Atlas (A Selection/Hat Films Fanfiction)

~ Twenty Eight ~

"Whatever happens tonight," Gavril Turps said quietly as we languidly walked to the studio, "stay strong. I won't let anything happen to you."

I kept a wide gap between us, to avoid suspicion but to also distance myself from Turps. Even with the time I had been spending with him, especially now that Alex and I weren't talking again, I still didn't fully trust him. I know I would have to eventually ask what his role is in this rebellion, but I was avoiding it, pretending it didn't exist.

I had been doing that with a lot of things lately.

I was shaking from nerves. This would be the boldest thing I would do against the king yet, and Turp's promise felt empty when we were talking about a tyrant. I had practiced my apology in front of the mirror a hundred times, but I would always get scared and second guess the wording and fall apart even in the privacy of my bedroom. I didn't want to assume I would mess up, but I knew I couldn't stop myself from imagining the worst.

"Look straight into the camera, okay?" he instructed, "it's important you sound genuine, like you had thought about it enough not to need a script."

"I'm going to have a script," I warned, gripping the paper and holding it to my chest in case he had the audacity to take it out of my hands.

"Don't just read from it," he told me, "it won't sound like there is any meaning behind the words if you do."

We saw the studio up ahead and cut our conversation off as we neared the people standing outside of it. Prince Ross was there, and he must have been waiting for me because he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on to meet me halfway.

"Hello," he greeted, touching the back of my arm lightly, "you look as beautiful as ever."

I didn't feel it. My maids had been covering my scars with make-up every day, but tonight I instructed them to leave them untouched. They would remind the viewers of the cruel whipping I was forced to apologize for, as if I had caused it.

I had on a black dress that reached up my neck but left my arms fully exposed. It was accessorized with vinyl straps around my chest and a corset that looked more like a breastplate. I was supposed to look like a rebel, but my lack of confidence really brought down the effect of the outfit. I felt like it was too much, but Hannah reassured me that it was just simple enough that it still looked like a fashion choice rather than a political statement.

"Yeah!" I said after an awkward pause, realizing too late that he hadn't asked me a question. "Thank you," I continued quickly, "it's a bold choice." I hoped he thought I was just nervous about giving a speech, instead of worrying about the contents of the speech as well.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, "would you like me to look over it before the report starts?"

I looked down at the paper I was holding; it was starting to get damp from the cold, clamminess of my hands. He wouldn't understand how important every word was, and he might also see the deceitful ways I skirted around topics. "No," I replied, "Thank you, I think I'm ready. Shall we go inside?"

He offered me an arm for the short walk into the studio. I curtsied to him, knowing how badly I was about to disrespect his family in front of the entire country and wanting him to know it wasn't personal. When I took my seat, all the girls were looking at me.

"Goodluck, Atlas," Anouk said evenly, breaking the silence. I watched her warily, knowing she wasn't being genuine. Whatever sweet, girlish charm Anouk had entered the Selection with was gone, and it left a cold, calculating Elite. It was sad to see the way the competition had changed her.

I heard Albany snort, catching my attention. "You're going to need it," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her seat so that I couldn't see her past the other girls.