The Selection Stories Collection

by Kiera Cass

  I felt a little nervous. Relating to the queen was one thing, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about the king. While the other girls watched him eagerly, I sipped my juice.

  “Please come an hour before the Report to the lounge on the first floor. If you’re not familiar, don’t worry. The doors will be open, and there will be some music playing. You’ll hear us before you see us,” he said with a chuckle. The others giggled lightly in return.

  Soon after, girls started making their way to the Women’s Room. I sighed. Sometimes that room, huge as it was, made me feel claustrophobic. I usually tried to interact with people or use the time to read. This would be a Celeste day. I was going to park myself in front of the television and zone out.

  It was easier said than done. The girls seemed particularly chatty today.

  “I wonder what the king wants to know about us,” Kriss gabbed.

  “We just have to remember everything Silvia taught us about poise,” Elise commented.

  “I hope my maids have a good dress for tomorrow night. I don’t want to have to go through what I did for Halloween. They’re so scatterbrained sometimes.” Celeste sounded put out.

  “I wish the king would grow a beard,” Natalie said wistfully. I peeked over my shoulder to see her stroking an imaginary beard on her own chin. “I think he’d look good.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Kriss said graciously before moving on.

  I shook my head and tried to focus on the ridiculous show in front of me, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t tune out the words of the other girls.

  By lunch I was a ball of nerves. What would he want to say to me—the girl from the lowest caste left in the competition? What would he want to discuss with the girl he expected so little from?

  King Clarkson was right. I heard the floating melody from the piano long before I found the lounge. The musician was good. Better than me, that was for sure.

  I hesitated before walking in. I decided to pause before I spoke, really think about my words. I realized I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove that reporter wrong, too. Even if I lost, I didn’t want to go home a loser. I was surprised by how much this suddenly meant to me.

  I stepped through the doorway, and the first thing I saw was Maxon standing along the back wall of the room talking to Gavril Fadaye. Gavril was sipping wine as opposed to tea, and he’d suddenly lost Maxon’s attention. I saw Maxon’s eyes rake over me, and I could have sworn his lips made the shape of a Wow.

  I turned my head and blushed, walking away. I took the risk of glancing at him again and saw that he was watching me move. It was hard to think rationally when he looked at me that way.

  King Clarkson was talking to Natalie in one corner, and Queen Amberly was with Celeste in another. Elise was sipping her tea, and Kriss was walking around the room. I watched as she passed Maxon and Gavril, giving Gavril a warm smile. She said something, which they both chuckled at, and kept walking, peeking over her shoulder at Maxon once as she did so.

  After that she made her way to me. “You’re late,” she jokingly scolded.

  “I was feeling a little nervous.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. It was actually kind of fun.”

  “You’re already done?” If the king was finished speaking with at least two girls, I’d have less time to compose myself than I thought.

  “Yes. Sit with me. We can have some tea while you wait.”

  Kriss pulled me over to a table, and a maid approached us immediately, setting tea, milk, and sugar in front of us.

  “What did he ask you?” I pressed.

  “Actually, it was very conversational. I don’t think he’s trying to get any information exactly, more like he’s trying to get a feeling for our personalities. I made him laugh once!” she gushed. “It went really well. And you’re naturally funny, so if you just talk like you would to anyone else, you’ll be fine.”

  I nodded before picking up my tea. She made it sound all right. Maybe the king had to compartmentalize himself. When it came to dealing with threats to the country, he had to be decisive, cold. He had to act quickly and deliberately. This was just tea with a bunch of girls. There was no need for him to be that way with us.

  The queen had moved away from Celeste and was now speaking softly to Natalie. The look on Natalie’s face was adoring. For a while I’d been irritated by her dreamy disposition; but she was simple, and it was refreshing.

  I sipped my tea again. King Clarkson drifted over to Celeste, and she gave him a seductive smile. It was a little disturbing. Where were her boundaries?

  Kriss leaned over to touch my dress. “That fabric is amazing. With your hair, you look like a sunset.”

  “Thank you,” I said, blinking my eyes. The light had caught on her necklace, an explosion of silver on her throat, and it blinded me for a moment. “My maids are very talented.”

  “Absolutely. I like mine, but if I become princess, I’m stealing yours!”

  She laughed, maybe meaning her words as a joke, maybe not. Either way, something about my maids hemming her clothes bothered me. I forced a smile though.

  “What’s so funny?” Maxon asked, walking over.

  “Just girl talk,” Kriss said flirtatiously. She was really on tonight. “I was trying to calm America. She’s nervous about speaking to your father.”

  Thank you for that, Kriss.

  “You don’t have a thing to worry about. Be natural. You already look fantastic.” Maxon gave me an easy smile. He was clearly trying to open up our lines of communication again.

  “That’s what I said!” Kriss exclaimed. They shared a quick look, and there was this feeling of them being on a team. It was strange.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your girl talk. Good-bye for now.” Maxon gave us both a short bow and went over to join his mother.

  Kriss sighed and watched Maxon go. “He’s really something.” She gave me a quick smile and went to talk to Gavril.

  I watched the elaborate dance of the room, couples coming together to speak, separating to find new partners. I was even happy to have Elise join me in my corner, though she didn’t say much.

  “Oh, ladies, the time has gotten away from us,” the king called. “We need to make our way downstairs.”

  I looked up at the clock, and he was right. We had about ten minutes to get down to the set and prepare ourselves.

  It didn’t seem to matter how I felt about being a princess, or how I felt about Maxon, or how I felt about anything. The king clearly thought I was so unlikely a candidate that he didn’t even want to bother speaking with me. I was excluded, perhaps on purpose, and no one even noticed.

  I held it together through the Report. I even made it through dismissing my maids. But once I was alone, I broke down.

  I wasn’t sure how I’d explain myself when Maxon came knocking, but that ended up not mattering. He never showed. And I couldn’t help but wonder whose company he was enjoying instead.

  CHAPTER 15

  MY MAIDS WERE GIFTS. THEY didn’t ask about the puffy eyes or the tear-stained pillows. They merely helped me pull myself together. I allowed myself to be pampered, grateful for the attention. They were wonderful to me. Would they be this nice to Kriss if she managed to win and took them away?

  I watched them as I debated, and I was surprised to notice a tension among them. Mary seemed mostly fine, maybe a little worried. But Anne and Lucy looked like they were deliberately avoiding eye contact with each other and not speaking unless they absolutely had to.

  I couldn’t begin to guess at what was happening, and I didn’t know if it was my place to ask. They never intruded on my sadness or anger. I supposed it was only right that I do the same for them.

  I tried not to let the silence bother me as they did my hair and dressed me for a long day in the Women’s Room. I ached to put on one of the luxurious pants that Maxon had given me for Saturday use, but this seemed like a bad time for that. If I was heading down, I wanted to be a lady about it.
Points to me for effort.

  As I settled in for another day of tea and books, the others chatted about the night before. Well, all of them except for Celeste, who had more gossip magazines waiting to be read. I wondered if the one in her hands said anything about me.

  I was debating trying to take it when Silvia came in with a thick pile of paper in her arms. Great. More work.

  “Good morning, ladies!” Silvia crooned. “I know you usually wait for guests on Saturdays, but today the queen and I have a special assignment for you.”

  “Yes,” the queen said, walking over to us. “I know this is short notice, but we have visitors coming next week. They will be touring the country and stopping by the palace to meet all of you.”

  “As you know, the queen is usually in charge of receiving such important guests. You all saw how she graciously hosted our friends from Swendway.” Silvia gestured over to Queen Amberly, who smiled demurely.

  “However, the visitors we have coming from the German Federation and Italy are even more important than the Swendish royal family. And we thought this visit would be an excellent exercise for you all, especially since we’ve been so focused on diplomacy lately. You will work in teams to prepare a reception for your respective guests, including a meal, entertainment, and gifts,” Silvia explained.

  I gulped as she continued.

  “It is very important for us to maintain the relationships we have as well as to forge new ones with other countries. We have outlines of proper etiquette for interacting with these guests, as well as guides for what’s typically frowned on when hosting events for them. However, the actual execution is in your hands.”

  “We wanted to make it as fair as possible,” the queen said. “I think we’ve done a good job of putting you all on the same field. Celeste, Natalie, and Elise, you will be organizing one reception. Kriss and America, you will take care of the other. And since you have one less person, you will have one more day. Our visitors from the German Federation will be coming on Wednesday, and we’ll be receiving guests from Italy on Thursday.”

  There was a short moment of silence as we took that in.

  “You mean we have four days?” Celeste screeched.

  “Yes,” Silvia said. “But a queen has to do this work alone and sometimes on far less notice.”

  The panic was palpable.

  “Can we have our papers, please?” Kriss asked, holding out her hand. Instinctively, I put mine out as well. Within seconds we were devouring the pages.

  “This is going to be tough,” Kriss said. “Even with the extra day.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured her. “We’re going to win.”

  She laughed nervously. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because,” I said decisively, “there’s no way I’m letting Celeste do better than me.”

  It took two hours to read through the packet and one more to digest everything it said. There were so many different things to consider, so many details to plan. Silvia claimed she would be at our disposal, but I had a feeling asking for help would make her think we couldn’t do a good enough job on our own, so that was out.

  The setup was going to be challenging. We weren’t allowed to use red flowers because they were associated with secrecy. We weren’t allowed to use yellow flowers because they were associated with jealousy. And we weren’t allowed to use purple anything because that color was associated with bad luck.

  The wine, food, everything had to be opulent. Luxury wasn’t seen as showing off; it was meant to make a statement about the palace. If it wasn’t good enough, our guests might leave unimpressed and completely unwilling to meet with us again. On top of all that, the regular things we were supposed to have learned—speaking clearly, proper table manners, and the like—had to be adapted to a culture of which neither Kriss nor I had any knowledge besides what was printed in our packets.

  It was incredibly intimidating.

  Kriss and I spent the day taking notes and brainstorming while the others did the same thing at a nearby table. As the afternoon wore on, our groups started complaining back and forth about who had the worse situation, and after a while it was actually kind of funny.

  “You two at least get another day to work,” Elise said.

  “But Illéa and the German Federation are already allies. The Italians might hate everything we do!” Kriss worried.

  “Do you know we’re supposed to wear dark colors for ours?” Celeste complained. “It’s going to be a very … rigid event.”

  “We probably don’t want it to be floppy anyway,” Natalie said, doing a little shimmy. She laughed at her own joke, and I smiled before moving on.

  “Well, ours is supposed to be superfestive. And you all have to wear your best jewelry,” I instructed. “You need to make a great first impression, and appearances are very important.”

  “Thank goodness I’ll get to look good at one of these stupid things.” Celeste sighed, shaking her head.

  In the end, it was clear we were all struggling. After everything that had happened with Marlee and then being somewhat dismissed by the king, I felt strangely comforted to know we were miserable together. But it would be a lie to say that paranoia didn’t take over before the end of the day. I was convinced that one of the other girls—Celeste in particular—might try to sabotage our reception.

  “How loyal are your maids?” I asked Kriss at dinner.

  “Very. Why?”

  “I wonder whether we should store some things in our rooms instead of in the parlor. You know, so the other girls don’t try to take our ideas.” It was only a tiny lie.

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea. Especially since we go second, and it would look like we copied them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re so smart, America. It’s no wonder Maxon liked you so much.” And she went back to eating.

  I didn’t miss her casual use of the past tense. Maybe while I’d been worrying about being good enough to be a princess and feeling completely unsure I wanted to be one at the same time, Maxon was forgetting all about me.

  I convinced myself that she was just trying to make herself feel more confident about her standing with Maxon. Besides, it had only been a few days since Marlee was caned. How much could she possibly know?

  The piercing scream of a siren jerked me from my sleep. The sound was so foreign, I couldn’t even begin to process what it was. All I knew was that my heart was pounding in my chest from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

  Before a second had passed, the door to my room flew open and a guard ran in.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he repeated.

  “Huh?” I said groggily as he raced over to me.

  “Get up, Mer!” he urged, and I did as he said. “Where are your damn shoes?”

  Shoes. So I was going somewhere. Only then did the sound make sense to me. Maxon had told me once before that there was an alarm for when the rebels came, but it had been thoroughly dismantled in a recent attack. It finally must have been repaired.

  “Here,” I said, finding and slipping my feet into them. “I need my robe.” I pointed to the end of the bed, and Aspen grabbed it, trying to open it for me. “Don’t bother, I’ll carry it.”

  “You need to hurry,” he said. “I don’t know how close they are.”

  I nodded, heading for the door, Aspen’s hand on my back. Before I hit the hallway, he jerked me toward him. I found myself in a deep, rough kiss. Aspen’s hand was behind my head, holding my lips to his for one long moment. Then, as if he forgot the danger, his other hand pulled my waist to his, and the kiss deepened. It had been a long time since he’d kissed me this way—between my fickle heart and the fear of being caught, there was no reason to. But I could feel an urgency tonight. Something might go wrong, and this could be our last kiss.

  He wanted to make it count.

  We stepped apart, barely taking a second to look at each other one more time. He put his hand around my arm and pushed me out the door. “G
o. Now.”

  I dashed for the secret passage hidden at the end of the hall. Before I pushed the wall, I looked behind me and caught sight of Aspen’s back as he ran around the corner.

  There was nothing I could do but run myself, so I did. As quickly as I could manage, I made my way down the steep, dark stairs to the safe room reserved for the royal family.

  Maxon had told me once that there were two kinds of rebels: Northern and Southern. The Northern ones were pesky, but the Southern ones were deadly. I hoped whatever I was running from was more interested in disturbing us than in killing.

  As I descended the stairs, the cold set in. I wanted to throw on my robe, but I worried I might trip. I felt steadier as the light of the safe room came into view. I leaped from the last step, and I could see a figure standing out among the shapes of the guards. Maxon. Though it was late, he was still in his suit pants and his shirt, slightly rumpled but presentable.

  “Am I the last?” I asked, pulling on my robe as I approached.

  “No,” he answered. “Kriss is still out there. So is Elise.”

  I looked behind me at the darkened corridor that seemed to go on forever. In either direction, I could make out the skeletons of three or four stairways stemming from their secret origins in the palace above. They were empty.

  If anything Maxon had told me was true, his feelings for Kriss and Elise were limited. But there was no mistaking the concern for them in his eyes. He rubbed his temple and craned his neck, as if that would really help in the dark. We looked past each other, watching the stairs as guards milled around the door, clearly anxious to close it.

  Suddenly he sighed and put his hands on his hips. Then, with no warning at all, he embraced me. I couldn’t help but clutch him to my chest.

  “I know you’re still probably upset, and that’s fine. But I’m happy you’re safe.”

  Maxon hadn’t touched me since Halloween. It hadn’t even been a week, but for some reason, it felt like an eternity. Maybe because so much had happened that night, and even more had happened since.