The Guard

“That’s a pretty serious limp, Leger. Are you up for this?” he asked.

My blood drained, and I pictured myself going into a rage much like Maxon had. There was no way in hell I wasn’t going.

“I’m perfectly fine, sir,” I vowed.

Markson looked me over again. “We need a strong team for this. Maybe you should stay behind.”

“No, sir,” I answered quickly. “I’ve never disobeyed an order, sir. Don’t make me do it now.”

My eyes were dead serious, and I was sure that was what he saw when I stared him down, determined to go. There was a half smile on his face when he nodded and started heading toward the trees.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. We would call out for America, and stop to listen for a reply, finding ourselves fooled by the slightest motion or breeze. Someone would find a footprint, but the dirt was so dry, the mark would have disintegrated into nothing two steps later, leaving us with little more than wasted time. Twice we found scraps of clothes caught in low branches, but nothing matched what America was wearing. The worst was the few drops of blood we found. We stopped for an hour to look through every cloistered tree, explore any speck of dirt that might have been upturned.

The evening was coming on, and soon we would lose the light.

While the others marched forward, I stood still for a minute. In any other scenario, I would have found this beautiful. The light filtered down, almost like it wasn’t sunshine at all, but its ghost. The trees reached for one another, like they were desperate for company, and the entire feeling of the place was somewhat haunting.

And I had to brace myself for the possible reality that I would leave this place and not have her with me. Worse, I might leave it carrying her body.

The thought was crippling. What would I fight for in this world if I wasn’t fighting for her?

I was trying to look for the good. She was the only good in me.

I bit back the tears and stood strong. I would just have to keep fighting.

“Be sure to look everywhere,” Markson reminded us. “If they’ve killed her, they might have hung her or tried to bury her. Pay attention.”

His words made me feel sick again, but I pushed past them. “Lady America!” I cried out.

“I’m here!” I trained my ears on the sound, too afraid to believe. “I’m over here!”

America came running, shoeless and dirty, and I holstered my gun to open my arms for her.

“Thank goodness.” I sighed. I wanted to kiss her then and there. But she was breathing and in my arms, and that would have to be enough. “I’ve got her! She’s alive!” I called to the others, watching as the uniforms came toward us.

She was trembling a little, and I could tell she was stunned from the whole experience.

Injured leg or not, I was keeping her in my arms no matter what. I cradled her to me, and she put her hands behind my head, holding on. “I was terrified we were going to find your body somewhere,” I confessed. “Are you hurt?”

“My legs a little.”

I peeked down, and there were some bloody cuts. All things considered, we were lucky.

Markson stopped in front of us, trying to contain his happiness at finding her. “Lady America, are you injured at all?”

“Just some scratches on my legs.”

“Did they try to hurt you?” he continued.

“No. They never caught up to me.”

That’s my girl.

All the faces wore gleefully shocked expressions at this news, but Markson was by far the happiest. “None of the other girls could have outrun them, I don’t think.”

America let out a breath and smiled. “None of the other girls is a Five.”

I laughed, hearing the others do the same. Not every experience in the lowers was useless.

“Good point.” Markson gave me a pat on the shoulder while he looked at America. “Let’s get you back.” He led the way, shouting out more instructions.

“I know you’re fast and smart, but I was terrified,” I told her as we moved.

She put her mouth to my ear. “I lied to the officer.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered back.

“They did catch up with me, eventually.” I stared at her, wondering what was so bad that she didn’t want to confess it in front of the others. “They didn’t do anything, but this one girl saw me. She curtsied and ran off.”

Relief set in. Then confusion. “Curtsied?”

“I was surprised, too. She didn’t look angry or threatening at all. In fact, she just looked like a normal girl.” She paused a minute before adding, “She had books, lots of them.”

“That seems to happen a lot,” I told her. “No clue what they’re doing with them. My guess is kindling. I think it’s cold where they stay.”

It seemed more and more apparent that the rebels just wanted to ruin everything the palace had—its fine things, its walls, even its sense of safety—and taking the king’s prized possessions for the sake of having something to burn seemed like a big middle finger to the monarchy.

Had I not seen how cruel they could be firsthand, I would have found it funny.

The others were so close that we kept silent for the rest of the trip, but the walk felt much shorter with America in my arms. I wished it was longer. After today, I didn’t want her anywhere I couldn’t see her.

“The next few days might be busy for me, but I’ll try to come see you soon,” I whispered as the palace came into view. I’d have to give her back to them now.

She tilted in toward me. “Okay.”

“Take her to Doctor Ashlar, Leger, and you’re off duty. Good job today,” Markson said, slapping my back again.

The halls were still full of staff cleaning up from the first attack, and the nurses were so quick when we got to the hospital wing that I didn’t get to speak to America again. But as I laid her on the bed, looking at her tattered dress and sliced legs, I couldn’t help but think this was all my fault. When I traced the steps back to the very start, I knew that it was. I had to start making up for it.

America was sleeping when I crept into the hospital wing that night. She was cleaner, but her face still seemed worried, even at rest.

“Hey, Mer,” I whispered, rounding her bed. She didn’t stir. I didn’t dare sit, not even with the excuse of checking on the girl I rescued. I stood in the freshly pressed uniform I would only wear for the few minutes it took to deliver this message.