by Kiera Cass
“I know,” he answered solemnly. “Which is why I wonder . . .”
“Wonder what?”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to decide if he should continue. “It’s easiest to learn new languages when you’re a child. And it can be taught later in life, but the accent will probably always be bad. Henri simply has a difficult time retaining it. At the rate he’s going, it would be years before you’d be able to carry on the most basic conversations. And the nuances of languages—slang and colloquialisms—would take years beyond that. Do you understand what that would mean?”
That I wouldn’t be able to communicate with him for who knew how long. By the time the Selection should end, we still would hardly know each other.
“I do.” Two small words, but they felt massive, like they were filling up the entire hallway, crushing me.
“I just thought you should know that. I wanted you to be aware of what things might look like if you had developed feelings for him, too.”
“Thank you,” I breathed.
“Do you?” he asked suddenly. “Have feelings for him?”
I’d been so emotional already that the question sent me into a tailspin. “I honestly have no idea how I feel about anything.”
“Hey.” He reached out a hand before thinking better of it. “I’m sorry. I was being nosy. That’s really none of my business, and you’re obviously having a rough day. I’m an ass.”
I wiped at my nose. “No. You’re trying to be a good friend. To him, to me. It’s no big deal.”
He tucked his hands behind his back. “Well, I am, you know?”
“Huh?”
He sighed, seeming embarrassed. “Your friend. If you need one.”
It was such a simple offer, yet generous in a million ways. “I couldn’t imagine having a better one.”
He beamed but was quiet. It seemed like the times when we were silent were some of the easiest.
Eventually he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you have work to do, but I hate leaving you alone when you feel so bad.”
“No. I kind of prefer it.”
Erik gave me a halfhearted smile. “If you say so.” He bowed. “Hope your day gets better.”
“It already has,” I promised, walking around him to get into my room, a kind smile on my face.
“Miss?” Neena asked as I came through the doorway. I couldn’t imagine how awful I looked.
“Hi, Neena.”
“Are you all right?”
“Not exactly, but I’ll get there. Can you bring me the Selection forms, please? I have work to do.”
Though the confusion on her face was plain, she did as I asked. She also brought a box of tissues.
“Thank you.” I thought I was past the worst of it, but I did tear up again as I looked at the pictures, wondering who was maybe here despite having reservations and hating each of them on the off chance it applied to them all.
“Neena, could you get me some paper?”
Once again she obeyed, bringing a cup of tea along with a notebook. She really was too good.
I tried to plot out my week. Apsel’s application said he played the piano, so I’d arrange for us to work on duets tomorrow morning; and in the early evening I’d walk outside with Tavish. Monday would be tea with Gunner and a photography walk with Harrison. Dad would probably love that.
I finished my plans and set down my pile of papers beside me. Without a word, Neena started a bath. I sipped the last of my tea and put the cup back on the table next to the pot so she wouldn’t have to go hunting for it later.
In the bathroom, steam was filling the air, and I planted myself in front of the mirror, pulling pins out of my hair. Between the soothing water and Neena’s calming presence, I was free from most of Baden’s harsh words by the time I was ready to dry off.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Neena asked quietly, pulling a brush through my hair.
“There’s not much to say. People will throw food at me, people will throw words at me, and I have to be stronger than that if I’m going to survive.”
She let out a disapproving sound, and I watched her troubled eyes in the mirror.
“What?”
Neena stopped brushing for a minute, looking at my reflection. “For all my problems, I’d never trade them for yours. I’m so sorry.”
I pulled myself up. “Nothing to be sorry for. This was what I was born to do.”
“That’s not fair though, is it? I thought eliminating the castes meant that no one was born into anything. Does that apply to everyone except you?”
“Apparently.”
It didn’t matter that Apsel’s skills were so good I praised him endlessly. And it didn’t matter that the photos of Tavish and me in the garden were positively beautiful. With all the work I put in, neither of those things were headline material Monday morning.
Above the pictures of me and my dates was an entirely different story.
IT’S WORK! screamed the headline above a candid shot of me yawning. An “exclusive source” had shared that I felt the Selection process was “more work than anything” and that “we make it look exciting.” All I could think about was how badly I wanted to hurt Milla Warren.
I couldn’t blame her completely though. Baden’s exposé on how staged the Selection was helped nothing. He described me at length as frigid, two-faced, and distant. He spoke of our one charming moment alone and then my intentional disconnection from him, and said there was no way he could have stayed in the palace, living under such a lie. I knew it was likely that he was paid an exorbitant amount of money for his story and that he was probably worrying about a mountain of debt for his education. But I felt certain he would have said it all for free.
Juxtaposing those stories with the one of my weekend dates cheapened everything about them. It was a waste of effort and worse, it was visibly taking a toll on Dad. Weeks had passed, he still had no idea how to address the caste issues, and pockets of rioters were calling for the end of the monarchy.
I was failing in every possible way.
After breakfast I went to my room, looking at my plans for the day. Were they worthless now? Was there a way to make these dates better?
I heard a knock and turned to see Kile standing at the door. I ran into his arms without a second thought.
“Hey,” he said, holding me tight.
“I don’t know what to do. Everything’s just getting worse and worse.”
He pulled back and lowered his eyes to meet mine. “Some of the guys are confused. They don’t know if they’re being used. Eadlyn,” he continued in a whisper, presumably so Neena wouldn’t hear his words, “I know our first kiss was for show. Is it all for show? If it is, you need to come clean.”
I stared into his eyes. How had I ever thought he was anything less than smart and funny and handsome and kind? I didn’t want to respond in a whisper, so I signaled for Neena to leave, and once she had closed the door behind her, I faced him again.
“It’s complicated, Kile.”
“I’m a very intelligent person. Explain.”
His words were calm, an invitation more than a demand.
“If you had asked me the night before everyone came, I would have said it was all a joke. But it’s not anymore, not to me.” The words shocked me. I’d fought caring about these boys, and I was still terrified of them getting closer. Even now, Kile was walking the edge of my comfort zone, and I was unsure how I’d manage if he pushed himself over the line.
“You matter to me,” I confessed. “A lot of you do. But do I think I’ll get married?” I shrugged. “I can’t say.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Either you want this or you don’t.”
“That’s not fair. When your name was called, did you want to participate? Would you say the same thing now?”
I didn’t realize how tense he’d become until he let out a breath and closed his eyes. “Okay. I can understand that.”
“It’s been harder than I though
t, with so many disasters along the way. And I’m not as good at showing my emotions as other girls, so it comes across like I don’t care, even when I do. I like to keep things to myself. It looks bad, I know, but it’s real.”
He’d been around me long enough to know it was true. “You need to address this. You need to say something publicly about that story,” he insisted, his eyes focused on mine.
I rubbed my temple. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if I somehow make it worse?”
He poked my stomach, something we hadn’t done since we were children. “How can the truth make anything worse?”
Well, that confirmed all my anxieties. Admitting how much this meant to me now might also mean owning up to the origins of this particular Selection. With the way things were going, that wouldn’t win me any sympathy.
He turned me around and pointed me toward my table and chairs. “Here. Let’s sit for a minute.”
I sat beside him, piling up some of the dress ideas I had been working on.
“Those are impressive, Eadlyn,” he remarked.
I gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, but it’s really just a bunch of scribbles.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t make it seem like it’s not important.”
I remembered those words, and they soothed me.
Kile pulled over a handful of the pencils and started some sketches of his own.
“What are you drawing?” I asked, looking at the little boxes.
“An idea I’ve been experimenting with. I’ve been reading about some of the poorer provinces. One of their bigger issues is housing right now.”
“Because of the manufacturing boom?”
“Yeah.” He continued to sketch, making practically perfect straight lines.
Dad did what he could to encourage more industrial growth in some of the primarily agricultural provinces. It was good for everyone if things could be processed where they were grown. But as that took off, more and more people moved to be closer to those areas, meaning not everyone had adequate housing.
“I know a little bit about how much it costs to get supplies, and I figured out that it’d be possible to build these smaller huts, basically like family cubicles, fairly inexpensively. I’ve been playing with the idea over the last few weeks. If there was someone I could get the design to, they might be able to implement it.”
I looked at the little structure, barely as big as my bathroom, abutted against an identical box. They each had a door and a side-facing window. A little tube at the top caught rainwater, and a small bucket collected it by the door. Vents lined the top, and a small tarp jutted out in front, shading the front of the space.
“They look so tiny though.”
“But they’d feel like a mansion if you were homeless.”
I exhaled, thinking that was probably true. “There can’t be space for a bathroom in there.”
“No, but most people use facilities inside the plants. That’s what I read anyway. This would be strictly for shelter, which means workers would be more rested, have better health . . . and there’s just something special about having a place to call your own.”
I watched Kile, his eyes focused on the extra little details he was adding to his work. I knew that hit home for him, that he was aching for anything that truly belonged to him. He pushed the paper away gently, adding it to the others.
“Not nearly as exciting as a ball gown, but that’s all I know how to draw,” he concluded with a laugh.
“And you do it so well.”
“Eh. I just wanted to distract you for a minute, but I don’t know what else to do.”
I reached over and held his hand. “That you came at all is enough. I shouldn’t let myself sulk too much anyway. I need to come up with a plan of action.”
“Like talking about it?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I have to speak with my dad first.”
I could tell he thought I was being silly, but he didn’t know what was going on. Not really. And even as someone in the know, it was hard to understand.
“Thanks for coming, Kile. I owe you one.”
“You owe me two. I’m still waiting for that chat with my mom.” He winked, not too upset I hadn’t delivered yet.
My promise was still in the back of my head, and I’d had more than one opportunity to bring it up with Miss Marlee. But now I was the problem, not her. It was getting harder to imagine the palace without Kile around.
“Of course. I haven’t forgotten.”
He poked my stomach again, and I giggled. “I know.”
“Let me go talk to my parents. I need to figure out what to do.”
“Okay.” He put an arm around me and walked me out the door, parting with me at the stairs. From there I went straight to the office, nervous about how tired Dad looked when I came in and cleared my throat.
He popped his head up from the papers, shoving the stack of them into a drawer as if I wouldn’t see. “Hey, sweetie. I thought you were going to be working on the Selection side of things this week.”
“Well, that was the plan, but I’m wondering if that will even be of any help right now.”
He was crestfallen. “I don’t know how this happened, Eadlyn. I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. Baden exaggerated things, but the barest points of his story were real. And with the mayor, I said those things out loud, it’s true. But I was simply venting about the work of it all. Ask Mom; she was there. Everything got twisted around.”
“I already spoke to her, honey, and I’m not upset with you. I just can’t understand why Milla would do that. It’s like everyone is taking aim at us right now. . . .” He kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say more, but he was so confused by the overwhelming unhappiness of the public, he didn’t know where to start.
“I’m trying, Dad, but I don’t think it’s good enough. Which made me wonder if maybe we wanted to try something different.”
He shrugged. “I’m up for most anything at the moment.”
“Let’s switch the focus. No one trusts me right now. Let’s bring Camille in for a visit and let people see how in love Ahren is with her. He always does much better in the spotlight. I can come in and talk about their influence on me, and then we can pick up with the Selection shortly after, try to blend one love story into another.”
He stared at his desk, contemplating. “I don’t know where you get some of your ideas, but that’s inspired, Eadlyn. And I think Ahren will be beside himself. Let me make a call and see if she can even come before we say anything, all right?”
“Absolutely.”
“I want you to plan a party for her. You two should know each other better than you do.”
As if I didn’t have anything else to worry about. “I’ll start at once.”
He picked up the telephone, and I went back to my room, hoping this would be enough to get things back on the right track.
CHAPTER 30
TWO DAYS LATER I WAS standing on the tarmac next to my giddy brother, who was holding an obnoxiously large bouquet in his hands.
“Why don’t you get me flowers like that?”
“Because I’m not trying to impress you.”
“You’re worse than those boys back at the palace,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s going to be the queen of France. Girls like us are hard to amaze.”
“I know.” He looked idiotically happy. “Guess I’m just lucky.”
The stairs lowered from the plane, and two guards came down before Camille. She was a willowy thing, blond and petite, with a face that looked eternally well rested and excited. In person and in print, I’d never seen her wearing anything that remotely resembled a frown.
There was protocol to follow, but Ahren and Camille bypassed it, running into each other’s arms. He held her tightly and kissed every corner of her face, ruining half of his flowers in the process. Camille laughed as he peppered her with affection, and I felt a little awkward standing there, waitin
g for it to end so I could say hello.
“I have missed you so!” she cried, her accent making each word sound like a surprise.
“I have so much to show you. I asked Mom and Dad to make you a permanent suite so you will always have the best room when you come.”
“Oh, Ahren! So generous for me!”
He turned, grinning from ear to ear, suddenly recalling my presence. “You remember my sister, of course.”
We curtsied to each other, and she rose elegantly. “Your Highness, so nice to see you again. I bring gifts for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. Here is a secret,” she said, leaning in. “You can wear all of them.”
I perked up. “Wonderful! Maybe I’ll have to use some of it at the party I’m throwing for you tonight.”
She gasped and placed both hands on her chest. “For me?” She turned her blue eyes on Ahren. “Really?”
“Really.”
It was strange to see him with this look in his eyes, like maybe he was in the middle of an act of worship, prepared to sacrifice anything to please Camille.
“Your family is so good to me. Let’s go. I’m dying to see your mother.”
I tried to keep up with them on the ride back to the palace, but Ahren spoke mostly in French for her benefit, and since I had chosen to master Spanish, I was completely in the dark. Once we got home, Mom, Dad, Kaden, and Osten were all waiting on the front stairs for us. Positioned on the edges of the steps, trying to be inconspicuous, were several photographers.
Ahren exited first, holding out his hand to help Camille. When I scooted over and reached for him, it turned out he’d already run off with Camille, who was rushing into my mother’s arms.
Mom, Dad, and Kaden all knew French and were greeting her warmly. I walked over to Osten, who looked like he was itching to climb on something.
“What are you up to today?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Go find the Selected guys and ask them awkward questions. Report back.”
He laughed and went running.
“Where’s he off to?” Dad asked quietly.
