The One

by Kiera Cass

  A second later, a knock came at the door. I reluctantly went to answer it, dreading King Clarkson’s cold eyes as he followed through on his ultimatum.

  I opened the door to Maxon. He stood there wordlessly.

  And all my anger made sense. I wanted everything from him and everything for him, because I wanted every piece of him. It was infuriating that everyone had to have their hands on this—the girls, his parents, even Aspen. So many conditions and opinions and obligations surrounded us, and I hated Maxon because they came with him.

  And I loved him even so.

  I was about to agree to do those awful announcements when he quietly held out his hand.

  “Come with me?”

  “Okay.”

  I closed the door behind me and followed Maxon down the hall.

  “You have a point,” he started. “I am afraid to show all of you every piece of me. You get some, Kriss gets others, and so on. And I’ve based that on what feels appropriate for each of you. With you, I always like coming to you, to your room. It’s as if I’m stepping into a bit of your world, and if I do that enough, I can get all of you. Does that make sense?”

  “Kind of,” I said as we turned up the stairs.

  “But that’s not really fair, or even accurate. You explained to me once that these are our rooms, not yours. Anyway, I thought it was time I show you another piece of my world, maybe the last one where you’re concerned.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded as we stopped in front of a door. “My room.”

  “Really?”

  “Only Kriss has seen it, and that was a bit of an impulse. I’m not unhappy I showed her, but I feel as if it pushed things forward quickly. You know how private I can be.”

  “I do.”

  He wrapped his fingers around the handle. “I’ve wanted to share this with you, and I think it’s well past the time. It’s not exactly something special, but it’s mine. So, I don’t know, I just want you to see it.”

  “Okay.” I could tell he was feeling bashful, like maybe he’d built it up to be a bigger deal than it was, or maybe he’d regret showing me at all.

  He took a deep breath and opened the door, letting me walk in first.

  It was huge. The paneling was dark, some wood I wasn’t familiar with lining the whole space. On the far wall, a wide fireplace stood, waiting to be used. The whole thing must have been for show since it never seemed to get cold enough here to justify a fire.

  His bathroom door was cracked open, and I could see a porcelain tub on the elaborately tiled floor. He had his own collection of books and a table near the fireplace that looked like it was intended for dining rather than work. I wondered how many lonely meals he’d had here. Near the doors that opened to his private balcony, a glass case full of guns sat, perfectly lined up. I’d forgotten his love of hunting.

  His bed, also made from a dark wood, was massive. I wanted to go and touch it, to see if it felt as good as it looked.

  “Maxon, you could fit a football team in there,” I teased.

  “Tried it once. Not as comfortable as you’d think.”

  I turned to swat at him, glad to see him in a playful mood. It was then, looking past his smiling face, that I saw the pictures. I inhaled sharply, taking in the beautiful display behind him.

  On the wall by Maxon’s door was a vast collage, wide enough to be wallpaper for my room back home. There didn’t appear to be any sort of order to it, just image upon image piled up for him to enjoy.

  I could see photos that surely had to have been taken by him, because they were of the palace, which was where he was almost all the time. Close-ups of tapestries, shots of the ceiling he must have lain flat on the carpet to get, and so many pictures of the gardens. There were others, maybe of places he hoped to see or had at least visited. I saw an ocean so blue it didn’t seem possible. There were a few bridges, and one of a wall-like structure that looked like it went on for miles.

  But above all this, I saw my face a dozen times over. There was the picture of me that was taken for my Selection application, and the one of Maxon and me taken for the magazine when I wore that sash. We seemed happy there, as if it was all a game. I’d never seen that photo, or the one from the article on Halloween. I remembered Maxon standing behind me while we looked at designs for my costume. While I’m staring at the sketch, Maxon’s eyes are slightly turned toward me.

  Then there were the photos he took. One of me shocked when the king and queen of Swendway visited and he’d quickly yelled out “Smile.” One of me sitting on the set for the Report, laughing at Marlee. He must have been hiding behind the blinding lights, stealing little images of us when we were all just being ourselves. And there was another one of me in the night, standing on my balcony and looking at the moon.

  The other girls were in them, too, the remaining ones more than the others; but every once in a while I’d see Anna’s eyes peek out from under a landscape or Marlee’s smile hiding in a corner. And though they were just taken, pictures of Kriss and Celeste posing in the Women’s Room were up there, too, next to Elise pretending to faint on a couch and me with my arms wrapped around his mother.

  “Maxon,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You like it?”

  “I’m in awe of it. How many of these did you take?”

  “Nearly all of them, but ones like this,” he said, pointing to one of the pictures used in the magazines, “I asked for.” He pointed again. “I took this one in the very southern part of Honduragua. I used to think it was interesting, but now it makes me sad.”

  The image was of some pipes spilling smoke into the sky. “I used to look at the air, but now I remember how much I hated the smell of it. And people live in that all the time. I was so self-absorbed.”

  “Where is this?” I asked, pointing to the long brick wall.

  “New Asia. It used to be to the north of what was the Chinese border. They called it the Great Wall. I hear it was once quite spectacular, but now it’s mostly gone. It runs less than halfway through the middle of New Asia. That’s how much they’ve expanded.”

  “Wow.”

  Maxon put his hands behind his back. “I was really hoping you would like it.”

  “I do. So much. I want you to make me one.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Or teach me to. I can’t even tell you how often I wished I could catch snippets of my life and hold on to them like this. I have a few torn pictures of my family and the new one with my sister’s baby, but that’s all. I’ve never even thought of keeping a journal or writing things down. . . . I feel like you make so much more sense now.”

  This was the center of who he was. I could feel the things that were permanent, such as his constant confinement in the palace and the brief bits of traveling. But there were also elements that shifted. The girls and I were on the wall so much because we’d taken over his world. Even as we left, we weren’t really gone.

  I stepped over and laced an arm behind his back. He did the same to me, and we stood there quietly for a minute, taking it all in. And then something that should have been obvious the whole time suddenly came to me.

  “Maxon?”

  “Yes?”

  “If things were different and you weren’t the prince, and you could pick what you did for a living, would this be it?” I pointed to the collage.

  “Taking pictures, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  He barely needed a second to think. “Absolutely. For art or even just family portraits. I’d do advertising, pretty much whatever I could. I’m very passionate about it. I think you can see that though.”

  “I can.” I smiled, happy with this knowledge.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just . . .” I moved to look at him. “You’d be a Five.”

  Maxon slowly took in my words, and he smiled quietly. “That makes me happy.”

  “Me, too.”

  Suddenly, decisively, Maxon faced me, taking my
hands in his.

  “Say it, America. Please. Tell me you love me, that you want to be mine alone.”

  “I can’t be yours alone with all the other girls here.”

  “And I can’t send them home until I’m sure of your feelings.”

  “And I can’t give you what you want while I know that tomorrow you could be doing this with Kriss.”

  “Doing what with Kriss? She’s already seen my room, I told you.”

  “Not that. Just pulling her away, making her feel like . . .”

  He waited. “How?” he whispered.

  “Like she’s the only one who matters. She’s crazy about you. She’s told me so. And I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

  He sighed, searching for the words. “I can’t tell you she means nothing. I can tell you that you mean more.”

  “How am I supposed to be sure of that if you can’t send her home?”

  A devilish smirk came to his face. He moved his lips to my ear. “I can think of a few other ways to show you how you make me feel,” he whispered.

  I swallowed, both frightened and hopeful he’d say more. His body was now up against mine, his hand low on my back, holding me to him. The other hand pushed my hair off my neck. I trembled as he ran his open lips over a tiny patch of skin, his breath so very tempting.

  It was as if I forgot how to use my limbs. I couldn’t hold on to him or think of how to move. But Maxon took care of that, backing me up a few steps so I was pressed against his collection of pictures.

  “I want you, America,” he murmured into my ear. “I want you to be mine alone. And I want to give you everything.” His lips kissed their way across my cheek, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “I want to give you things you didn’t know you wanted. I want”—he breathed into me—“so desperately to—”

  A loud knock came at the door.

  I was so lost in Maxon’s touch and words and scent that the sound was jarring. We both turned toward the door, but Maxon quickly put his lips back on mine.

  “Don’t move. I fully intend to finish this conversation.” He kissed me slowly, then pulled away.

  I stood there gasping for air. I told myself this was probably a bad idea, to let him kiss me into a confession. But, I reasoned, if there was ever a way to cave, this was it.

  He opened the door, shielding me from the visitor. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to pull myself together.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” someone said. “We’re looking for Lady America, and her maids said she would be with you.”

  I wondered how my maids had guessed, but I was pleased they seemed so in tune with me. Maxon’s brow furrowed as he looked toward me and opened the door all the way to allow the guard to walk through. He came in, and his eyes had the air of inspecting me, like he was double-checking. Once he was satisfied, he leaned over Maxon’s shoulder and whispered something.

  Maxon’s shoulders slumped, and he brought his hand to his eyes as if he was unable to deal with the news.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, not wanting him to suffer alone.

  He turned toward me, sympathy in his face. “I’m so sorry, America. I hate to be the one to tell you this. Your father has died.”

  I didn’t quite understand the words for a minute. But no matter how I arranged them in my head, they all led to the same unthinkable conclusion.

  And then the room tilted, and Maxon’s expression became urgent. The last thing I felt was Maxon’s arms keeping me from hitting the floor.

  CHAPTER 23

  “—UNDERSTAND. SHE’LL WANT TO VISIT her family.”

  “If she does, it can only be for a day at the most. I don’t approve of her, but the people are fond of her, not to mention the Italians. It would be very inconvenient if she died.”

  I opened my eyes. I was on my bed, but not under my covers. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Mary was in the room with me.

  The shouting voices were muted, and I realized that was because they were just outside my door.

  “That won’t be enough. She loved her father dearly; she’ll want time,” Maxon argued.

  I heard something like a fist hitting a wall, and Mary and I both jumped at the sound. “Fine,” the king huffed. “Four days. That’s it.”

  “What if she decides not to come back? Even though this wasn’t rebel caused, she might want to stay.”

  “If she’s dumb enough to want that, then good riddance. She was supposed to give me an answer about those announcements anyway, and if she’s not willing, then she can stay home.”

  “She said she would. She told me earlier tonight,” Maxon lied. But he knew, didn’t he?

  “About time. As soon as she returns, we’ll get her in the studio. I want this done by the New Year.” His tone was irritated, even as he got what he wanted.

  There was a pause before Maxon dared to speak. “I want to go with her.”

  “Like hell you will!” King Clarkson yelled.

  “We’re down to four, Father. That girl might be my wife. Am I supposed to send her alone?”

  “Yes! If she dies, it’s one thing. If you die, it’s a whole other issue. You’re staying here!”

  I thought the fist hitting the wall this time was Maxon’s. “I am not a commodity! And neither are they! I wish for once you would look at me and see a person.”

  The door opened quickly, and Maxon came in. “I’m so sorry,” he said, walking over and sitting on the bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Is it real?”

  “Yes, darling. He’s gone.” He gently took my hand, looking pained. “There was a problem with his heart.”

  I sat up and threw myself into Maxon’s arms. He held me tightly, letting me weep into his shoulder.

  “Daddy,” I cried. “Daddy.”

  “Hush, darling. It’ll be all right,” Maxon soothed. “You’ll fly out tomorrow morning to go pay your respects.”

  “I didn’t get to say good-bye. I didn’t . . .”

  “America, listen to me. Your father loved you. He was proud you’d done so well. He wouldn’t hold this against you.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right. Practically everything my dad had told me since I’d come here was about how proud he was.

  “This is what you need to do, okay?” he instructed, wiping tears off my cheeks. “You need to sleep as best as you can. You’ll fly out tomorrow and stay at home for four days with your family. I wanted to get you more time, but Father is quite insistent.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Your maids are making an appropriate dress for the funeral, and they’ll pack everything you need. You’re going to have to take one of them with you, and a few guards. Speaking of which,” he said, standing to acknowledge the figure standing in the open door. “Officer Leger, thank you for coming.”

  “Not at all, Your Majesty. I apologize for being out of uniform, sir.”

  Maxon reached out and shook Aspen’s hand. “Least of my concerns right now. I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

  “I do.” Aspen turned to me. “I’m very sorry for your loss, miss.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  “With the elevated rebel activity, we’re all concerned about Lady America’s safety,” Maxon started. “We’ve already had some local officers dispatched to her home and to the sites being used over the next few days, and there are still palace-trained guards there, of course. But with her actually in the house, I think we should send more.”

  “Absolutely, Your Majesty.”

  “And you’re familiar with the area?”

  “Very, sir.”

  “Good. You’ll be heading up the team going with her. Pick whomever you like, between six and eight guards.”

  Aspen raised his eyebrows.

  “I know,” Maxon conceded. “We’re stretched tight right now, but at least three of the palace guards we’ve sent to her house have already abandoned their posts. And I want her to be as safe as, if not safer than, she is here.”


  “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

  “Excellent. There will also be a maid going with her; watch her as well.” He turned to me. “Do you know who you want to go?”

  I shrugged, unable to think straight.

  Aspen spoke on my behalf. “If I may, I know Anne is your head maid, but I remember Lucy getting along well with your sister and mother. Maybe it would be good for them to see a friendly face right now.”

  I nodded. “Lucy.”

  “Very good,” Maxon said. “Officer, you don’t have much time. You’ll be leaving after breakfast.”

  “I’ll get to work, sir. See you in the morning, miss,” Aspen said. I could tell he was having a hard time keeping his distance, and, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to comfort me. Aspen really knew my dad, and I wanted someone who understood him like I did to miss him with me.

  Once Aspen left, Maxon came to sit with me again.

  “One more thing before I go.” He reached for my hands, holding them tenderly. “Sometimes when you’re upset, you tend to be impulsive.” He looked at me, and I actually smiled a little at the accusing look in his eyes. “Try to be sensible while you’re away. I need you to take care of yourself.”

  I rubbed the back of his hands with my thumbs. “I will. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” A sense of peace encircled us, the way it did sometimes. Even though my world would never be the same now, for that moment, with Maxon holding me, the loss didn’t ache so much.

  He leaned his head toward mine until our foreheads touched. I heard him draw in a breath as if he might say something and then change his mind. After a few seconds, he did it again. Finally, Maxon leaned back and shook his head and kissed my cheek. “Stay safe.”

  Then he left me alone in my sadness.

  It was cold in Carolina, the humidity from the ocean coming inland and making the chill in the air damp. Secretly, I’d hoped for snow, but it didn’t happen. I felt guilty for wanting anything at all.

  Christmas Day. I’d spent the last few weeks imagining it several different ways. I thought maybe I’d be here, eliminated and home. We’d all be around our tree, dejected that I wasn’t a princess but blissfully happy to be together. I’d also considered opening gifts under the massive tree at the palace, eating myself sick, and laughing with the other girls and Maxon, for one day every corner of the competition suspended to celebrate.