Princess of Illéa

Chapter 27 - Courage

The four of us from the royal family leave through the same side door as we entered. It is only in the presence of the three of us that Clarkson decides to speak.

"That stupid girl!" he almost shouts.

"Clarkson..." Mom scolds him.

"I think she was completely right." I mutter, not expecting any of them to hear me.

I was very wrong. The three of them look at me, Mom and Maxon with wide eyes, Clarkson extremely furious.

"What?!" he says, his voice giving me goose bumps, I'd rather he shouted at me than use this voice that scares anyone.

He takes a step forward approaching me. This time I don't step back.

"You planned this for America. You know very well that the conviction is unfair." I pluck up the courage to say. I swallow before continuing. "You've hated her since day one."

When he takes another step closer to me Mom holds him by the arm, afraid of what might be about to happen.

"You have no right to talk to me like that!" his voice rises, he's almost shouting. "YOU BITCH!"

And then before he can do anything else, I find myself doing something I never imagined I would do in my entire life. I raise my hand and slap Clarkson across the face. I only realize my action after I hear gasps of shock coming from Maxon and my mother and after I see Clarkson with an expression of complete shock, not expecting me to do that, putting a hand on the cheek where I slapped him. I pull back the arm I slapped him with and cover my mouth with both hands, not believing what I've just done. I can see in his eyes that he's about to do something to me.

Silvia is my savior. She arrives before the king can do anything. She takes us to where the Selected are. Clarkson gives me one last look, a look I'll never forget for how cold and cruel it is, before looking back at Silvia and following her. Mom, Maxon and I follow right behind. I feel Mom's arm around my waist, a protective gesture.

Clarkson opens the doors of the room where the Elite girls are with force, just as America screams, "Maybe the rules are wrong!"

Mom, Maxon and I wait in the hallway. He takes angry steps towards America, grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the room, towards the corridor we're in.

"Where are you taking me?" America asks, and I see fear in her eyes.

My eyes meet Celeste's. She hugs herself, as if trying to protect herself.

"Clarkson, don't act in haste," mom advises him.

Clarkson leads America into a room, and the three of us follow close behind. He throws her against a sofa, forcing her to sit down.

"Sit," he commands.

He starts walking in circles, practically snorting with rage. Suddenly he stops and faces Maxon.

"You swore! You said she was under control. First the outburst on the Report, then you nearly get yourself killed on the roof, and now this? It ends today, Maxon."

"Father, did you hear the cheers? People appreciate her sympathy. She's your greatest asset right now."

"I beg your pardon?" his voice sounds deadly.

"When she suggested that people defend themselves, the public responded positively. I dare say the reason more people aren't dead is because of her. And this? Father, I couldn't put a man in jail for life over what was supposed to be a petty crime. How can you expect that from someone who's probably seen more than her fair share of friends beaten for less? She's refreshing. The majority of the population is in the lower castes, and they relate to her."