The Selection Stories Collection (13 page)

“Then you have been quite lucky.” He sounded jealous.

Imagine that. The one thing I could hold over the head of the Prince of Illéa, the very thing I was here to forget.

“My mother and father were married this way and are quite happy. I hope to find happiness, too. To find a woman that all of Illéa can love, someone to be my companion and to help entertain the leaders of other nations. Someone who will befriend my friends and be my confidante. I’m ready to find my wife.”

Something in his voice struck me. There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm. This thing that seemed like little more than a game show to me was his only chance for happiness. He couldn’t try with a second round of girls. Well, maybe he could, but how embarrassing. He was so desperate, so hopeful. I felt my distaste for him lessen. Marginally.

“Do you really feel like this is a cage?” His eyes were full of compassion.

“Yes, I do.” My voice came out quiet. I quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

“I’ve felt that way more than once myself. But you must admit, it is a very beautiful cage.”

“For you. Fill your beautiful cage with thirty-four other men all fighting over the same thing. See how nice it is then.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Have there really been arguments over me? Don’t you all realize I’m the one doing the choosing?”

“Actually, that was unfair. They’re fighting over two things. Some fight for you, others fight for the crown. And they all think they’ve already figured out what to say and do so your choice will be obvious.”

“Ah, yes. The man or the crown. I’m afraid some cannot tell the difference.” He shook his head.

“Good luck there,” I said dryly.

It was quiet for a moment in the wake of my sarcasm. I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to speak. He gazed at an unfixed point in the grass, concern marking his face. It seemed this thought had been plaguing him. He took a breath and turned back to me.

“Which do you fight for?”

“Actually, I’m here by mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Yes. Sort of. Well, it’s a long story. And now. . . I’m here. And I’m not fighting. My plan is to enjoy the food until you kick me out.”

He laughed out loud at that, actually doubling over and slapping his knee. It was a bizarre mix of rigidity and calm.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“A Two? Three?”

Wasn’t he paying attention at all? “Five.”

“Ah, yes, then food would probably be good motivation to stay.” He laughed again. “I’m sorry, I can’t read your pin in the dark.”

“I’m America.”

“Well, that’s perfect.” Maxon looked off into the night and smiled at nothing in particular. Something in all this was amusing to him. “America, my dear, I do hope you find something in this cage worth fighting for. After all this, I can only imagine what it would be like to see you actually try.”

He came down from the bench to crouch beside me. He was too close. I couldn’t think right. Maybe I was a little star-struck or still feeling shaky from my crying episode. Either way I was too shocked to protest when he took my hand.

“If it would make you happy, I could let the staff know you prefer the garden. Then you can come out here at night without being manhandled by the guard. I would prefer if you had one nearby, though.”

I wanted that. Freedom of any kind sounded heavenly, but he needed to be absolutely sure of my feelings.

“I don’t. . . I don’t think I want anything from you.” I pulled my fingers from his loose grip.

He was a little taken aback, hurt. “As you wish.” I felt more regret. Just because I didn’t like the guy didn’t mean I wanted to hurt him. “Will you be heading inside soon?”

“Yes,” I breathed, looking at the ground.

“Then I’ll leave you with your thoughts. There will be a guard near the door waiting for you.”

“Thank you, um, Your Majesty.” I shook my head. How many times had I addressed him wrongly in this conversation?

“Dear America, will you do me a favor?” He took my hand again. He was persistent.

I squinted at him, not sure of what to say. “Maybe.”

His smile returned. “Don’t mention this to the others. Technically, I’m not supposed to meet you until tomorrow, and I don’t want anyone getting upset. Though I wouldn’t call you yelling at me anything close to a romantic tryst, would you?”

It was my turn to smile. “Not at all!” I took a deep breath. “I won’t tell.”

“Thank you.” He took the hand he was holding and lowered his lips to it. When he pulled away, he gently placed my hand in my lap. “Good night.”

I looked at the warm spot on my hand, stunned for a moment. Then I turned to watch Maxon as he walked away, giving me the privacy I’d wanted all day.

I
N THE MORNING I WOKE not to the sound of the maids coming in—though they had—or my bath being drawn—though it was. I woke to the light coming through my window as Anne gently pulled back the rich, heavy curtains. She hummed a quiet song to herself, absolutely happy with her task.

I wasn’t ready to move. It had taken me a long time to come down from getting so worked up, and even more time to relax after I’d realized exactly what that conversation in the garden would mean for me. If I got a chance, I would apologize to Maxon. It would be a miracle if he let me get that far.

“Miss? Are you awake?”

“Noooo,” I moaned into the pillow. I hadn’t had nearly enough sleep, and the bed was far too comfortable. But Anne, Mary, and Lucy laughed at my groan, which was enough to make me smile and decide to start moving.

These girls would probably be the easiest for me to get along with in the palace. I wondered if they could become confidantes of some kind, or if training and protocol would render them completely unable to even share a cup of tea with me. Though I was a born Five, I was covered with Three-ness now. And if they were maids, that made them all Sixes. But that was fine with me. I did enjoy the company of Sixes.

I moved slowly into the monstrous bathroom, every step echoing against the vastness of tile and glass. In the long mirrors I saw Lucy eyeing the dirt stains on my nightgown. Then Anne’s careful eyes caught them. Then Mary’s. Thankfully, none of them asked any questions. Yesterday I thought they had been prying with all their inquiries, but I was wrong. They were obviously overly concerned with my comfort. Questions about what I was doing outside my room—let alone the palace—would only be awkward.

All they did was remove the gown with care and usher me toward the bath.

I wasn’t used to being naked around other people—not even Mom or May—but there seemed to be no way around it. These three would be dressing me for as long as I was here, so I would have to bear it until I left. I wondered what would happen to them when I was gone. Would they get assigned to other girls who would need more attention as the competition drew on? Did they already have other jobs in the palace they were temporarily excused from? It seemed rude to ask what they used to do or imply that I was leaving soon, so I didn’t.

After my bath, Anne dried my hair, pulling half up with ribbons I’d brought from home. They were blue and just so happened to accent the flowers in one of the day dresses my maids had created for me, so that was what I wore. Mary did my makeup, which was just as light as the day before, and Lucy rubbed lotion into my arms and legs.

There was an array of jewelry to choose from, but I asked for my box instead. There was a tiny necklace with a songbird on it that my dad had given me, and it was silver so it matched my name pin. I did take a pair of earrings from the royal store, but they were probably the smallest ones in the collection.

Anne, Mary, and Lucy looked me over and smiled at the results. I took that as a sign I was decent enough to leave for breakfast. With bows and smiles, they wished me well as I went to leave. Lucy’s hands were trembling again.

I went into the upstairs foyer where we had all met yesterday. I was the first one there, so I took to a small sofa to wait for the rest. Slowly, others started to trickle in. I quickly noticed a theme. Every one of the girls looked phenomenal. They had their hair pulled up in intricate braids or curls, away from their faces. The makeup was meticulously done, dresses pressed to perfection.

I had probably chosen my plainest dress for the first day, and everyone else’s had something sparkly on it. I saw two girls walk into the foyer and realize they were wearing almost the exact same dress. They both turned back around to change. Everyone wanted to stand out, and they all did in their own ways. Even me.

Everyone here looked like a One. I looked like a Five in a nice dress.

I thought it had taken me a long time to get ready, but it took the other girls much, much longer. Even when Silvia came to escort us downstairs, we still had to wait for Celeste and Tiny, who, true to her name, had to have her dress taken in.

Once we were all assembled, everyone started to move toward the stairs. There was a gilded mirror on the wall, and we all turned to take one last peek as we descended. I caught a glimpse of myself next to Marlee and Tiny. I looked positively plain.

But at least I looked like me, and that was a minor consolation.

We went downstairs expecting to be taken into the dining room, where we had been told we would be eating. But instead we were taken into the Great Room, where individual tables and chairs had been set up in rows, all with plates, glasses, and silverware. There wasn’t any food, though. Not even a hopeful smell. In the front corner, tucked away in a small nook, I noticed a small set of couches. A few cameramen, stationed around the room, filmed our arrival.

We filed in, sitting wherever we wanted as there were no place cards here. Marlee was in the row in front of me, and Ashley sat to my right. I didn’t bother to take in anyone else. It seemed like several people had made at least one ally, just as I had in Marlee. Ashley had chosen her seat beside me, so I assumed she wanted my company. Still, she didn’t speak. Maybe she was upset over the news reports last night. Then again, she was quiet when we met. Maybe it was just her nature. I figured the worst she could do was not answer back, so I decided to at least acknowledge her.

“Ashley, you look lovely.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said quietly. We both checked to make sure the camera crews were far away. Not that this was private, but who wanted them around for everything? “Isn’t it fun to wear all this jewelry? Where’s yours?”

“Umm, it was too heavy for me. I decided to go light instead.”

“It is heavy! I feel like I have twenty pounds on my head. Still, I couldn’t pass it up. Who knows how long any of us will stay?”

That was funny. Ashley had seemed quietly confident from the very beginning. With the way she looked and carried herself, she was prime princess material. It seemed strange that she would doubt herself.

“But don’t you think you’ll win?” I asked.

“Of course,” she whispered. “But it’s rude to say so!” She winked at me, which made me giggle.

Yet another mistake on my part. That giggle caught the attention of Silvia, who was walking in the door.

“Tsk-tsk. A lady never raises her voice above a gentle whisper.”

Every murmur hushed. I wondered if the cameras had caught my mistake, and my cheeks filled with warmth.

“Hello again, ladies. I hope you all had a restful first night in the palace, because now our work begins. Today I will begin to instruct you on conduct and protocol, a process that will continue for the duration of your stay. Please know that I will be reporting any missteps on your part to the royal family.

“I know it sounds harsh, but this isn’t a game to be taken lightly. Someone in this room will be the next princess of Illéa. It is no small task. You must endeavor to elevate yourselves, no matter your previous station. You will become ladies from the ground up. And this very morning, you will receive your first lesson.

“Table manners are very important, and before you can eat in front of the royal family, you must be aware of certain etiquette. The faster we get through this little lesson, the sooner you get to have your breakfasts, so faces forward, please.”

She began explaining how we would be served from the right, which glass was for what beverage, and to never, ever reach for a pastry with our hands. Always use the tongs. Hands were to rest in our lap when not in use, napkin draped underneath. We weren’t to speak unless spoken to. Of course, we could talk quietly to our neighbors, but always at a level befitting the palace. She eyed me seriously as she gave that last note.

Silvia went on and on in her elegant tone, taunting my stomach. Even if they were small, I was used to getting my three meals at home. I needed food. I was getting a bit grumpy when we heard a knock at the door. Two guards stepped away, and in came Prince Maxon.

“Good morning, ladies,” he called.

The lift in the room was tangible. Backs straightened, locks of hair were tossed over shoulders, and hems were rearranged. I looked not at Maxon, but Ashley, whose chest was moving fast. She stared in such a way that I felt embarrassed for noticing.

“Your Majesty,” Silvia said with a low curtsy.