“I know what you mean.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to be like that. But I get so angry. Sometimes I feel like I know too much, or that I’ve done things I can’t make right, and it just hovers over me. And when I see things happen that shouldn’t . . .”
“You don’t know what to do with yourself.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded. “Well, I’d start by thinking about what’s good. Then I’d ask myself how I could make that good even better.”
I laughed. “That doesn’t make sense.”
He stood. “You just think about it a bit.”
As I walked back to the palace, I tried to figure out where I might know him from. Maybe he’d passed through Carolina before he worked for the palace. Plenty of Sixes drifted. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d seen, he hadn’t let it bring him down. I should have asked for his name, but we seemed to be running into each other a lot, so I figured we’d meet again soon. When I wasn’t in an awful mood, he was actually a pretty decent guy.
After cleaning up, I made my way to my room, still thinking about the stable keeper’s words. What was good? How could I make it better?
I picked up the envelope with my money in it. I didn’t need to use a cent of it at the palace, so all of it went to my family. Usually.
I scribbled a note to Mom.
Sorry it’s not as much this time. Something came up. More next week. Love you, Aspen.
Shoving a little less than half of my earnings in an envelope with the letter, I pushed it aside and pulled out another piece of paper.
I knew Woodwork’s address by heart, seeing as I’d written it out for him a dozen times. Illiteracy seemed more common than most people knew, but Woodwork was so worried about people thinking he was stupid or worthless that I was the only guard he’d trusted with his secret.
Depending on lots of things—where you lived, how large your school was, if it was more Seven heavy—a person might make it through a decade of instruction and know next to nothing.
I couldn’t say Woodwork slipped through the cracks. He was pushed into a gaping hole.
And now, we had no idea where he was, how he was doing, or if Marlee was even still there for him.
Mrs. Woodwork,
It’s Aspen. We’re all sorry about your son. I hope you’re doing okay. This was the last of his compensation. Just wanted to make sure you got it. Take care.
I debated saying more. I didn’t want her to think she was getting charity, so brevity seemed best. But maybe from time to time, I could send her something anonymously.
Family was good, and Woodwork’s was still around. I had to try and help them.
CHAPTER 8
I WAITED UNTIL I WAS sure everyone was asleep before I opened America’s door. I was thrilled to find her still awake. I’d been wishing she’d wait up for me, and the way she sort of tilted her head and shifted closer made me think she’d hoped I’d be here tonight.
I left the door open as always and bent down by her bed. “How have you been?”
“All right, I suppose.” But I could tell she didn’t mean that. “Celeste showed me this article today. I’m not sure I want to get into it. I’m so tired of her.”
What was it with that girl? Did she think she could torture people and manipulate her way to a crown? Her continued presence here was one more example of Maxon’s horrible taste.
“I guess with Marlee gone, he won’t be sending anyone home for a while, huh?”
It looked like it took all of her energy to muster up a sad little shrug.
“Hey.” I moved a hand to her knee. “It’s going to be all right.”
She gave me a weak smile. “I know. I just miss her. And I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?” I asked, moving to a more comfortable position to listen.
“Everything.” Her voice was so desperate. “What I’m doing here, who I am. I thought I knew.” She fidgeted her hands, like maybe she could catch the right words. “I don’t even know how to explain it right.”
I looked at America and realized that losing Marlee and finding out the truth about Maxon’s character had exposed her to truths she didn’t want to think were out there. It sobered her up—maybe too quickly. She seemed paralyzed now, afraid of taking any kind of step because she didn’t know what would fall apart along the way. America had seen me lose my father and deal with Jemmy’s beating, and she’d watched as I struggled to keep my family fed and safe. But she’d only seen that; she hadn’t experienced it. Her family was intact, save her loser brother, and she’d never really lost anything.
Except maybe you, you idiot, a part of me accused. I shook the thought away. This moment was about her, not me.
“You know who you are, Mer. Don’t let them try to change you.”
She twitched her hand, like she might reach down and touch mine. She didn’t, though.
“Aspen, can I ask you something?” Concern still painted every corner of her face.
I nodded.
“This is kind of strange, but if being the princess didn’t mean I had to marry someone, if it was just a job someone could pick me for, do you think I could do it?”
Whatever I had been expecting, that wasn’t it. I had a hard time believing she was even still considering becoming the princess. Then again, maybe she wasn’t. This was hypothetical, and she’d said to think about it without her being linked to Maxon.
Considering the way she’d handled everything that had happened publicly, I could guess she’d feel helpless when confronted with the things that happened behind closed doors. She was great at a lot of things, but . . .
“Sorry, Mer. I don’t. You don’t have it in you to be as calculating as they are.” I tried to convey that I wasn’t insulting her. If anything, I was happy she wasn’t that person.
She furrowed her thin eyebrows. “Calculating? How so?”
I exhaled, trying to think of how to explain this without being too specific. “I’m everywhere, Mer. I hear things. There’s a lot of turmoil down South, in the areas with a heavy concentration of lower castes. From what the older guards say, those people never particularly agreed with Gregory Illéa’s methods, and there’s been unrest down there for a long time. Rumor has it, that was part of why the queen was so attractive to the king. She came from the South, and it appeased them for a while. Not so much anymore it seems.”
