I know the entire grounds of the palace, inside and out. Every last pathway, all the hiding spots, and even most of the secret rooms. I also happen to know the rotations of the guards, which areas are usually the least checked, and the points in the day when the guards are at their fewest. If you ever want to sneak around the palace, I’m the guy to do it with.”

  In a single word, she was incredulous and proud. “Unbelievable.”

  I gave her a gentle tug, and she sat with me, the tiny scrap of moonlight barely making her visible. She smiled before turning serious.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” I knew she was seeing Woodwork’s backside and Marlee’s hands, thinking about the shame and loss that would be waiting if we were discovered. And that was if we were lucky. But I had faith in my skills.

  “Trust me, Mer. An extraordinary number of things would have to happen for someone to find us here. We’re safe.”

  The doubt
didn’t leave her eyes, but when I wrapped an arm around her, she fell into me, needing this moment as much as I did.

  “How are you doing?” It was nice to finally ask.

  Her sigh was so heavy it rattled me. “Okay, I guess. I’ve been sad a lot, and angry.” She didn’t seem to realize that her hand had instinctively gone to the patch of skin just above my knee, the exact place where she used to fiddle with the frayed hole on my jeans. “Mostly I wish I could undo the last two days and get Marlee back. Carter, too, and I didn’t even know him.”

  “I did. He’s a great guy.” His family flitted through my mind, and I wondered how they were surviving without their main provider. “I heard he was telling Marlee he loved her the whole time and trying to help her get through it.”

  “He was. At least in the beginning anyway. I got hauled off before it was over.”

  I smiled and kissed the top her head. “Yeah, I heard about that, too.” The second after I said it, I wondered why I didn’t say that I saw it. I’d known what she did before the staff started whispering about it. But that seemed to be the way I took it in: through everyone else’s surprise and, usually, admiration. “I’m proud you went out with a fight. That’s my girl.”

  She leaned in even closer. “My dad was proud, too. The queen said I shouldn’t act that way, but she was glad I did. It’s been confusing. Like it was almost a good idea but not really, and then it didn’t fix anything anyway.”

  I held her tight, not wanting her to doubt what seemed natural to her. “It was good. It meant a lot to me.”

  “To you?”

  It was awkward to admit my worries, but she had to know. “Yeah. Every once in a while I wonder if the Selection has changed you. You’ve been so taken care of, and everything is so fancy. I keep wondering if you’re the same America. That let me know that you are, that they haven’t gotten to you.”

  “Oh, they’re getting to me all right, but not like that,” she spat, her voice sharp. “Mostly this place reminds me that I wasn’t born to do this.”

  Then her anger faded to sadness, and she turned toward me, burrowing her head into my chest, like if she tried hard enough she could hide under my ribs. I wanted to keep her in my arms, so close to my heart that she could practically be a part of it, and bat away all the pain that might come her way.

  “Listen, Mer,” I started, knowing the only way to get to the good would be to walk through the bad. “The thing about Maxon is that he’s an actor. He’s always putting on this perfect face, like he’s so above everything. But he’s just a person, and he’s as messed up as anyone is. I know you cared about him or you wouldn’t have stayed here. But you have to know now that it’s not real.”

  She nodded, and I felt like this wasn’t entirely new information to her, like a part of her always expected this.

  “It’s better you know now. What if you got married and then found out it was like this?”

  “I know,” she breathed. “I’ve been thinking about that myself.”

  I tried not to focus on the fact that she’d already wondered about a life married to Maxon. It was part of the experience. Sooner or later, she was bound to think about it. But that had passed.

  “You’ve got a big heart, Mer. I know you can’t just get over things, but it’s okay to want to. That’s all.”

  She was quiet, thinking over my words. “I feel so stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid,” I disagreed.

  “I am, too.”

  I needed to make her smile. “Mer, do you think I’m smart?”

  Her tone was light. “Of course.”

  “That’s because I am. And I’m way too smart to be in love with a stupid girl. So you can drop that right now.”

  She gave a laugh like a whisper but it was enough to pierce through the sadness. I’d had my own aches because of the Selection, and I needed to try to understand hers better. She didn’t ask to put her name in the lottery. I did. This was my fault.

  A dozen times, I’d wanted to explain myself, to beg for the mercy that she’d already given. I didn’t deserve it. Maybe now. Maybe this was the time that I could finally, really apologize.

  “I feel like I’ve hurt you so much,” she said, shame covering her voice. “I don’t understand how you can still possibly be in love with me.”

  I sighed. She acted like she needed forgiveness, when it was certainly the other way around.

  I didn’t know how to explain this to her. There weren’t words wide enough to hold what I felt for her. Not even I could make sense of it.

  “It’s just the way it is. The sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Aspen endlessly loves America. It’s how the world was designed to be.” I felt the lift of her cheek against my chest as she smiled. If I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, maybe I could at least make it clear that those last minutes in the tree house were a fluke. “Seriously, Mer, you’re the only girl I ever wanted. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. I’ve been trying to prepare myself for that, just in case, and . . . I can’t.”

  When the words failed, our bodies spoke. No kisses, nothing more than hushed embraces, but it was all we needed. I felt everything I had felt back in Carolina, and I was sure that we could be that again. Maybe be even more.

  “We shouldn’t stay much longer,” I said, wishing it wasn’t true. “I’m pretty confident in my abilities, but I don’t want to push it.”

  She reluctantly stood, and I pulled her in for one last embrace, hoping it would be enough to sustain me until I could see her again. She held on tightly, like she was afraid to let me go. I knew the coming days would be hard for her, but whatever happened, I’d be here.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m really sorry Maxon turned out to be such a bad guy. I wanted you back, but I didn’t want you to get hurt. Especially not like that.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do.” She hesitated. “It’s not over though. Not if I’m still here.”

  “Yeah, but I know you. You’ll ride it out so your family gets money and you can see me, but he’d have to reverse time to fix this.” I settled my chin on her head, keeping her as close to me for as long as I could. “Don’t worry, Mer. I’ll take care of you.”

  CHAPTER 6

  I HAD A VAGUE SENSE that I was dreaming. America was across the room, tied to a throne, and Maxon had one hand on her shoulder, trying to push her into submission. Her worried eyes were locked on mine, and she struggled to get to me. But then I saw Maxon was watching me, too. His stare was menacing, and he looked so much like his father in that moment.

  I knew I needed to get to her, to untie her so we could run. But I couldn’t move. I was tied up, too, on the rack like Woodwork. Fear ran down my skin, cold and demanding. No matter how we tried we would never be able to save each other.

  Maxon walked over to a pillow, picked up an elaborate crown, and brought it back to place on America’s head. Though she eyed it warily, she didn’t fight when he set it on her gleaming red hair. But it wouldn’t stay put. It slipped over and over.

  Undeterred, Maxon reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a two-pronged hook. He lined up the crown and pushed the hook in, affixing it to America’s head. As the pin went in, I felt two massive stabs in my back and screamed from the burn of it. I waited to feel the blood, too, but it didn’t come.

  Instead, I watched as the blood spilled from the pins in America’s head, mixing with the red of her hair and sticking to her skin. Maxon smiled as he shoved in pin after pin, and I yelled in pain every time one pierced America’s skin, watching, horrified, as the blood from the crown drowned her.

  I snapped awake. I hadn’t had a nightmare like that in months, and never one about America. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, reminding myself that it wasn’t real. Still, the pain from the hooks echoed on my skin, and I felt dizzy.

  Instantly, my mind went to Woodwork and Marlee. In my dream, I would happily ha
ve taken all the pain if it meant America didn’t have to suffer. Had Woodwork felt the same way? Had he wished he could have taken twice the punishment to spare Marlee?

  “You all right, Leger?” Avery asked. The room was still dark, so he must have heard me tossing.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Bad dream.”

  “It’s cool. Not sleeping that great myself.”

  I rolled to face him even though I couldn’t see a thing. Only senior officers had rooms with windows.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Would it be okay if I thought out loud for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Avery had been a great friend. The least I could do was spare him a few minutes of my sleep.

  I heard him sit up, deliberating before he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about Woodwork and Marlee. And about Lady America.”

  “What about her?” I asked, sitting up myself.

  “At first when I saw Lady America run for Marlee, I was pissed. Because shouldn’t she know better? Woodwork and Marlee made a mistake, and they had to be punished. The king and Prince Maxon have to keep control, right?”

  “Okay.”

  “But when the maids and butlers were talking about it, they were kind of praising Lady America. It didn’t make sense to me because I thought what she did was wrong. But, well, they’ve been here a lot longer than we have. Maybe they’ve seen a lot more. Maybe they know something.

  “And if they do, and they think Lady America was right to do what she did . . . then what am I missing?”

  We were treading dangerous ground here. But he was my friend, the best I’d ever had. I trusted Avery with my life, and the palace was one place where I could really use an ally.

  “That’s a really good question. Makes you wonder.”

  “Exactly. Like sometimes when I’m on guard in the king’s office, the prince will be working and then leave to do something. King Clarkson will pick up Prince Maxon’s work and undo half of it. Why? Couldn’t he at least talk to him about it? I thought he was training him.”

  “I don’t know. Control?” As I said the word, I realized that had to be at least partially true. Sometimes I suspected Maxon didn’t completely know what was going on. “Maybe Maxon isn’t as competent as the king thinks he should be by now.”