The Selection series 1-3

“Dry your eyes and stand up straight,” I barked into her ear.

“What?” she squeaked.

“Trust me, do it.”

Marlee wiped her face on the side of her gown and stood up a little taller. She touched her face in several places, checking for smudged makeup, I guessed. Then she turned and looked at me for approval.

“Good job. Sorry to be so bossy, but trust me on this one, okay?” I felt bad ordering her around in the middle of something so distressing, but she had to look as calm as Queen Amberly. Surely Maxon would want that in his queen, and Marlee had to win.

Marlee nodded her head. “No, you’re right. I mean, for the time being, everyone is safe. I shouldn’t be so worried.”

I nodded back to her, though she was most assuredly wrong. Everyone was not safe.

Guards waited on edge by the massive doors as heavy things were thrown against wall and windows again and again. There wasn’t a clock in here. I had no idea how long this attack was lasting, and that only made me more anxious. How would we know if they got inside? Would it only be once they started banging on the doors? Were they already inside and we just didn’t know it?

I couldn’t take the worry. I stared at a vase of ornate flowers—none of which I knew the names of—and bit away at one of my perfectly manicured nails. I pretended that those flowers were all that mattered in the world.

Eventually Maxon came by to check on me, as he had with the others. He stood beside me and stared at the flowers, too. Neither of us really knew what to say.

“Are you doing all right?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He paused a moment. “You seem unwell.”

“What will happen to my maids?” I asked, voicing my greatest worry. I knew I was safe. Where were they? What if one of them had been walking down the hall as the rebels made their way in?

“Your maids?” he asked in a tone that implied I was an idiot.

“Yes, my maids.” I looked into his eyes, shaming him into acknowledging that only a choice minority of the throngs who lived in the palace were actually being protected. I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want them to come, and I was breathing rapidly trying to keep my emotions at bay.

He looked into my eyes and seemed to understand that I was only one step up from being a maid myself. That wasn’t the reason for my worry, but it did seem strange that a lottery was the main difference between someone like Anne and me.

“They should be hiding by now. The help have their own places to wait. The guards are very good about getting around quickly and alerting everyone. They ought to be fine. We usually have an alarm system, but the last time they came through, the rebels thoroughly dismantled it. They’ve been working on fixing it, but …” Maxon sighed.

I looked at the floor, trying to quiet all the worries in my head.

“America,” he begged.

I turned to Maxon.

“They’re fine. The rebels were slow, and everyone here knows what to do in an emergency.”

I nodded. We stood there quietly for a minute, and I could tell he was about to move on.

“Maxon,” I whispered.

He turned back, a little surprised to be addressed so casually.

“About last night. Let me explain. When they came to prep us, to get us ready to come here, there was a man who told me that I was never to turn you down. No matter what you asked for. Not ever.”

He was dumbfounded. “What?”

“He made it sound like you might ask for certain things. And you said yourself that you hadn’t been around many women. After eighteen years … and then you sent the cameras away. I just got scared when you got that close to me.”

Maxon shook his head, trying to process all this. Humiliation, rage, and disbelief all played across his typically even-tempered face.

“Was everyone told this?” he asked, sounding appalled at the idea.

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine many girls would need such a warning. They’re probably waiting to pounce on you,” I noted, nodding my head toward the rest of the room.

He gave a dark chuckle. “But you’re not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?”

“I hit your thigh!”

“Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh,” he replied, his voice full of skepticism.

A laugh escaped me. Thankfully, Maxon joined in. Just then another mass hit the windows, and we stopped in unison. For a moment I had forgotten where I was.

“So how are you handling a roomful of crying women?” I asked.

There was a comical bewilderment in his expression. “Nothing in the world is more confusing!” he whispered urgently. “I haven’t the faintest clue how to stop it.”

This was the man who was going to lead our country: the guy rendered useless by tears. It was too funny.

“Try patting them on the back or shoulder and telling them everything is going to be fine. Lots of times when girls cry, they don’t want you to fix the problem, they just want to be consoled,” I advised.

“Really?”

“Pretty much.”

“It can’t possibly be that simple.” Intrigue and doubt played in his voice.

“I said most of the time, not all the time. But it would probably work for a lot of the girls here.”

He snorted. “I’m not so sure. Two have already asked if I’ll let them leave if this ever ends.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to do that.” I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. If he had agreed to let me stay on as a friend, he couldn’t be too concerned with technicalities. “What are you going to do?”

“What else can I do? I won’t keep someone here against her will.”

“Maybe they’ll change their minds,” I offered hopefully.

“Maybe.” He paused. “What about you? Have you been scared off yet?” he asked almost playfully.

“Honestly? I was convinced you were sending me home after breakfast anyway,” I admitted.

“Honestly? I had considered that myself.”