Kriss Ambers || THE SELECTION

☆ You Have To Be Queen ☆

"His heart is soft, August," Kriss said. "He's not a plaything or puppet for you."

August raised his eyebrows at her, "And that's exactly what I'm saying, Kriss," he answered, languidly, "He's a decent man. Could be a decent king. But his heart is soft. Weak. He won't survive this cruel war and politics. Not unless there's someone besides him, guiding him, anchoring him."

Kriss glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "So you want to puppeteer me instead then," she replied, though she couldn't help but think of how he wasn't exactly wrong.

"Hey, don't keep saying puppeteer as though I'll blackmail you into killing somebody," August protested. "Besides, that was always the plan, wasn't it?"

"You came here because of the crown. I remember you protesting about the indignity of fighting for a man's affection with other women. How so insulting. The only reason you agreed, was that so you could steal the diaries of Gregory Illéa for us and become queen."

"I thought that would be unlikely!" Kriss argued. "I didn't come here for becoming a queen. You know that. That was overexaggeration from the start. I just agreed to find the diaries."

"Yes, for the diaries and also for making a connection with Maxon enough to put forth the cause of our rebellion." August corrected. "As an ambassador of sorts."

Kriss nodded, "And I've done that. My part in this is finished."

"No." August gave her a serious look. "Once you become tangled in politics, your part is never finished. I should know, I was born in this."

"Exactly, you were born in it," Kriss emphasized, "I wasn't. I don't have to remain here. America can become Maxon's queen and everything would be a fairytale. I'll just go back to my books and research for the North Rebellion. That is my job."

August's stare became piercing, "Oh, you want to be a coward, then?"

Kriss bristled, getting ready to retort.

"Because you'll be running away from every hope of a fair and safe Illéa that you've - we've- worked so hard for. That I and hundreds of others have invested our whole life into. Maxon and America might be some of the only ones wishing to end the caste system, but that's not where it ends. The Southern Rebellion want to attack. And so do other countries. Nobody's a real fan of Illéa, if you've noticed. The second they see an opening, they'll declare war."

"But war... you've heard of what it did to our country the first time. Illéa is the result we have gotten. Do you really want something worse to materialize? And do you think that Maxon and America will be able to prevent or survive it?"

Kriss flinched slightly.

August looked squarely into her eyes, "They're good people, Kriss, no doubt. But they're inexperienced and naive. They're not strong enough to withstand the shitstorm that's about to hit us. You are," he held her shoulders. "And you need to be here to protect this country. You need to be the queen."

Kriss backed away from his hold, "And what about you, August? You're the true heir of the line of Illéa. You've always eventually planned to overthrow the Schreave rule." She accused.

"I don't want to be king," August said.

Kriss rolled her eyes mockingly, "Oh, we're playing mimic now? You're fit to be a king far more than I'm fit to be a queen. You've lived your whole life in some leadership position. You're trained as a king would be. There's no reason for you not to be the king."

"Trained as a king, only in so much more gruesome ways, " August reminded while smiling drily, making Kriss think back to the scars she had seen on his body, "Even ignoring the fact that you excluded my personal wishes about it-" he flashed her a sarcastic grin to which she just raised an eyebrow, " it is not that easy."