The Selection (Selection - Trilogy)

this is a cage?” His eyes were full of compassion.
    “Yes, I do.” My voice came out quiet. I quickly added, “Your Majesty.”
    “I’ve felt that way more than once myself. But you must admit, it is a very beautiful cage.”
    “For you. Fill your beautiful cage with thirty-four other men all fighting over the same thing. See how nice it is then.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Have there really been arguments over me? Don’t you all realize I’m the one doing the choosing?”
    “Actually, that was unfair. They’re fighting over two things. Some fight for you, others fight for the crown. And they all think they’ve already figured out what to say and do so your choice will be obvious.”
    “Ah, yes. The man or the crown. I’m afraid some cannot tell the difference.” He shook his head.
    “Good luck there,” I said dryly.
    It was quiet for a moment in the wake of my sarcasm. I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to speak. He gazed at an unfixed point in the grass, concern marking his face. It seemed this thought had been plaguing him. He took a breath and turned back to me.
    “Which do you fight for?”
    “Actually, I’m here by mistake.”
    “Mistake?”
    “Yes. Sort of. Well, it’s a long story. And now… I’m here. And I’m not fighting. My plan is to enjoy the food until you kick me out.”
    He laughed out loud at that, actually doubling over and slapping his knee. It was a bizarre mix of rigidity and calm.
    “What are you?” he asked.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “A Two? Three?”
    Wasn’t he paying attention at all? “Five.”
    “Ah, yes, then food would probably be good motivation to stay.” He laughed again. “I’m sorry, I can’t read your pin in the dark.”
    “I’m America.”
    “Well, that’s perfect.” Maxon looked off into the night and smiled at nothing in particular. Something in all this was amusing to him. “America, my dear, I do hope you find something in this cage worth fighting for. After all this, I can only imagine what it would be like to see you actually try.”
    He came down from the bench to crouch beside me. He was too close. I couldn’t think right. Maybe I was a little star-struck or still feeling shaky from my crying episode. Either way I was too shocked to protest when he took my hand.
    “If it would make you happy, I could let the staff know you prefer the garden. Then you can come out here at night without being manhandled by the guard. I would prefer if you had one nearby, though.”
    I wanted that. Freedom of any kind sounded heavenly, but he needed to be absolutely sure of my feelings.
    “I don’t… I don’t think I want anything from you.” I pulled my fingers from his loose grip.
    He was a little taken aback, hurt. “As you wish.” I felt more regret. Just because I didn’t like the guy didn’t mean I wanted to hurt him. “Will you be heading inside soon?”
    “Yes,” I breathed, looking at the ground.
    “Then I’ll leave you with your thoughts. There will be a guard near the door waiting for you.”
    “Thank you, um, Your Majesty.” I shook my head. How many times had I addressed him wrongly in this conversation?
    “Dear America, will you do me a favor?” He took my hand again. He was persistent.
    I squinted at him, not sure of what to say. “Maybe.”
    His smile returned. “Don’t mention this to the others. Technically, I’m not supposed to meet you until tomorrow, and I don’t want anyone getting upset. Though I wouldn’t call you yelling at me anything close to a romantic tryst, would you?”
    It was my turn to smile. “Not at all!” I took a deep breath. “I won’t tell.”
    “Thank you.” He took the hand he was holding and lowered his lips to it. When he pulled away, he gently placed my hand in my lap. “Good night.”
    I looked at the warm spot on my hand, stunned for a moment. Then I turned to watch Maxon as he walked away, giving me the privacy I’d wanted all day.

CHAPTER 11
     
    I N THE MORNING I WOKE not to the sound of the maids coming in—though they had—or my bath being drawn—though it was. I woke to the light coming through my window as Anne gently pulled back the rich, heavy curtains. She hummed a quiet song to herself, absolutely happy with her task.
    I wasn’t ready to move. It had taken me a long time to come down from getting so worked up, and even more time to relax after I’d realized exactly what that conversation in the garden would mean for me. If I