The One: Maxon

Chapter 22

"Maybe the rules are wrong!" called out America's voice as we neared the doors of the parlor.

As soon as the Elite had exited the stage, my father was on his feet, me close behind trying to keep up. The king burst open the doors while my mother and I stood in the hall. I watched as he calmly marched up to America and firmly grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out. I couldn't tell if it was her injured arm or not, but based on the level of pain displayed on her face I guessed not. Still, it took almost everything in me not to rip his hands off of her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, out of breath from the long strides he was taking. He walked passed us, making eye contact with no one. I looked at my mother who looked curiously fearful and made my way after him.

"Clarkson, don't act in haste," urged my mother who was having more trouble than me keeping up with him. He didn't answer her. He just kept walking as if he hadn't heard her at all. He rounded a corner, into a room and threw America toward a couch.

"Sit," he ordered fiercely as she stumbled. For once, she actually listened to him. My father paced the floor, cinching his eyebrows in frustration. I wanted to fidget but I figured that would only make him angrier. He finally stopped and marched right up to my face.

"You swore!" he spat. "You told me she was under control, that this wouldn't happen again. The first outburst on the Report, to her almost getting you killed on the roof, to this? It ends today, Maxon. Right now." He turned away from me.

I wanted to correct him and chide him for his exaggerations, but I held my tongue.

"Father," I started softly, "didn't you hear the cheering? The people were impressed, they loved her. Right now, she's your most valuable asset."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked as he slowly turned to face my again. His jaw was set and his mouth formed a rigid line while his eyes glared swords into me.

"I just mean...look. When she told the people to arm themselves against the rebel attacks in the provinces, they listened. Imagine how many more people are alive now because of her, and I was hardly in any real danger on that rooftop," I continued as his eyes widened, "and this? I probably couldn't put someone away for life for a petty crime such as theft, much less someone who has probably actually seen people get publicly beaten for the same crimes. The majority of the lower castes finds her refreshing, they can relate to her." My father stared at me for a few moments before starting to laugh. He actually began to laugh, in full force. I snuck a glance at America who looked just as frazzled and confused as I felt.

"I let her stay because she kept you alive. That was the only reason. You are my most valuable assest, not that. If we lose you, we lose everything and I don't just mean in death. If you're not committed to this life, to your duty then everything will fall apart. You are the only heir to this throne and you want to throw away decades of hard work in this country for this spiteful, impish little girl? If you want to sympathize with lower castes I can have you taken to see for yourself." There was a charged silence in the air.

"You've changed, Maxon. You're being brainwashed by these girls, especially this one. And you know something? They're all useless!"

"Clarkson," my mother started feebly, "perhaps we should--". As soon as he looked at her she shut her mouth. I clenched my jaw.

"I have a proposition for you," he said to me.

"Not interested," I said coldly.

"Hear me out." I relented and nodded my head for him to continue.

"These girls have been just short of disasters. Even the Asian one, whatever her name was, has failed to put her connections to good use. The Two is narcissistic and fame obsessed, and the other one, well other than being a little boy crazy she's not bad. And this one," he said pointing at America without looking at her, "has lost all value due to her inability to contain her emotions" America hung her head.