The Guard Read Free Page B

advisor took notes furiously. “I’m sure the girls have learned a lesson today, but tell Silvia to up the work on their decorum.” He shook his head. “I can’t begin to imagine what possessed that girl to do something so stupid. She was the favorite.”
    Maybe your favorite, I thought, crossing the room. His desk was wide and dark, and I quietly reached for the bin that held his outgoing mail.
    “Also, make sure we keep an eye on that girl who ran.”
    My ears perked up, and I moved slower.
    The advisor shook his head. “No one even noticed her, Your Majesty. Girls are such temperamental creatures; if anyone asked, you could just blame it on her erratic emotions.”
    The king paused, pushing back in his chair. “Perhaps. Even Amberly has her moments. Still, I never liked the Five. She was a throwaway, never should have made it this far.”
    His advisor nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t you simply send her home? Concoct a reason to eliminate her? Surely it could be done.”
    “Maxon would know. He watches those girls like a hawk. No matter,” the king said, snapping back to his desk. “She’s clearly not qualified, and sooner or later it will all surface. We’ll get aggressive if we have to. Moving on, where was that letter from the Italians?”
    I scooped up the mail and gave a quick unacknowledged bow before leaving the room. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I wanted America as far away from Maxon’s hands as possible. But the way King Clarkson talked about the Selection made me think there was something more there, maybe something dark. Could America fall victim to one of his whims? And if America was a “throwaway,” was she here by design? Brought specifically to be dismissed? If so, was there one girl who was expressly meant to be chosen? Was she still here?
    At least I’d have something to think about while I stood outside America’s door all night.
    I thumbed through the mail, reading addresses as I walked.
    In the small post room, three older men sorted the incoming and outgoing mail. There was one bin marked selected that spilled over with letters from admirers. I wasn’t sure how much of that the girls ever saw.
    “Hey there, Leger. How you doing?” Charlie asked.
    “Not great,” I confessed, placing the mail in his hands, not risking it being lost in a pile.
    “We’ve all seen better days, haven’t we? At least they’re alive.”
    “Did you hear about the girl who ran for them?” Mertin asked, spinning around in his chair. “Isn’t that something?”
    Cole turned, too. He was a pretty quiet guy, perfectly suited for the mail room, but even he was curious about this.
    Nodding, I crossed my arms. “Yeah, I heard.”
    “What do you think?” Charlie asked.
    I shrugged. It seemed that most people felt that America had acted heroically, but I knew that if anyone said that in front of someone who devoutly adored King Clarkson, they might find themselves in serious trouble. For now, neutrality was best.
    “The whole thing is a little crazy.” I’d leave the perception of crazy good or crazy bad to him.
    “Can’t deny that,” Mertin commented.
    “Gotta get to my rounds,” I said, ending the conversation. “See you tomorrow, Charlie.” I gave him a little salute and he smiled.
    “Stay safe.”
    I went down the hall to the storeroom to grab my staff, though I didn’t see the purpose behind it. I preferred the gun.
    As I rounded the stairs and landed on the second floor, I saw Celeste coming toward me. The moment she recognized my face, her whole demeanor shifted. It seemed that unlike her mother, she was at least capable of feeling shame.
    She walked up to me cautiously, then stopped. “Officer.”
    “Miss.” I bowed.
    Her features looked sharp as she stood there, thinking over her words. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew the conversation we had last night was meant to be purely professional.”
    I nearly laughed in her face. Her hands might have stayed safely on my