The Heir

by Kiera Cass

  I frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “You know how your mother and I met,” Dad began.

  I rolled my eyes. “Everyone does. You two are practically a fairy tale.”

  At those words their eyes went soft, and smiles washed over their faces. Their bodies seemed to tilt slightly toward each other, and Dad bit his lip looking at Mom.

  “Excuse me. Firstborn in the room, do you mind?”

  Mom blushed as Dad cleared his throat and continued. “The Selection process was very successful for us. And though my parents had their problems, it worked well for them, too. So . . . we were hoping. . . .” He hesitated and met my eyes.

  I was slow to pick up on their hints. I knew what the Selection was, but never, not even once, had it been suggested as an option for any of us, let alone me.

  “No.”

  Mom put up her hands, cautioning me. “Just listen—”

  “A Selection?” I burst out. “That’s insane!”

  “Eadlyn, you’re being irrational.”

  I glared at her. “You promised—you promised—you’d never force me into marrying someone for an alliance. How is this any better?”

  “Hear us out,” she urged.

  “No!” I shouted. “I won’t do it.”

  “Calm down, love.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not a child!”

  Mom sighed. “You’re certainly acting like one.”

  “You’re ruining my life!” I ran my fingers through my hair and took several deep breaths, hoping it would help me think. This couldn’t happen. Not to me.

  “It’s a huge opportunity,” Dad insisted.

  “You’re trying to shackle me to a stranger!”

  “I told you she’d be stubborn,” Mom muttered to Dad.

  “Wonder where she gets that from,” he shot back with a smile.

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room!”

  “I’m sorry,” Dad said. “We just need you to consider this.”

  “What about Ahren? Can’t he do it?”

  “Ahren isn’t going to be the future king. Besides, he has Camille.”

  Princess Camille was the heir to the French throne, and a few years ago she’d managed to bat her lashes all the way into Ahren’s heart.

  “Then make them get married!” I pleaded.

  “Camille will be queen when her time comes, and she, like you, will have to ask her partner to marry her. If it was Ahren’s choice, we’d consider it; but it’s not.”

  “What about Kaden? Can’t you have him do it?”

  Mom laughed humorlessly. “He’s fourteen! We don’t have that kind of time. The people need something to be excited about now.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And, honestly, isn’t it time you look for someone to rule beside you?”

  Dad nodded. “It’s true. It’s not a role that should be shouldered alone.”

  “But I don’t want to get married,” I pleaded. “Please don’t make me do this. I’m only eighteen.”

  “Which is how old I was when I married your father,” Mom stated.

  “I’m not ready,” I urged. “I don’t want a husband. Please don’t do this to me.”

  Mom reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “No one would be doing anything to you. You would be doing something for your people. You’d be giving them a gift.”

  “You mean faking a smile when I’d rather cry?”

  She gave me a fleeting frown. “That has always been part of our job.”

  I stared at her, silently demanding a better answer.

  “Eadlyn, why don’t you take some time to think this over?” Dad said calmly. “I know this is a big thing we’re asking of you.”

  “Does that mean I have a choice?”

  Dad inhaled deeply, considering. “Well, love, you’ll really have thirty-five choices.”

  I leaped up from my chair, pointing toward the door.

  “Get out!” I demanded. “Get! Out!”

  Without another word they left my room.

  Didn’t they know who I was, what they’d trained me for? I was Eadlyn Schreave. No one was more powerful than me.

  So if they thought I was going down without a fight, they were sadly mistaken.

  CHAPTER 3

  I DECIDED TO TAKE DINNER in my room. I didn’t feel like seeing my family at the moment. I was irate with all of them. At my parents for being happy, at Ahren for not picking up the pace eighteen years ago, at Kaden and Osten for being so young.

  Neena circled me, filling my cup as she spoke. “Do you think you’ll go through with it, miss?” she asked.

  “I’m still trying to figure a way out.”

  “What if you said you were already in love with somebody?”

  I shook my head as I poked at my food. “I insulted my three most likely candidates right in front of them.”

  She set a small plate of chocolates in the middle of the table, guessing correctly that I’d probably want those more than the caviar-garnished salmon.

  “Perhaps a guard then? Happens to the maids often enough,” she suggested with a giggle.

  I scoffed. “That’s fine for them, but I’m not that desperate.”

  Her laughter faded.

  I saw immediately that I had offended her, but that was the truth. I couldn’t settle for any old person, let alone a guard. Even considering it was a waste of time. I needed a way out of this whole situation.

  “I don’t mean it like that, Neena. It’s just that people expect certain things from me.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m done. You can go for the night; I’ll leave the cart in the hallway.”

  She nodded and left without another word.

  I grazed on the chocolates before completely giving up on the food and slipped into my nightgown. I couldn’t reason with Mom and Dad right now, and Neena didn’t understand. I needed to talk to the only person who might see my side, the person who sometimes felt like he was half of me. I needed Ahren.

  “Are you busy?” I asked, cracking open his door.

  Ahren was sitting at his desk, writing. His blond hair was end-of-the-day messy, but his eyes were far from tired, and he looked so much like the pictures of Dad when he was younger it was eerie. He was still dressed from dinner but had taken off his coat and tie, settling in for the evening. “Knock, for goodness’ sake.”

  “I know, I know; but it’s an emergency.”

  “Then get a guard,” he snapped back, returning to his papers.

  “That’s already been suggested,” I muttered to myself. “I’m serious, Ahren; I need your help.”

  Ahren peeked over his shoulder at me, and I could see he was already planning to give in. He used his foot to push out the seat next to him casually. “Step into my office.”

  Sitting, I sighed. “What are you writing?”

  He quickly piled papers on top of the one he’d been working on. “A letter to Camille.”

  “You know you could simply phone her.”

  He grinned. “Oh, I will. But then I’ll send her this, too.”

  “That makes no sense. What could you possibly have to talk about that would fill an entire phone call and a letter?”

  He tilted his head. “For your information, they serve different purposes. The calls are for updates and to see how her day went. The letters are for the things I can’t always say out loud.”

  “Oh, really?” I leaned over, reaching for the paper.

  Before I could even get close, Ahren’s hand gripped my wrist. “I will murder you,” he vowed.

  “Good,” I shot. “Then you can be the heir, and you can go through a Selection and kiss your precious Camille good-bye.”

  He scrunched his forehead. “What?”

  I slumped back into my chair. “Mom and Dad need to boost morale. They’ve decided that, for the sake of Illéa,” I said in mock patriotism, “I need to go through a Selection.”

  I was expecting
abject horror. Perhaps a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. But Ahren threw back his head and laughed.

  “Ahren!”

  He continued to howl, pitching himself forward and hitting his knee.

  “You’re going to wrinkle your suit,” I warned, which only made him laugh harder. “For goodness’ sake, stop it! What am I supposed to do?”

  “As if I know! I can’t believe they think this would even work,” he added, his smile still not fading.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought, if you ever did get married, it’d be down the line. I think everyone assumed that.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  The warm touch I’d been hoping for finally came as he reached for my hand. “Come on, Eady. You’ve always been independent. It’s the queen in you. You like to be in charge, do things on your own. I didn’t think you’d partner up with anyone until you at least got to reign for a while.”

  “Not like I really had a choice in the first place,” I mumbled, tilting my head to the floor but still looking to my brother.

  He gave me a little pout. “Poor little princess. Don’t want to rule the world?”

  I swatted his hand away. “Seven minutes. It should have been you. I’d much rather sit alone and scribble away instead of do all that stupid paperwork. And this ridiculous Selection nonsense! Can’t you see how dreadful this is?”

  “How did you get roped into this anyway? I thought they’d done away with it.”

  I rolled my eyes again. “It has absolutely nothing to do with me. That’s the worst part. Dad’s facing public opposition, so he’s trying to distract them.” I shook my head. “It’s getting really bad, Ahren. People are destroying homes and businesses. Some have died. Dad isn’t completely sure where it’s coming from, but he thinks it’s people our age, the generation that grew up without castes, causing most of it.”

  He made a face. “That doesn’t make sense. How could growing up without those restrictions make you upset?”

  I paused, thinking. How could I explain what we could only really guess at? “Well, I grew up being told I was going to be queen one day. That was it. No choice. You grew up knowing you had options. You could go into the military, you could become an ambassador, you could do plenty of things. But what if that wasn’t really happening? What if you didn’t have all the opportunities you thought you would?”

  “Huh,” he said, following. “So they’re being denied jobs?”

  “Jobs, education, money. I’ve heard of people refusing to let their kids get married because of old castes. Nothing is happening the way Dad thought it would, and it’s nearly impossible to control. Can we force people to be fair?”

  “And that’s what Dad’s trying to figure out now?” he asked, skeptical.

  “Yes, and I’m the smoke-and-mirror act diverting their attention while he comes up with a plan.”

  He chuckled. “That makes much more sense than you suddenly being romantically inclined.”

  I cocked my head. “Let it go, Ahren. So I’m not interested in marriage. Why does that matter? Other women can stay single.”

  “But other women aren’t expected to produce an heir.”

  I hit him again. “Help me! What do I do?”

  His eyes searched mine, and I knew, as easily as I could read any emotion in him, that he saw I was terrified. Not irritated or angry. Not outraged or repulsed.

  I was scared.

  It was one thing to be expected to rule, to hold the weight of millions of people in my hands. That was a job, a task. I could check things off lists, delegate. But this was much more personal, one more piece of my life that ought to be mine but wasn’t.

  His playful smile disappeared, and he pulled his chair closer to mine. “If they’re looking to distract people, maybe you could suggest other . . . opportunities. A possible marriage isn’t the only choice. That said, if Mom and Dad came to this conclusion, they might have already exhausted every other option.”

  I buried my head in my hands. I didn’t want to tell him I tried to offer up him as an alternative or that I thought Kaden might even be acceptable. I sensed he was right, that the Selection was their last hope.

  “Here’s the thing, Eady. You’ll be the first girl to hold the throne fully in her own right. And people expect a lot from you.”

  “Like I don’t already know that.”

  “But,” he continued, “that also gives you a lot of bargaining power.”

  I raised my head marginally. “What do you mean?”

  “If they really need you to do this, then negotiate.”

  I sat up straight, my mind running around in circles, trying to think of what I could ask for. There might be a way to get through this quickly, without it even ending in a proposal.

  Without a proposal!

  If I spoke fast enough, I could probably get Dad to agree to practically anything so long as he got his Selection out of it.

  “Negotiate!” I whispered.

  “Exactly.”

  I stood up, grabbed Ahren by his ears, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “You are my absolute hero!”

  He smiled. “Anything for you, my queen.”

  I giggled, shoving him. “Thanks, Ahren.”

  “Get to work.” He waved me toward the door, and I suspected he was actually more eager to get back to his letter than he was for me to come up with a plan.

  I dashed from the room, heading to my own to fetch some paper. I needed to think.

  As I rounded the corner, I ran smack into someone, falling backward onto the carpet.

  “Ow!” I complained, looking up to see Kile Woodwork, Miss Marlee’s son.

  Kile and the rest of the Woodworks had rooms on the same floor as our family, a singularly huge honor. Or irritation, depending on how one felt about the Woodworks.

  “Do you mind?” I snapped.

  “I wasn’t the one running,” he answered, picking up the books he’d dropped. “You ought to be looking where you’re going.”

  “A gentleman would offer his hand right now,” I reminded him.

  Kile’s hair flopped across his eyes as he looked over at me. He was in desperate need of a cut and a shave, and his shirt was too big for him. I didn’t know who I was more embarrassed for: him for looking so sloppy or my family for having to be seen with such a disaster.

  What was especially irritating was that he wasn’t always so scruffy, and he didn’t have to be now. How hard would it be to run a brush through his hair?

  “Eadlyn, you’ve never thought I was a gentleman.”

  “True.” I pulled myself up without help and brushed off my robe.

  For the last six months I had been spared Kile’s less-than-thrilling company. He’d gone to Fennley to enroll in some accelerated course, and his mother had been lamenting his absence ever since the day he left. I didn’t know what he was studying, and I didn’t particularly care. But he was back now, and his presence was another stressor on an ever-growing list.

  “And what would make such a lady run like that in the first place?”

  “Matters you are far too dim to comprehend.”

  He laughed. “Right, because I’m such a simpleton. It’s a miracle I manage to bathe myself.”

  I was about to ask if he did bathe, because he looked like he’d been running away from anything that resembled a bar of soap.

  “I hope one of those books is a primer on etiquette. You seriously need a refresher.”

  “You’re not queen yet, Eadlyn. Take it down a notch.” He walked away, and I was furious with myself for not getting the last word.

  I pressed on. There were bigger problems in my life right now than the state of Kile’s manners. I couldn’t waste my time quibbling with people or being distracted by anything that couldn’t put the Selection to death.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I WANT TO BE CLEAR,” I said, sitting down in Dad’s office. “I have no desire to
get married.”

  He nodded. “I understand that you don’t want to get married today, but it was always something you’d have to do, Eadlyn. You’re obligated to continue the royal line.”

  I hated it when he talked about my future like that, like sex and love and babies weren’t happy things but duties performed to keep the country running. It took every speck of joy out of the prospect.

  Of all the things in my life, shouldn’t those be the real pleasures, the best parts?

  I shook the worry away and focused on the task at hand.

  “I understand. And I agree that it’s important,” I replied diplomatically. “But weren’t you ever worried when you went through your Selection that no one in the pool was right for you? Or that maybe they were there for the wrong reason?”

  His lips hitched up in a smile. “Every waking moment, and half the time I slept.”

  He’d told me a handful of vague stories about one girl who’d been so pliable he could hardly stand her and another who had tried to manipulate the process at every turn. I didn’t know many names or details, and that was fine with me. I had never liked to imagine Dad possibly falling in love with anyone but Mom.

  “And don’t you think that as the first woman to fully control the crown, there should be . . . some standards set for who might rule beside me?”

  He tilted his head. “Go on.”

  “I’m sure there’s some sort of vetting process in place to make sure an actual psychopath doesn’t make his way into the palace, yes?”

  “Of course.” He grinned as if this wasn’t a valid concern.

  “But I don’t trust just anyone to do this job with me. So”—I sighed deeply—“I will agree to go through with this ridiculous stunt if you make me a few tiny promises.”

  “It’s not a stunt. It’s had an excellent track record. But please, dear girl, tell me what you want.”

  “First, I want the contestants to have the freedom to leave of their own free will. I won’t have someone feeling obligated to stay if they don’t care for me or the life they’d have to lead in the palace.”

  “I fully agree to that,” he said forcefully. Seemed like I had touched a nerve.

  “Excellent. And I know you might be opposed to the idea, but if by the end of this I can’t find anyone suitable, then we call the whole thing off. No prince, no wedding.”