“I can’t be yours alone with all the other girls here.” Tell me you love me, that you want to be mine alone.” Suddenly, decisively, Maxon faced me, taking my hands in his. Maxon slowly took in my words, and he smiled quietly. “I can.” I smiled, happy with this knowledge. I’d do advertising, pretty much whatever I could. “If things were different and you weren’t the prince, and you could pick what you did for a living, would this be it?” I pointed to the collage. And then something that should have been obvious the whole time suddenly came to me. He did the same to me, and we stood there quietly for a minute, taking it all in. I stepped over and laced an arm behind his back. The girls and I were on the wall so much because we’d taken over his world. But there were also elements that shifted. I could feel the things that were permanent, such as his constant confinement in the palace and the brief bits of traveling. I feel like you make so much more sense now.” I’ve never even thought of keeping a journal or writing things down. I have a few torn pictures of my family and the new one with my sister’s baby, but that’s all. I can’t even tell you how often I wished I could catch snippets of my life and hold on to them like this.
It runs less than halfway through the middle of New Asia. I hear it was once quite spectacular, but now it’s mostly gone. It used to be to the north of what was the Chinese border. “Where is this?” I asked, pointing to the long brick wall. “I used to look at the air, but now I remember how much I hated the smell of it. The image was of some pipes spilling smoke into the sky. I used to think it was interesting, but now it makes me sad.” “I took this one in the very southern part of Honduragua. “Nearly all of them, but ones like this,” he said, pointing to one of the pictures used in the magazines, “I asked for.” He pointed again.
And though they were just taken, pictures of Kriss and Celeste posing in the Women’s Room were up there, too, next to Elise pretending to faint on a couch and me with my arms wrapped around his mother. The other girls were in them, too, the remaining ones more than the others but every once in a while I’d see Anna’s eyes peek out from under a landscape or Marlee’s smile hiding in a corner. And there was another one of me in the night, standing on my balcony and looking at the moon. He must have been hiding behind the blinding lights, stealing little images of us when we were all just being ourselves. One of me shocked when the king and queen of Swendway visited and he’d quickly yelled out “Smile.” One of me sitting on the set for the Report, laughing at Marlee. While I’m staring at the sketch, Maxon’s eyes are slightly turned toward me. I remembered Maxon standing behind me while we looked at designs for my costume. I’d never seen that photo, or the one from the article on Halloween. We seemed happy there, as if it was all a game. There was the picture of me that was taken for my Selection application, and the one of Maxon and me taken for the magazine when I wore that sash. There were a few bridges, and one of a wall-like structure that looked like it went on for miles.īut above all this, I saw my face a dozen times over. I saw an ocean so blue it didn’t seem possible. There were others, maybe of places he hoped to see or had at least visited. Close-ups of tapestries, shots of the ceiling he must have lain flat on the carpet to get, and so many pictures of the gardens. I could see photos that surely had to have been taken by him, because they were of the palace, which was where he was almost all the time. There didn’t appear to be any sort of order to it, just image upon image piled up for him to enjoy. On the wall by Maxon’s door was a vast collage, wide enough to be wallpaper for my room back home. I inhaled sharply, taking in the beautiful display behind him. It was then, looking past his smiling face, that I saw the pictures. I turned to swat at him, glad to see him in a playful mood. “Maxon, you could fit a football team in there,” I teased. I wanted to go and touch it, to see if it felt as good as it looked. His bed, also made from a dark wood, was massive.
#How many pages in the one by kiera cass full#
Near the doors that opened to his private balcony, a glass case full of guns sat, perfectly lined up. I wondered how many lonely meals he’d had here. He had his own collection of books and a table near the fireplace that looked like it was intended for dining rather than work.
#How many pages in the one by kiera cass cracked#
His bathroom door was cracked open, and I could see a porcelain tub on the elaborately tiled floor. The whole thing must have been for show since it never seemed to get cold enough here to justify a fire. On the far wall, a wide fireplace stood, waiting to be used. The paneling was dark, some wood I wasn’t familiar with lining the whole space.
0 kommentar(er)
