by Kiera Cass
“She’s doing much better now. I can take you to her, but wouldn’t you like to eat first and recover from your trip?” I gestured toward the dining hall.
Grandma had lived in the palace when I was younger, but after years of Mom trying to take care of her, she finally up and left. Her “long journey” was really only an hour across town, but it might as well be from the other side of Illéa for how she behaved about it.
“Now, that would be wonderful,” she said, coming beside me. “See, that’s how you treat your elders. There’s some respect.” Her eyes darted back to the poor guard, who stood there stupefied, with her bag in his hands.
“Thank you, Officer Farrow. Please take that to the guest suite on the third floor overlooking the gardens.”
He bowed and left as we made our way into the room. A few of the boys were already waiting, and their eyebrows raised at the sight of the queen mother. Fox strode up immediately to introduce himself.
“Ms. Singer, such a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.
“Now, he’s a cute one, Eady. Look at this face.” Grandma grabbed his chin, and he laughed through her grip.
“Yes, Grandma, I know. Part of why he’s still here.” I mouthed an apology, but Fox shook his head, positively beaming over her approval.
Gunner, Hale, and Henri all came over to meet her, and I took the chance to speak quietly to Erik.
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
He squinted. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Just planning a little something with Henri.”
“Oh,” he said, shaking his head as if that should have been obvious. “No, we’ll both be free.”
“Okay. Don’t tell,” I insisted.
“Of course not.”
“What?” Grandma shouted. “Say that again?”
Erik hopped over, bowing.
“So sorry, ma’am. Sir Henri was born in Swendway and only speaks Finnish. I’m his translator. He says he’s very pleased to meet you.”
“Oh, that’s right, that’s right.” Grandma took Henri’s hand. “IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, TOO!”
I moved her toward the head table. “He’s not deaf, Grandma.”
“Well,” she said, as if that was enough of an explanation.
“Have you talked to Uncle Gerad?”
“Gerad wants to be here, but he’s working on a time-sensitive project. You know I never understand a word he says.” Grandma waved her arm in the air as if she was slapping away the elaborate words he used. “I heard from Kota, too. He’s not sure if he should stop by or not. Your mother and him, they’ve tried over the years, but they just can’t seem to be civil. He’s gotten better, though. I think it’s that wife of his.”
I ushered her around the table, and she took my seat. Even though it wasn’t permanent, taking Dad’s empty place next to her felt strange. So much had been entrusted to me, yet I felt like I’d stolen something of his.
“Aunt Leah does sound like a rather calming person,” I agreed. “I guess those things matter, balancing each other out.”
The butlers rushed some soup in front of Grandma, knowing how short her patience was. I smiled as she dug in.
“Worked for your grandpa and me. Your parents, too.”
Ignoring my own bowl, I rested my chin on my hand. “What was Grandpa like?”
“Good. Very good. He always wanted to do what was right. He was slower to get upset than I was and didn’t let things get him down. I wish you could have known him.”
“Me, too.”
I let her eat and found my eyes wandering around the room. Kile was my opposite in that he was humble where I was proud. Henri was my opposite in that he saw everything as a joy where I focused on the challenge. Ean, Fox, Gunner . . . there was an element in each of them that would fall on the other side of my spectrum.
“Is the French girl like that for Ahren?” Grandma asked with no attempt to hide her disdain.
I considered this. “No, actually. It’s like they’re two halves of the same heart in different bodies.” My eyes welled. I was so tired, and I missed him so much. “I can’t begin to tell you how much he loves her.”
She grumbled. “Enough to leave.”
I exhaled slowly. “Exactly, Grandma. It hurt him so much to be apart from her that he would endure the pain of leaving his family, his home, and his country, not even knowing how that would all be received, just to be with her.”
She recognized the sadness in my voice and reached out her hand to mine.
“You all right, honey?”
I pulled myself together. “Of course. A little tired is all. I should go rest.” Just then Kaden and Osten came running in, giving me a perfect escape. “The boys will take you to Mom.”
She shrieked in delight. “My boys!”
I backed away while she was distracted, walking quietly down the side of the room until I got to Henri.
I tapped him on his shoulder, and he looked up from his meal, that ever-present smile on his face. “Hello today!”
I chuckled. “Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?”
I waited for Erik to jump in, but Henri held up a hand, concentrating. “Tomorrow, lunch?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good, good! Yes!”
I smiled. “See you then.”
I left the room, peeking back to see Henri clutching Erik by the shoulder, elated by the invitation. He seemed so pleased to have made it through the interaction without needing a translation, too. Erik nodded at Henri, pleased for his friend . . . but I’d seen him smile brighter than that before.
I looked at the clock. Ten after midnight. If I fell asleep right now, I could get about five hours of sleep.
Ten minutes later it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. I used to be so good at shutting off my mind for the day, but now it seemed like every task I was halfway through stayed with me until it was done, not caring if I was well rested enough to tackle it.
I slipped on my robe, combed my fingers through my hair, and stepped barefoot into the hallway. Perhaps if I went to the office I could do some work and appease my brain, and then I could get back to bed. But if I was going to do that, I needed coffee.
It was too late for any maids to be on duty, so I headed to the kitchen. It seemed it was never empty down there, and I was sure someone would help me. Rounding the landing on the second floor, I leaped back, startled by the figure coming right at me.
“Oh!” Erik said, suddenly realizing someone was in his path.
I pulled my robe a little tighter, though I was fully covered, and swept back my hair, hoping to seem less surprised than I had been.
He backed up, fidgeted with his hands a second, and then bowed abruptly. It was such a rushed, sloppy gesture that I couldn’t help but laugh.
He smiled a little himself, shaking his head at the silliness of the moment. He, too, was in his pajamas—striped-blue pants and a plain cotton shirt—and wandering the palace in bare feet.
“What in the world are you doing up at this hour?” I asked.
“Henri has been working especially hard on his English since you announced the Elite. And with a date tomorrow, he wanted to be extra prepared. We only quit for the day a few minutes ago, and I was heading to the kitchen for some tea and honey. Honey is supposed to make you sleep well.” He said all this in a low, hurried voice, as if he was worried he might bore me.
“Is it? I might have to try that tomorrow. I was actually just going to the kitchen for coffee.”
“Your Highness, I feel you’re a very bright woman, so it pains me to tell you that coffee will not help you sleep. Not at all.”
I giggled. “No, I know. I was going to get some work done. I haven’t been sleeping, so I thought I might as well be useful.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re always useful. Even when you sleep.”
I ducked my head, moving around the banister, and he followed me down the steps. All I could think of was how drab h
e had seemed that first day, a grayed-out shadow of a person. I knew now his plainness was his shield, hiding how smart, thoughtful, and funny he was. Though I still didn’t understand the choice, I knew there was more to him than he let most people see.
“How is Henri doing? With the English lessons?”
He shrugged and tucked his hands behind his back. “Good. Not great. What I told you before is still very true; it would be a long time before you could communicate on your own. But he cares so much, he’s been trying harder than ever.” He nodded to himself as if assessing their work in his head. “Forgive me—I should have asked. How are your parents? I heard your mother is awake and recovering.”
“She is, thank you. She was supposed to move back to her room today, but there was something funny about her oxygen levels so they kept her in the hospital wing one more night for good measure. And Dad is still sleeping in a cot by her bed.”
Erik grinned. “It makes the idea of ‘in sickness and in health’ much more real to see it play out in front of you.”
I nodded. “Honestly, sometimes it’s intimidating to watch them. Finding anything close to what they have seems impossible.”
He smirked. “There’s no way to know everything about someone else’s relationship, even your parents’. Sometimes especially your parents’,” he added, as if he’d thought about this before, perhaps about his own family. “I guarantee you—he’s given a terrible Christmas present at least once and has earned himself a day of silence for it.”
“Highly unlikely.”
Erik was unfazed. “You have to embrace the idea of imperfection, even in the thing that is most perfect for you. Your brother whisked away a girl and got married in a whirlwind and could be discovering right now that she snores so loudly, he can’t even sleep.”
I covered my mouth, but not fast enough to smother the laugh that escaped. Something about the image of poor Ahren with pillows slammed over his ears really got me.
“It’s very possible,” he added, looking quite pleased to have made me smile.
“You’ve ruined my image of Camille! How am I supposed to keep a straight face the next time I see her?”
“Don’t,” he said simply. “Just laugh. Your impression of everyone is probably wrong in some way.”
Shaking my head, I sighed. “I’m sure you’re right. Which makes everything I do that much harder.”
“Like the Selection?”
“There are moments when a room full of politicians seems easier to manage than six boys. For everything I’ve learned so far, there must be a dozen things I’ve missed.”
“Relying heavily on gut instincts then?”
“Very heavily.”
“Well, they’ve been spot-on about Henri. He’s as nice as he seems. You must have already known that, though, to keep him in the final pool.” I noticed something off about his tone as he spoke, like this was a disappointing thing to admit.
I clasped my hands together, only just then realizing that we’d moved well past the kitchen. I supposed I could always go back for coffee if I still wanted a cup.
“This whole situation has been a hard one to navigate. I wasn’t supposed to have a Selection. In the past, princesses were married off for international relations, but my parents promised they’d never do that to me. So to find myself with a roomful of boys and be expected to choose a lifelong partner from them . . . it’s scary. All I have to go on are a handful of impressions, and a hope that no one is deceiving me.”
I risked a glance at him, and he was attentive, his expression downcast. “That sounds incredibly frightening,” he said slowly. “I’m surprised it’s worked so well in the past. I don’t want to sound rude, but it does seem a bit unfair.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I said when the idea was presented to me. But they insisted that I try, so . . .”
“So . . . this wasn’t your idea?”
I froze.
“Did you even want it to happen?”
There’s a chill that runs down your back when you realize you’ve been caught in a lie. And it was scary, because this had already been hinted at in the papers, guessed at by plenty of people.
“Erik, this needs to stay between us,” I said quietly, the words coming out more like a request than a command. “I admit, in the beginning, I wanted nothing to do with the Selection. But now . . .”
“Now you’re in love?” he asked, his tone both curious and melancholy.
I laughed once. “I’m a lot of things. Infatuated, frightened, desperate, hopeful. It’d be nice to add ‘in love’ to the list.” I thought of Kile and our conversation in the garden. Love was still too big a word for that, and none of what I’d said to Kile felt appropriate to share with Erik. “Sometimes I think I’m close, but right now, the Selection is something I need to finish. For a lot of reasons. A lot of people, too.”
“I certainly hope you’re one of them.”
“I am,” I promised. “Just maybe not in the way people would think.”
He didn’t answer. He merely walked along, taking in my words.
“You can’t repeat any of that, not to anyone. I can’t believe I said those things to you. If this Selection seems like it was a joke or fake in any way—”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’d never break your confidence. I assume it’s not an easy thing to acquire in the first place, and I’d hate to waste it.”
I smiled. “Well, you more than earned it. You’ve kept secrets for me already, and pulled me out of the middle of a fight, and brought me a flower when you didn’t have to.”
“It was only a dandelion.”
“Perspective,” I reminded him, and he grinned at his words coming back to stare him in the face. “All I’m saying is, you’ve done a lot for me without being under any obligation to do so. You’ve earned my trust.”
“Good,” he said plainly. “Because I’m here for you, anything you need, any time you need it.”
The sincerity in his voice was so painfully clear that I was drawn to a standstill. Erik’s eyes were clear and blue, a stark contrast to his dark hair. Maybe that was why they stood out so brilliantly in the moment.
“Really?” I asked, though I had no reason to doubt his words.
“Of course,” he replied. “You’re going to be my sovereign. It’s a privilege to serve you.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes. Right. Thank you. It’s a comfort knowing there are at least a handful of people I don’t have to break my back to win over.”
His smile was kind, and I reminded myself that this was a victory, to have someone like him on my side.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, stepping away, “I really ought to try to sleep.”
He bowed. “Of course. I know I’m meant to be at Henri’s disposal, but please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help you.”
I smiled, not answering, and strode back to my room, my back as straight as an arrow.
CHAPTER 8
“FOR THE REPORT TONIGHT, THE focus will be on you.” Lady Brice was pacing in front of my desk. It was comforting to watch her elegant steps as she thought everything through. Dad was like that sometimes. He’d make me walk the garden with him while he was trying to unravel a mess.
“I know I don’t have much experience doing this alone, but Gavril will be there to help. And I have an idea how to address my progress with the Selection.”
“Good. It’s about time you brought something to the table,” she teased. “Speaking of the Selection, there’s something else. I’m trying to decide if it’s worth addressing.”
I squinted. “What’s going on?”
“Well,” she started. “Marid Illéa was on another radio program yesterday. We have a recording if you’d like to hear it, but basically, it’s gotten out that he’s visited the palace and that he sent you flowers.”
“So?”
“So he was asked if that meant anything.”
I stared a
t her. “But I’m in the middle of a Selection. How . . . ?”
“He said the same thing, but also said he regretted falling out of touch with you and how beautiful and intelligent you grew up to be.” She raised an eyebrow as I felt my insides flutter a little.
“He said that?”
She nodded.
“Why are we bringing this up?” I tried to even my breaths.
“You need to be aware that you two have been linked in the press. And it could do one of two things: undermine your Selection to the point that it seems you don’t care about it or—”
“How could it undermine it?”
“Well, if it seems like you’re abandoning your suitors for him . . .”
“Got it. What’s the second thing?”
“It could offer up another suitor, if you’re not opposed.”
I laughed. “I’m confident the rules of the Selection are pretty binding. I don’t think I could simply quit it for someone else, could I?”
She shrugged. “He’s pretty popular.”
“Are you advising me to consider him?”
“No. I’m advising you to be aware that this has become public, and you need to be conscious of how you interact with him. And with the Elite.”
“I can do that. Especially since I’ve hardly interacted with him. I don’t want to do anything that might undermine this process. I’ve already accidentally done that so many times, and I want the people to know this matters to me. I’ve done nothing to encourage Marid, and I don’t think it’s worth addressing on the Report.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.” Only for me would a generous act of kindness be twisted into something scandalous.
“And, now don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you wearing tonight?”
I looked down at myself. “I have no idea. I’ve hardly been able to dress myself.”
She studied my clothes. “This will seem like an insult, but trust me when I say that’s not how it’s intended. I think you need to step it up a little. While the clothes you’ve chosen or designed in the past have been beautiful, it’s time we move on from playing with your fashion to using it as a means of backing up your words.”