by Kiera Cass
His eyes sparkled with delight at his speech. It was the first time I’d seen him impassioned like that. And I could understand it. Though I didn’t long for power myself, I was aware of the appeal.
He continued to stare at me, and I felt something warm trickle through my veins. Maybe it was because we were alone, or because he seemed so sure of himself, but I was suddenly very aware of him. It felt as if every nerve in my body was attached to every nerve in his, and as we sat there, a strange electricity began filling the room. Clarkson circled his finger on the table, refusing to look away. My breathing sped up, and when I let my eyes drop to his chest, it looked as if his had, too.
I watched his hands move. They looked determined, curious, sensual, nervous . . . a list went on in my head as I stared at the little paths he drew on the table.
I’d dreamed of him kissing me, of course, but a kiss was rarely only that. Certainly he’d hold my hands or my waist or my chin. I thought of my fingers, still rough from years of labor, and worried what he would think if I touched him again. At the moment, I desperately wanted to.
He cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the spell. “I should probably escort you back to your room. It’s late.”
I pressed my lips together and looked away. I’d watch the sunrise with him if he asked me.
He stood, and I followed him into the main hall. I wasn’t sure what to make of our late, brief date. It felt more like an interview, if I was honest. The thought made me giggle, and he looked at me.
“What’s so funny?”
I debated saying that it was nothing. I wanted him to know me, and that would eventually mean me getting past my nerves.
“Well . . .” I hesitated. This is how you learn about each other, Amberly. You speak. “You said you liked me . . . but you know nothing about me. Is that how you usually act with girls you like? Do you interrogate them?”
He rolled his eyes, not angrily but as if I should already understand. “You forget. Until very recently, I’d never—”
The sound of a door crashing open startled us out of our conversation. I recognized the queen instantly. I started to curtsy, but Clarkson pushed me sideways into another hallway.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” The king’s voice boomed across the floor.
“I refuse to talk to you when you’re like this,” the queen replied, her speech faintly slurred.
Clarkson put his arms around me, shielding me even more. But I suspected he needed the embrace more than I did.
“Your spending this month is outrageous!” the king roared. “You can’t go on like this. It’s that kind of behavior that sends this country into the hands of the rebels!”
“Oh, no, dear husband,” she replied, her voice drenched in fake sweetness. “It will send you into the hands of the rebels. And believe me—no one will miss you when it does.”
“Get back here, you conniving bitch!”
“Porter, let me go!”
“If you think you can bring me down with a handful of overpriced gowns, you are mistaken.”
There was the sound of one of them striking the other. Instantly, Clarkson let me go. He grabbed one of the door handles and turned, but it was locked. He moved to the other, and it opened. He grabbed my arm and forced me inside, shutting the door behind us.
He started pacing, gripping his hair with his hands as if he was tempted to rip it all out. He moved to the couch, grabbed a pillow, and tore it to threads. When he’d finished with that one, he moved on to a second.
He smashed a small end table.
Threw several vases against the stonework of the fireplace.
Tore the curtains.
Meanwhile, I pressed my body against the wall by the door, trying to make myself invisible. Maybe I should’ve run or gone for help. But I didn’t think I could leave him alone, not like that.
When it looked as if he’d gotten most of his anger out of his system, Clarkson remembered I was there. He stormed across the room and stopped in front of me, a finger pointing at my face. “If you ever tell anyone what you heard, or what I did, so help me, God . . .”
But I was shaking my head before he finished. “Clarkson . . .”
The angry tears glistened in his eyes as he continued. “You never let on, you understand?”
I raised my hands to his face, and he flinched. I paused and tried again, moving even slower this time. His cheeks were warm, slightly tinged with sweat.
“There’s nothing for me to tell,” I vowed.
His breathing was so fast.
“Please, sit,” I urged. He hesitated. “Just for a moment.”
He nodded.
I pulled him to a chair and settled on the floor beside him. “Put your head between your knees and breathe.”
He looked at me questioningly but obeyed. I put my hand on the back of his head, running my fingers over his hair and down his neck.
“I hate them,” he whispered. “I hate them.”
“Shhh. Try and calm down.”
He looked up. “I mean it. I hate them. When I’m king, I’m sending them away.”
“Hopefully not to the same place,” I muttered.
He took a breath. And then he laughed. It was a deep, genuine laugh, the kind you can’t stop even if you want to. So he could laugh. It was buried, that was all, hidden behind all the other things he had to feel and think and manage. He made much more sense now, and I’d never take one of his smiles for granted again. Those must be so much work for him.
“It’s a miracle they haven’t torn down the palace.” He sighed, finally calming down.
Risking his flying off the handle again, I dared a question. “Has it always been like that?”
He nodded. “Well, not so much when I was little. They can’t stand each other now, though. I’ve never figured out where it came from. They’re both faithful. Or, if they’re having affairs, they’re doing an excellent job of hiding them. They have everything they need, and my grandma told me they used to be very much in love. It makes no sense.”
“It’s a hard position to be in. Theirs. Yours. Maybe it just wore on them,” I offered.
“So that’s it, then? I’m going to be him, my wife will be her, and we’ll eventually implode?”
I reached up and put my hand on his face again. He didn’t flinch this time. Instead, he leaned into my touch. Though his eyes were still marked with worry, he did seem to be soothed by it.
“No. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. You like order? Then plan, prepare. Imagine the king, husband, and father you want to be, and do whatever it takes to get there.”
He looked at me, almost with pity. “It’s adorable that you think that’s all it takes.”
CHAPTER 5
I’D NEVER HAD A PHYSICAL before. I realized that if I did become princess, they would probably become a regular part of my life, and that horrified me.
Dr. Mission was kind and patient, but I was still uncomfortable letting a stranger see me naked. He took my blood, did numerous X-rays, and poked at me all over, looking for anything that might be amiss.
I felt exhausted when I left. Of course, I hadn’t slept well, and that didn’t help. Prince Clarkson had left me at my door with a kiss on my hand. And between being elated over the touch and worried about how he was feeling, it took me forever to fall asleep.
I walked into the Women’s Room, a little nervous to look Queen Abby in the eye. I worried that she might have a visible mark on her somewhere. Of course, she could have been the one who hit the king. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
But I was positive I didn’t want anyone else to.
She wasn’t there, so I moved to sit with Madeline and Bianca.
“Hey, Amberly. Where were you this morning?” Bianca asked.
“Sick again?” Madeline followed.
“Yes, but I’m doing much better now.” I wasn’t sure if the physical was a secret or not, but I decided discretion was best for now.
&n
bsp; “Good, because you’ve missed everything!” Madeline leaned in and whispered. “There are rumors that Tia slept with Clarkson last night.”
My heart sank. “What?”
“Look at her.” Bianca glanced over her shoulder to where Tia was sitting with Pesha and Marcy by the window. “See how smug she looks.”
“That’s against the rules,” I said. “It’s against the law.”
“Hardly the point,” Bianca whispered. “Would you turn him down?”
I thought about the way he’d looked at me last night, the way his fingers had glided on the surface of the table. Bianca was right; I wouldn’t have said no.
“Is it true, though? Or just a rumor?” After all, he’d been with me for part of the night. Not all of it, though. There were plenty of empty hours between him leaving me and showing up for breakfast.
“She’s being very coy about the whole thing,” Madeline griped.
“Well, it’s really none of our business.” I picked up the playing cards they’d haphazardly slung around the table and started to shuffle.
Bianca threw back her head and sighed loudly, and Madeline placed her hand on mine. “It is our business. It changes the entire game.”
“This isn’t a game,” I answered. “Not to me.”
Madeline was about to say more, but the door flew open. Queen Abby stood in the entrance, looking furious.
If she had a bruise on her, she’d hid it very well.
“Which one of you is Tia?” she demanded. The entire room looked toward the window where Tia sat frozen, as pale as a sheet. “Well?”
Tia slowly raised her hand, and the queen marched back to her, murder in her eyes. I hoped whatever reproach Tia was about to get, the queen would escort her from the room for it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the plan.
“Did you sleep with my son?” she asked, not bothering to be discreet at all.
“Your Majesty, it’s a rumor.” Her voice was barely a squeak, but the room stilled to such a degree that I was aware of Madeline’s breaths.
“That you have done nothing to stop!”
Tia stuttered, starting maybe five different sentences before choosing one. “If you leave rumors be, they die. Vehemently denying something always implies guilt.”
“So do you deny this or not?”
Trapped.
“I didn’t, my queen.”
If she told the truth or if she lied, I didn’t think it mattered. Tia’s fate was sealed before a word was said.
Queen Abby grabbed Tia by a fistful of hair and started pulling her toward the door. “You’re leaving right now.”
Tia screamed in pain and protested. “But only Prince Clarkson can do that, Your Majesty. It’s in the rules.”
“So is not being a whore!” the queen shrieked in return. Tia lost her footing and slipped so that the queen was literally holding her aloft by her hair. She stumbled to keep up as Queen Abby pushed her onto the floor in the hallway. “GET! OUT!”
She slammed the door and immediately turned to the rest of us. She took her time raking her eyes over our faces, making sure we knew her power.
“Let me make something very clear,” she began quietly, gliding slowly past chairs and couches of girls, looking glorious and terrifying at once. “If one of you little brats thinks you can come into my house and take my crown, think again.”
She stopped in front of a cluster of girls near the wall. “And if you think you can act like trash and still end up on the throne, you have another think coming.” She dug her finger into Piper’s face. “I will not stand for it!”
Piper’s face was flung back by the force of the queen’s finger, but she didn’t react to the pain until after Queen Abby had passed.
“I am queen. And I am beloved. If you want to marry my son and live in my home, you will be everything I tell you to be. Obedient. Tasteful. And silent.”
She wove her way through the tables and stopped in front of Bianca, Madeline, and me. “From now on your only job is to show up, be a lady, sit there, and smile.”
Her eyes met with mine as she ended her speech, and, stupidly, I thought that was a command. So I smiled. The queen was not amused, and she pulled back and slapped it off my face.
I let out a grunt and fell into the table. I didn’t dare move.
“You have ten minutes to clear out. You will be receiving the rest of your meals in your rooms today. I don’t want to hear so much as a peep out of any of you.”
I heard the door shut but still had to check. “Is she gone?”
“Yes. Are you okay?” Madeline asked, coming to sit in front of me.
“My face feels like it burst open.” I pulled myself up, but the throb from my cheek pulsed down my body.
“Oh, my goodness!” Bianca cried. “You can see her handprint.”
“Piper?” I called. “Where’s Piper?”
“Here,” she said through tears. I stood up, and she was already walking toward me.
“Is your face all right?” I asked.
“It hurts a little.” She ran her hand over the place where the queen had pushed her, and I could see a half-moon shape from her nail.
“There’s a little mark, but some makeup should cover it.”
She fell into my arms, and we held each other.
“What got into her?” Nova asked, voicing all our thoughts.
“Maybe she’s really protective of her family,” Skye offered.
Cordaye huffed. “It’s not like we haven’t seen the way she drinks. I could smell it on her.”
“She’s always so nice on TV.” Kelsa held herself, confused by the whole thing.
“Listen,” I said, “one of us will know what it feels like to be queen. Even from the outside, the pressure looks unmanageable.” I stopped to rub my cheek. It was burning. “For now, I think we should all avoid the queen as much as possible. And let’s not mention this to Clarkson. I don’t think talking poorly about his mother, no matter what she did, would be good for any of us.”
“We’re supposed to ignore this?” Neema asked outraged.
I shrugged. “I can’t force you. But that’s what I’ll be doing.”
I pulled Piper close again, and we all stood there, silent. I’d hoped maybe I’d form bonds with these girls over music we liked or learning to apply makeup. I never imagined it would be a unanimous fear that would bind us like sisters.
CHAPTER 6
I DECIDED I WOULD NEVER ask him. If Prince Clarkson was intimate with Tia, I didn’t want to know. And if he wasn’t and I asked, it would be like breaking our trust before we even built it. More likely than not it was a rumor, no doubt started by Tia herself to intimidate the rest of us, and look where that landed her.
These things were better off ignored.
What I couldn’t ignore was the throbbing pain in my face. Hours after the queen struck me, my cheek was still red and pulsing with pain.
“Time for new ice,” Emon said, giving me another wrap.
“Thank you.” I handed her the old one.
When I came back to my room begging for something to help with the ache, my maids asked which Selected girl had hit me, vowing they would go immediately to the prince. I’d told them several times it was none of the girls. A servant wouldn’t do it. And as far as they knew, I’d been in the Women’s Room all morning, so that only left one option.
They didn’t ask. They knew.
“I heard while I was fetching ice that the queen will be taking a brief vacation alone next week,” Martha said, sitting on the floor by my bed. I’d sat facing the window, my view equally split between palace wall and open sky.
“You did?”
She smiled. “It seems the number of visitors has taken a toll on her nerves, so the king has asked her to take some time for herself.”
I rolled my eyes. He yells about expensive dresses, then sends her on a holiday. I wouldn’t complain, though. A week without her felt like heaven right now.
“Does it still hurt?
” she asked.
I averted my gaze and nodded.
“Don’t worry, miss. By the end of the day, it’ll all be gone.”
I wanted to tell her the pain wasn’t the real problem. My true worry was that this was one sign of many that life as a princess might be challenging at best. At worst it would be horrific.
I tallied through what I knew. The king and queen loved each other at one point, but now they worked to contain their hatred. The queen was a drunk and consumed with possessing the crown. The king, at the very least, was on the edge of a breakdown. And Clarkson . . .
Clarkson was doing his best to come across as resigned, calm, controlled. But underneath that, his laugh was childlike. And when he broke, it was a miracle he managed to find all the pieces of himself again.
It wasn’t as if I was a stranger to suffering. At home I worked to the point of exhaustion. I endured sweltering heat. Even though being a Four should offer some level of security, I lived close to poverty.
This would be a new hardship to endure. That was, of course, if Prince Clarkson chose me.
But him choosing me would mean he loved me, right? And wouldn’t that make it all worth it?
“What are you thinking about, miss?” Martha asked.
I smiled and reached for her hand. “The future. Which is pointless, I suppose. What comes will come.”
“You’re a sweet one, miss. He’d be lucky to have you.”
“And I’d be lucky to have him.”
It was true. He was everything I ever wanted. It was all the strings attached to him that frightened me.
Danica slipped into another pair of Bianca’s shoes. “They’re a perfect fit! Okay, I’ll take these, and you take my blue ones.”
“Done.” Bianca shook Danica’s hand and grinned from ear to ear.
No one told us to stay out of the Women’s Room for the rest of the week, but all the girls opted to do just that. Instead, we gathered in groups and hopped from bedroom to bedroom, trying on one another’s clothes and talking the way we always did.
