"Ouch," I mumble as I prick my finger for the third time, pinning my most recently developed photos to the wall above my desk. Mostly they are just pictures taken in the gardens.

More recently though, I've started broadening my horizon, taking photos of people or abstract detail within the stone walls of the castle I call my home.

I turn as I hear a knock on my door. "Come in," I call, turning back to my project at hand. A maid enters with a tray balanced in one hand and a note in the other.

"Your afternoon tea Your Majesty," She says, placing the tray on a table.

"Thank you," I say, nodding to her. "Is that all?" I glance at the note in her hand.

"A note your Majesty," She replies with a smile.

Placing the stack of photographs onto my already cluttered desk I turn fully towards her. "Thank you," I say, taking the paper from her hands. "You may go."

She curtsies and turns quickly, closing the door behind her and leaving me again on my own. I open the letter, expecting to find another note telling me I am needed in a meeting or from my mother.

Instead I find the familiar handwriting of America.

Your Majesty -

I laugh at this.

Tugging my ear. Whenever.

The smile immediately drops off my face at this, as my mind runs through all the possible reasons for her to write me a note rather than just waiting to see me at dinner. I drop the paper onto the floor and am in the hall in seconds. Without bothering to grab my coat or fix my hair I all but sprint to her room, only to find she is not there.

"Your Majesty," one of her maids answers the door, swooping into a low curtsy. I catch a glimpse of the other two following suit behind her.

"Is America here?" I question, out of breath.

"No your highness," her maid replies. "She left hours ago."

"Do you know where she went?" I pant, trying to catch my breath.

"You could try the womens room," suggests the youngest maid from the back.

"Thank you ladies," I reply, turning an starting toward the staircase leading to the womens room. I trade in my sprint for a light jog as I hurry down the hallways. What had happened? Is she sick? Hurt? Worry spreads through me like wildfire. Is it her family? Was there an attack. I don't know what I would do if her beloved family had been hurt because I hadn't provided enough protection.

Skidding around another corner I catch sight of bright red hair. A sense of relief spreads through me as I get close enough to see that she is not physically ill.

"America?"

She turned, looking surprised when she sees me Then she freezes and the worry returns.

"Are you okay?" I demand, grabbing her wrists. "What's wrong?"

A look of confusion sweeps across her beautiful face as she replies, "Nothing. I'm fine."

I breath a sigh of relief, but not stopping searching her body for broken bones or bruises. "Thank goodness. When I got your note, I thought you were sick or something had happened to your family."

She looks surprised which soon melts into a look of guilt. "Oh! Oh, no Maxon, I'm so sorry. I knew that was a stupid idea. I just didn't know if you'd be at dinner, and I wanted to see you."

"Well what for?" I question, resuming my search for harm to her clean, light skin.

"Just to see you," She replies easily.

I freeze, looking up in surprise. This girl had went through the trouble of having a note delivered to me, just so we could spend time together.

"You wanted to see me?" I ask with happy surprise laced into my voice.

"Don't be so shocked," she laughs. "Friends usually spend time together."

And then it sinks in that she hadn't called on me because there was something wrong or because she had wanted a date. "Ah, you're cross with me because I've been engaged all week, aren;t you?" And she had every right to be. I had been speed dating all week so that the other girls would have something to talk about during the the next report. "I didn't mean to neglect our friendship America," I continue, trying not to wince at the word friendship.

She looks as though she is working to hold back an eye roll. "No, I'm not mad. I was just explaining myself. You look busy. Go back to work, and I'll see you when you're free.

Her words remind me that a meeting would have just started, that I should be at.

"Actually, do you mind if I stay a few minutes? They're having a budget meeting upstairs, and I detest those things.

Assuming she will agree, I pull her by the wrists I am still holding to a sofa a little of the way down the hallway.

She looks at me, giggling, as we sit.

"What's so funny?" I demand.

"Just you," She says with a smile. "It's cute that your job bugs you. What's so bad about the meetings, anyway?"

"Oh America!" I exclaim with an exaggeratedly large sigh. "They go round and round in circles. Father does a good job at calming the advisers, but it's so hard to push the committees in any given direction." I try not to groan as I continue, "Mom is always on Father to give to the school systems - she thinks the more educated you are, the less likely you are to be a criminal, and I agree - but Father is never forceful enough to get them to take away from other areas that could manage perfectly with lower founds. It's infuriating!" I rant. "And it's not like I'm in command so my opinion is easily overlooked."

I let out a tired sigh and rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. I feel America's comforting hand on my back and immediately feel guilty for laying all of this on her.

She surprises me though, when she says, "I'm sorry. On the plus side, you'll have more of a say in the future."

"I know," I murmur. "I tell myself that. But it's so frustrating when we could change things now if they'd only listen," I complain to the carpet.

"Well don't be too discouraged," She says hearteningly. "Your mom is on the right path, but education won't fix everything."

This statement takes me off guard. I can understand that she is only trying to help but I was raised to do this. And my mother has already been doing it. She knows what she's doing. Though I don't mean to sound so accusatory when I look up and say, "What do you mean?"
When she sees my expression, a guilty expression takes over her face. Carefully, she explains, "Well compared to the fancy-pants tutors someone like you has, the education system for sixes and sevens is terrible. I think getting better teachers or better facilities would do a world of good. But then what about the eights? Isn't that the caste responsible for most of the crimes? They don't get any education. I think if they felt they had something, anything at all, it might encourage them.

"Besides," she pauses, seeming to consider how to word her next statement. "Have you ever been hungry? Not just ready for dinner, but starving?"

This takes me off guard. Surely she must know I haven't.

"If there was absolutely no food here, nothing for your mother or father, and you knew that if you just took something from people who had more in a day than you did in your whole life, you could eat… what would you do? If they were counting on you, what wouldn't you do for someone you loved?"

It takes me a minute to answer and I briefly remember our conversation during the first rebel attack on the castle since the selection had started. She had been so concerned about her maids, when it hadn't even crossed my mind as to how safe the staff was.

With her dressed up in the expensive silks and cottons of the castle's it's hard to remember how much of a gap there is between us. It isn't something I want to talk about.

But the same way royalty is not above the law, neither are desperate families.

"America, I'm not saying that some people don't have it hard, but stealing is - "

"Close your eyes, Maxon," She cuts me off.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"Close your eyes."

Frowning, I obey, letting myself relax.

"Somewhere in this palace, there is a women that will be your wife."

The thought makes me smile as I picture my parents, smiling at each other lovingly.

"Maybe you don't know what face it is yet," she continues. "But think of the girls in that room. Imagine the one who loves you the most. Imagine your 'dear.'"

At those words, her face pops into my mind and my hand instinctively moves to hers on the couch between us.

She shies away from the touch.

"Sorry," I mumble, looking sideways at her.

Instead of being mad, or upset though, she just laughs. "Keep 'em closed!"

I laugh too, closing my eyes again.

"This girl? Imagine that she depends on you. She needs you to cherish her and make her feel like the selection didn't even happen. like if you were dropped on your own out in the middle of the country to wander around door to door, she's still the one you would have found. She was always the one you would have picked."

I can feel my smile slowly start to dissolve as it occurs to me for the first time that when this is over and I chose my wife, she'll need me to support her. she'll be my responsibility, the one I have to work for, to encourage.

"She needs you to provide for her and protect her," America starts again. "And if it came to a point where there was absolutely nothing to eat, and you couldn't even fall asleep at night because the sound of her stomach growling kept you awake - "

"Stop it!" I demand, standing quickly, not being able to listen anymore. I walk across the hall, my back to her, staring at the wall.

"Sorry," she whispers quietly.

I nod but don't turn around. Finally I find my voice. "Is it really like that?"

"What?"

"Out there…" I trail off. "Does that happen? Are people hungry like that a lot?"

She sighs. "Maxon, I - "

"Tell me the truth," I say, turning and giving her a hard look.

"Yes. That happens," she concedes. "I know of families where people give up their share for their children or siblings. I know of a boy who was whipped in the town square for stealing food." She squeezes her eyes shut as a pained look comes across her face. "Sometimes you do crazy things when you're desperate."

The story of the boy really hits home for me. "A boy? How old?"

"Nine," She breathes out, as a visible shiver goes through her body.

Then a terrifying thought crosses my mind.

"Have you - " I have to clear my throat before continuing. " - have you ever been like that? Starving?"

She drops her head, staring at the ground. And my heart breaks.

"How bad?"

"Maxon, it will only upset you more," she argues.

"Probably," I agree, nodding darkly. "But I'm only starting to realize how much I don't know about my own country. Please?"

She lets out a sigh. "We've been pretty bad. Most times if it gets to where we have to chose, we keep the food and lose electricity."

I couldn't even imagine having to decide between comfort and hunger. In my entire life, never have I had to go, an hour even, without warmth in the winter, or the comfort of air conditioning in the summer.

"The worst was when it happened near Christmas," she carries on. "It was very cold so we were all wearing tons of clothes and watching our breath inside the house. May didn't understand why we couldn't exchange gifts."

An image of running downstairs on Christmas mornings, in barefeet seeing as I didn't have to worry about being cold, to a mountain of gifts sitting under a ten foot tree, decorated with thousands of ornaments.

Then I picture America, sitting with her family, wrapped in blankets, around a family, having no gifts to exchange, the disappointed looks over her younger siblings when her parents explained that there would be no gifts that year.

"As a general rule, there are never any leftovers at my house," America continues. "Someone always wants more."

I can feel the blood drain from my face as I picture America going to bed hungry. Her younger sister and brother that she speaks so highly of, unable to sleep because of the pain in their stomachs.

In an impossible attempt to make me feel better America adds, "I know the checks we've gotten over the last few weeks have really helped, and my family is very smart about money. I'm sure they've already tucked it away so it'll stretch out for a long time. You've done so much for us Maxon." She tries to offer me a smile but I can't wipe the sad look off my face.

"Good God," I mutter, speaking for the first time. "When you said you were only here for the food, you weren't kidding were you?"

A pained look crosses her face. "Really Maxon, we've been doing pretty well lately. I - "

Before she can finish her thought I cross over to her and place a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you at dinner."

As I walk away, the only thought in my head is, I can never let this happen again. I head fearlessly to my father's office, straightening my tie as I go.