Kiera Cass: The Elite

Carter was being strapped up to the A-shaped frame by another masked man, his legs spread wide and his arms pulled into a position that mimicked the structure. Padded belts were wrapped around his waist and legs, tightened to a point that looked uncomfortable even from here. Marlee was forced to kneel in front of the large wooden block as a man ripped the coat from her back. Her wrists were bound down to the loops on either side, palms up.

She was crying.

“This is a crime punishable by death! But, in his mercy, Prince Maxon is going to spare these two traitors their lives. Long live Prince Maxon!”

The crowd chanted after the man. If I had been in my right mind, I would have known I was supposed to call out, too, or at least applaud. The girls around me did, and so did our parents, even if they were in shock. But I wasn’t paying attention. All I saw were Marlee’s and Carter’s faces.

We had been given front-row seats for a reason—to show us what would happen if we made such a stupid mistake—but from here, not more than twenty feet from the platform, I could see and hear everything that really mattered.

Marlee was staring at Carter, and he was looking right back at her, craning his neck to do so.

The fear was unmistakable, but there was also this look on her face, as if she was trying to reassure him that he was worth all this.

“I love you, Marlee,” he called to her. It was barely audible over the crowd, but it was there.

“We’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Marlee couldn’t speak in her fear, but she nodded back at him. In that moment, all I could think of was how beautiful she looked. Her golden hair was messy and her dress a disaster, and she’d lost her shoes at some point; but, my God, she looked radiant.

“Marlee Tames and Carter Woodwork, you are both hereby stripped of your castes. You are the lowest of the low. You are Eights!”

The crowd cheered, which seemed wrong. Weren’t there any Eights standing here who hated being referred to that way?

“And to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought on His Majesty, you will be publicly caned with fifteen strikes. May your scars remind you of your many sins!”

Caned? What did that even mean?

My answer came a second later. The two masked men who had bound Carter and Marlee pulled long rods out of a bucket of water. They swiped them in the air a few times, testing them out, and I could hear the sticks whistling as they cut at the air. The crowd applauded this warm-up with the same frenzy and adoration they had just given the Selected.

In a few seconds, Carter’s backside would be humiliatingly struck, and Marlee’s precious hands

…

“No!” I cried. “No!”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Natalie whispered as Elise made a weak moan into her guard’s shoulder. But nothing stopped.

I stood up and lunged toward Maxon’s seat, falling over my father’s lap.

“Maxon! Maxon, stop this!”

“You have to sit down, miss,” my guard said, trying to wrangle me back into my chair.

“Maxon, I beg you, please!”

“It’s not safe, miss!”

“Get off me!” I yelled at my guard, kicking him as hard as I could. Try as I may, he held on tight.

“America, please sit down!” my mother urged.

“One!” cried the man on the stage, and I saw the cane fall on Marlee’s hands.

She let out the most pathetic whimper, like a dog that had been kicked. Carter made no sound.

“Maxon! Maxon!” I yelled. “Stop it! Stop it, please!”

He heard me; I knew he did. I saw him slowly close his eyes and swallow one time, as if he could push the sound out of his head.

“Two!”

Marlee’s cry was pure anguish. I couldn’t imagine her pain—and there were still thirteen more strikes to go.

“America, sit!” Mom insisted. May was between her and Dad, her face averted, her cries almost as pained as Marlee’s.

“Three!”

I looked at Marlee’s parents. Her mother buried her head in her hands, her father’s arms wrapped around her, as if he could protect her from everything they were losing in that moment.

“Let me go!” I yelled at my guard to no avail. “MAXON!” I screamed. My tears were blurring my vision, but I could see him enough to know he’d heard me.

I looked at the other girls. Shouldn’t we do something? Some appeared to be crying, too. Elise was bent over, a palm pressed to her forehead, looking as if she might pass out. No one seemed angry though. Shouldn’t they be?

“Five!”

The sound of Marlee’s shrieks would haunt me for the rest of my life. I’d never heard anything like it. Or the sickening echo of the crowd cheering it on, as if this was merely entertainment. Or Maxon’s silence, allowing this to happen. Or the crying of the girls around me, accepting it.

The only thing that gave me any sort of hope was Carter. Even though he was sweating from the trauma and shaking with pain, he managed to pant out comforting words to Marlee.

“It’ll be … over soon,” he managed.

“Six!”

“Love … you,” he stammered.

I couldn’t handle this. I tried to claw at my guard, but his thick sleeves protected him. I shrieked as he gripped me tighter.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” Dad yelled, pulling the guard’s arms. With that space, I wiggled myself until I was facing him and thrust my knee up as hard as I could.

He let out a muffled cry and fell back, my dad catching him on the way down.

I hopped over the railing, clumsy in my dress and heeled shoes. “Marlee! Marlee!” I screamed, running as quickly as I could. I almost got to the steps; but two guards caught up with me, and that was a fight I couldn’t win.

From the angle behind the stage, I saw that they’d exposed Carter’s backside, and his skin was already torn, pieces hanging sickeningly. Blood was trickling down, ruining what used to be his dress pants. I couldn’t imagine the state of Marlee’s hands.

The thought sent me into an even deeper hysteria. I screamed and kicked at the guards, but all that accomplished was the loss of one of my shoes.

I was dragged inside as the man cried out for the next strike, and I didn’t know whether to be grateful or ashamed. On the one hand, I didn’t have to see it all; on the other, I felt like I’d abandoned Marlee in the worst possible moment of her life.

If I had been a true friend, wouldn’t I have done better than that?

“Marlee!” I screamed. “Marlee, I’m sorry!” But the crowd was so frenzied, and she was crying so much, I didn’t think she heard me.

I THRASHED AND SHRIEKED ALL the way back. The guards had to hold me so tightly that I knew I’d be covered in bruises later, but I didn’t care. I had to fight.

“Where’s her room?” I heard one ask, and twisted to see a maid walking down the hall. I didn’t recognize her, but she clearly knew me. She escorted the guards to my door. I heard my maids shouting in protest at the way I was being handled.

“Calm down, miss; that’s no way to behave,” a guard said with a grunt as they threw me onto my bed.

“Get the hell out of my room!” I screamed.

My maids, all of them in tears, rushed over to me. Mary started trying to get the dirt from my fall off my dress, but I slapped her hands away. They knew. They knew, and they didn’t warn me.

“You, too!” I yelled at them. “I want all of you out! NOW!”

They recoiled at my words, and the tremors running down Lucy’s little body almost made me regret saying them. But I had to be alone.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Anne said, pulling the other two back. They knew how close I was to Marlee.