The Selection series 1-3. Кира Касс

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      “But I still don’t understand. What do they want?”

      Maxon shrugged. “The Southerners appear to want us demolished. I don’t know why, but I’m guessing some dissatisfaction or another, tired of living on the fringes of society. I mean, they’re not even Eights technically, since they have no part in the social network. But the Northerners are a bit of a mystery. Father says they just want to bother us, disrupt our governing, but I don’t think so.” He looked rather proud for a moment. “I have another theory about that as well.”

      “Do I get to know it?”

      Maxon hesitated again. I guessed this time it wasn’t so much out of fear of scaring me, but perhaps not being taken seriously.

      He came close again and whispered, “I think they’re looking for something.”

      “What?” I wondered.

      “That I don’t know. But it’s always the same around here after the Northerners come. Guards are knocked out, injured, or tied up, but never killed. It’s like they just don’t want to be followed around. Though some people get taken with them, and that’s a bit disturbing. And then the rooms—well, all the ones they can get into—they’re a mess. Every drawer pulled out, shelves searched, carpet upturned. Lots of things get broken. You wouldn’t believe the number of cameras I’ve replaced over the years.”

      “Cameras?”

      “Oh,” he said bashfully. “I like photography. But despite all that, they don’t end up taking much. Father thinks my idea is rubbish, of course. What could a bunch of illiterate barbarians be looking for? Still, I think there must be something.”

      It was intriguing. If I was penniless and knew how to break into the palace, I think I’d take every piece of jewelry I could find, anything I could sell. These rebels must have something in mind beyond a mere political statement or their day-to-day survival in mind when they came here.

      “Do you think it’s silly?” Maxon asked, bringing me out of my wonderings.

      “No, not silly. Confusing, but not silly.”

      We shared a small smile. I realized that if Maxon had simply been Maxon Schreave and not Maxon, future king of Illéa, he would be the kind of person I would have wanted to be my next-door neighbor, someone to talk to.

      He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should finish my rounds.”

      “Yes, I imagine there are quite a few ladies wondering what’s taking you so long.”

      “So, buddy, any suggestions as to whom I should speak with next?”

      I smiled and looked behind me to make sure my candidate for princess was still holding it together. She was.

      “See the blond girl over there in the pink? That’s Marlee. Sweetheart, very kind, loves movies. Go.”

      Maxon chuckled and walked in her direction.

      The time in the dining hall felt like an eternity, but the attack had only lasted a little over an hour. We found out later that no one had actually gotten inside the palace, just inside the grounds. The guards didn’t shoot at the rebels until they tried for the main doors, which accounted for the bricks—bricks that had been gouged out of the palace walls—and rotten food being thrown at the windows for so long.

      In the end, two men got too close to the doors, shots were fired, and they all fled. If Maxon’s labels were correct, I would assume these were Northerners.

      They kept us tucked away for a little while longer, searching the perimeter of the palace. When everything was as it should be, we were released to our rooms. I walked arm in arm with Marlee. Despite holding it together downstairs, the strain of the attack had exhausted me, and I was glad to have someone to distract me from it.

      “He let you have the pants anyway?” she asked. I had started talking about Maxon as soon as I could, eager to know how their conversation had gone.

      “Yeah. He was very generous about it all.”

      “I think it’s charming that he’s a good winner.”

      “He is a good winner. He’s even gracious when he’s gotten the raw end of things.” Like a knee to the royal jewels, for example.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Nothing.” I didn’t want to explain that one. “What did you two talk about today?”

      “Well, he asked me if I’d like to see him this week.” She blushed.

      “Marlee! That’s great!”

      “Hush!” she said, looking around, though the rest of the girls had already ascended the stairs. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”

      We were quiet for a minute before she burst.

      “Who am I kidding? I’m so excited I can barely stand it! I hope he won’t take too long to call on me.”

      “If he’s already asked, I’m sure he’ll follow through soon. I mean, after he finishes running the country for the day, that is.”

      She laughed. “I can’t believe this! I mean, I knew he was handsome, but I wasn’t sure how he’d behave. I was worried he’d be … I don’t know, stuffy or something.”

      “Me, too. But he’s actually …” What was Maxon actually? He was sort of stuffy, but not in a way that was as off-putting as I’d imagined. Undeniably a prince, but still so … so … “Normal.”

      Marlee wasn’t looking at me anymore. She’d lost herself in a daydream as we walked. I hoped that this image of Maxon that she was building was one he could deliver. And that she would be the kind of girl he wanted. I left her at her door with a small wave and went on to my room.

      My thoughts of Marlee and Maxon flew out of my head as soon as I opened the door. Anne and Mary were crouched around a very distressed Lucy. Her face was red with tears falling down her cheeks; her usual tiny trembles were full-on shakes, racking her entire body.

      “Calm down now, Lucy, everything’s fine,” Anne was whispering as she stroked Lucy’s messy hair.

      “Everything is over now. No one was hurt. You’re safe, dear,” Mary cooed, holding a twitching hand.

      I was too shocked to speak. This moment was Lucy’s private struggle, not meant for my eyes. I went to back out of my room, but Lucy caught me before I could back away.

      “S-s-sorry, Lady, Lady, Lady …,” she stammered. The others looked up with anxious expressions.

      “Don’t trouble yourself. Are you all right?” I asked, closing the door so no one else would see.

      Lucy tried to start again, but couldn’t form the words. Her tears and the shaking were overwhelming her little body.

      “She’ll be fine, miss,” Anne interceded. “It takes a few hours, but she calms down once everything’s quiet. If it stays bad, we can take her to the hospital СКАЧАТЬ