Becoming Prince Maxon

The Secret Study

Age: 15

My father led me up the long staircase, not stopping to catch his breath once. I followed, tired from being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Where are we going that could possibly take so long," I mumbled. But Father heard me. "To start your studies."

"At three in the morning?" I complained.
"Yes," my father said bluntly. "I need to at least show you this." I wanted to ask what it was, but had a feeling to keep my mouth shut.
•~~•

After what seemed like fifty flights of going up the winding staircase, Father came to a halt, and I sighed with relief. My father spun around and I instantly straitened up. "Maxon, you must never tell any soul about this place. It is a secret that has stayed within palace walls for generations and I do not intend for it to leave now."

"I swear," I said halfheartedly. "Maxon!" My father said sternly. "Wake up your mind and be serious!"

Right then, I knew this was important. I straitened up even more and with all my energy said "As prince of Illéa, I, Maxon Shreave, swear on my life to keep this secret within palace walls and to not ever tell a soul about it."

My father seemed pleased that I straitened up and said that. He turned, smiling, and punched in a code on a wall security thingy. A door clicked open, and Father walked inside, and I followed suit.

As my eyes lay sight on everything around me, I was in awe. Shelves and shelves of books surrounded us from every corner of the room. In the center of it, there was a table with a few of the books opened or bookmarked. On one wall there was a large computer screen, probably used for research. The books each had a little tag on their spine, and I guessed that was how people sorted them.

"Maxon," Father said motioning me over. I walked over to where he was running his finger over the tags of books until he found the one he was looking for. "Ah. Here it is."

As my father walked around me and to the small little table, I looked at the tags he was searching. But before I could read them, my father called me over.

"What is that, Father?" I asked.
He flipped to a marked page, and then replied "One of Gregory Illéa's journals."

I studied the old paper over my father's shoulder and was intrigued with the delicate tiny writing.

"Tomorrow," my father said. "You will start to read the collection of his journals that we keep here. Every single one will be read and studied before you become king."

And with that, the journal was closed and my father stood.

"What exactly is this place?" I asked.

"What does it look like? It's the secret study."

Want me to write another part? Comment something big from The Selection that ties into Maxon's childhood and I'll write it- creds will go to your account