Kiera Cass: The Elite

“America … I don’t know how much time we have left together, but I don’t want to spend it regretting things we didn’t do.”

“Me either.” I turned my face into his palm, kissing it. Then I kissed the tips of each of his fingers. He slid that hand deep into my hair and pulled my lips to his.

I had missed these kisses, so quiet, so sure. I knew that, in my whole life, if I married Aspen or someone else, no one would ever make me feel this way. It wasn’t like I made his world better. It was like I was his world. It wasn’t some explosion; it wasn’t fireworks. It was a fire, burning slowly from the inside out.

We shifted, sliding so I was on the floor and Maxon was above me. He ran his nose along my jawline, down my neck, across my shoulder, and kissed the same path back to my lips. I kept running my fingers through his hair. It was so soft, it almost tickled my palms.

After a while we pulled out the blankets and built a makeshift bed. He held me for the longest time, looking into my eyes. We could have spent years doing this if not for me.

Once Maxon’s shirt was dry, he put it on, covering the dried stains with his coat, and curled up next to me again. When we both got tired, we started talking. I didn’t want to sleep through a second of this, and I sensed he didn’t either.

“Do you think you’ll go back to him? Your ex?”

I didn’t want to talk about Aspen right now, but I considered this. “He’s a good choice. Smart, brave, maybe the only person on the planet more stubborn than me.”

Maxon laughed lightly. My eyes were closed, but I kept talking. “It would be awhile before I could think about that though.”

“Mmm.”

The silence stretched. Maxon rubbed his thumb along the hand he was holding.

“Could I write you?” he asked.

I thought about that. “Maybe you should wait a few months. You might not even miss me.”

He gave an almost-laugh.

“If you do write … you have to tell Kriss.”

“You’re right.”

He didn’t clarify whether that meant he would tell her or simply not write me, but I didn’t really want to know at the moment.

I couldn’t believe that all this was happening because of a stupid book.

I gasped, and my eyes shot open. A book!

“Maxon, what if the Northern rebels are looking for the diaries?”

He shifted, still not quite alert. “What do you mean?”

“When I was chased that day in the gardens, I saw them as they passed me. A girl dropped a bag full of books. The guy with her had bunches, too. They’re stealing books. What if they’re looking for a specific one?”

Maxon opened his eyes, squinting in thought. “America … what exactly was in that diary?”

“A lot. About how Gregory basically stole the country, how he forced the castes on people. It was awful, Maxon.”

“But the Report was cut off,” he insisted. “Even if that is what they’re looking for, there’s no way they could know that was it or what’s inside it. Trust me, after that little display, my father is making sure those things are even more protected than usual.”

“That’s it.” I covered my face, stifling a yawn. “I know it.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t get worked up. For all we know, they just really, really like to read.”

I moaned at his attempt at humor.

“I seriously thought I couldn’t make this any worse.”

“Shh,” he said, coming closer. His strong arms grounded me to the earth. “Don’t worry now.

You should probably sleep.”

“But I don’t want to,” I whispered, though I curled closer into him.

Maxon closed his eyes again, still holding on to me. “Me either. Even on a good day, sleeping makes me nervous.”

It made my heart ache. I couldn’t imagine his constant state of worry, especially considering that the person keeping him on edge was his own father.

He let go of my hand and reached into his pocket. My eyelids parted a bit, but he was doing all this with his eyes closed. We were both so close to sleep. He found my hand again and started tying something on my wrist. I recognized the feeling of the bracelet he got me in New Asia as it slid into place.

“I’ve been carrying it in my pocket. I’m a pitiful romantic, right? I was going to keep it, but I want you to have something from me.”

He’d put the bracelet on over Aspen’s, and I felt the button pressing into my skin underneath it.

“Thank you. It makes me happy.”

“Then I’m happy, too.”

We didn’t say anything else.

THE SOUND OF THE CREAKING door woke me, and the light streaming in was so bright, I had to block my eyes.

“Your Majesty?” someone asked. “Oh, God! I’ve found him,” he screamed. “He’s alive!”

There was a sudden flurry around us as guards and butlers stormed to our location.

“Were you not able to get downstairs, Your Majesty?” one of the guards asked. I looked at his name. Markson. I wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be one of the higher-ups in the guard.

“No. An officer was supposed to tell my parents. I told him to go there first,” Maxon explained, trying to straighten his hair. Only once did his face give away that the movement pained him.

“Which officer?”

Maxon sighed. “I didn’t get his name.” He looked to me for confirmation.

“Me either. But he was wearing a ring on his thumb. It was gray, like pewter or something.”

Officer Markson nodded. “That was Tanner. He didn’t make it. We lost about twenty-five of the guards and a dozen staff.”

“What?” I covered my mouth.

Aspen.

I prayed that he was safe. I’d been so consumed last night, it hadn’t occurred to me to worry.

“What about my parents? The other Elite?”

“All fine, sir. Your mother has been hysterical though.”

“Is she out yet?” We started moving, Maxon leading the way.

“Everyone is. We missed a few of the small safe rooms and were doing a second sweep, hoping to find you and Lady America.”

“Oh, God,” Maxon said. “I’ll go to her first.” But then he stopped dead in his tracks.

I followed his eyes and saw the destruction. That same line, the one from last time, was scrawled across the wall.

WE’RE COMING Over and over, by any means they could find, the warning covered the halls. Beyond that, the level of destruction was elevated yet again. I’d never seen what the rebels managed to do to the first floor, only to the hallways near my room. Huge stains in the carpet announced where someone, perhaps a helpless maid or fearless guard, had died. Windows were shattered, leaving jagged teeth of glass in their place.

Lights were broken, some flickering as they refused to give up. Terrifyingly, there were massive gouges in the walls; and it made me wonder if they had seen people going into the safe rooms, if they had been hunting. How close were Maxon and I to death last night?

“Miss?” a guard said, bringing me back to the moment. “We’ve taken the liberty of contacting all the families. It appears the attack on Lady Natalie’s family was a direct attempt to end the Selection.

They’re targeting your relatives to get you to leave.”

I covered my mouth. “No.”

“We’re already sending palace guards out to protect them. The king was adamant that none of the girls should go.”

“What if they want to?” Maxon challenged. “We can’t hold them here against their will.”

“Of course, sir. You’ll need to speak with the king.” The guard seemed embarrassed, not quite sure how to handle the difference of opinions.

“You won’t have to guard my family long,” I said, hoping to break some tension. “Let them know I’ll be home soon.”