The Selection Stories Collection (45 page)

I
T WAS
M
ONDAY NIGHT
. O
R
Tuesday morning. It was so late, it was hard to tell.

Kriss and I had worked all day finding appropriate swaths of fabric, having butlers hang them, choosing our clothes and jewelry, picking china, creating a rough draft of the menu, and listening to a language coach speak lines in Italian to us in the hope that some of it would stick. At least I had the advantage of knowing Spanish, which helped me pick it up faster; they were so similar. Kriss was just doing all she could to keep up.

I ought to have been exhausted, but all I could think about were Maxon’s words.

What had happened with Kriss? Why was she all of the sudden so close to him? Should I even care this much?

But this was Maxon.

And try as I might to pull away, I still cared about him. I wasn’t ready to give up completely.

There had to be a way to figure this out. As I debated everything that was happening, attempting to separate my issues from one another, it looked like all the pieces fell into one of four categories.

My feelings about Maxon. Maxon’s feelings about me. Whatever was going on between Aspen and me. And my feelings about actually becoming a princess.

Of all the things swimming in my head right now, it actually felt like the princess thing might be the easiest to tackle. At least in that area, I had something the other girls didn’t. I had Gregory.

I went over to my piano stool, drew out his diary, and hoped with all my heart that he would have some wisdom for me. He hadn’t been born into royalty; he must have had to adjust. Based on what he’d said in his Halloween entry, he was already preparing for a big change in his future.

I pulled up the covers, protecting the words from the world, and dove in.

I tried to glean some actual wisdom from his words. He said to use your position. He said to play by the rules. He said not to be afraid.

Maybe that should have been enough, but it wasn’t. It didn’t even feel close to helpful. Since Gregory failed me, there was only one other man I could count on. I went over to my desk, pulled out a pen and paper, and scribbled a brief letter to my father.

T
HE NEXT DAY FLEW BY
, and suddenly Kriss and I were arriving at the other girls’ reception in conservative gray dresses.

“What’s the plan?” Kriss asked as we walked down the hall.

I considered for a moment. I disliked Celeste and wouldn’t mind seeing her fail, but I wasn’t sure I wanted her to do it on this grand a scale. “Be polite, but not helpful. Watch Silvia and the queen for cues. Absorb everything we can … and work all night to make ours better.”

“All right.” She sighed. “Let’s go.”

We were on time, as was crucial to the culture, and the girls were already a mess. It was like Celeste was sabotaging herself. Where Elise and Natalie were in respectable deep blues, Celeste’s dress was practically white. Put a veil on her, and this was a wedding. Not to mention how revealing it was, especially when she stood next to any of the German women. Most of them were wearing sleeves to their wrists despite the warm weather.

Natalie had been put in charge of the flowers and missed the detail that lilies were traditionally used at funerals. All the flower arrangements had to be removed hastily.

Elise, though clearly more agitated than she usually was, appeared to be the image of calm. To our guests, she would look like the star.

It was intimidating, trying so hard to communicate with the women from the German Federation—who spoke very broken English—particularly when I had so much Italian in my brain. I tried to be hospitable; and despite their severe appearance, the ladies were actually quite friendly.

It became clear pretty quickly that the true threat of disaster was Silvia and her clipboard. While the queen graciously aided the girls in hosting the German guests, Silvia walked the perimeter of the room, her sharp eyes missing nothing. It seemed she had pages of notes before the event had ended. Kriss and I quickly realized that our only hope was to have Silvia fall in love with our reception.

The next morning, Kriss came to my room with her maids, and we got ready together. We wanted to make an effort to look similar enough so it was clear we were in charge but not so much alike we looked silly. It was kind of fun having so many girls in my room. The maids all knew one another, and they talked animatedly behind us as they worked. It reminded me of how things had felt when May was here.

Hours before our guests were supposed to arrive, Kriss and I made our way to the parlor to double-check everything one last time. Unlike the other reception, we were forgoing place cards and letting our guests sit wherever they liked. The band came to practice in the space, and as a lucky bonus, it seemed our choice of fabrics to cover the bland walls made for great acoustics.

I straightened Kriss’s necklace as we quizzed each other on the conversational phrases one last time. She sounded very natural speaking Italian.

“Thank you,” she said.

“
Grazie
,” I answered.

“No, no,” she replied, facing me. “I mean thank you. You did an amazing job on this, and … I don’t know. I thought that after Marlee, you might give up. I was afraid that I’d be doing this alone, but you’ve worked so hard. You’ve done great.”

“Thanks. You have, too. I don’t know if I would have survived if I had to work with Celeste. You made it almost easy.” Kriss smiled. I meant it, too. She was tireless. “And you’re right; it’s been hard without Marlee, but I wouldn’t quit. This is going to be great.”

Kriss bit her lip and considered for a moment. Quickly, as if she might lose her nerve, she spoke. “So you’re still competing then? You still want Maxon?”

It wasn’t like I didn’t know what we were all doing here, but none of the other girls had spoken about it like that. I was caught off guard for a moment, wondering if I should answer her. And, if I did, what would I say?

“Girls!” Silvia trilled, rushing in through the doorway. I’d never been so grateful to see that woman. “It’s nearly time. Are you ready?”

Behind her, the queen came in, a soothing calm to balance Silvia’s energy. She studied the room, admiring our work. It was a huge relief to see her smile.

“Almost ready,” Kriss said. “We just have a few details to take care of. One we specifically need you and the queen for.”

“Oh?” Silvia said curiously.

The queen approached us then, her dark eyes warm with pride. “It’s beautiful. And you both look stunning.”

“Thank you,” we chorused. The pale-blue dresses with large gold accents had been my idea. Festive and lovely, but not too over the top.

“Well, you might notice our necklaces,” Kriss said. “We thought that if they were similar, it would help people identify us as hosts.”

“Excellent idea,” Silvia said, scribbling on her clipboard.

Kriss and I smiled at each other. “Since you are both hosts here, too, we thought you should have ones as well,” I said as Kriss pulled the boxes off the table.

“You didn’t!” The queen gasped.

“For … for me?” Silvia asked.

“Of course,” Kriss said sweetly, handing over the jewelry.

“You’ve both been so helpful. This is your project, too,” I added.

I could see how touched the queen was by our gesture, but Silvia was completely speechless. I suddenly wondered if anyone at the palace ever gave her any kind of attention. Yes, we’d thought up the idea yesterday as a way to get Silvia on our side, but I was glad we’d done it for more than just that now.

Silvia might be overwhelming, but she did try to do all this instruction for our benefit. I vowed to do a better job of thanking her.

A butler told us our guests were arriving, and Kriss and I stood on either side of the double doors to welcome people as they came. The band started playing softly in the background, maids began circulating with hors d’oeuvres, and we were ready.

Elise, Celeste, and Natalie were walking toward us, surprisingly on time. Once they caught sight of our setup—the billowing fabric covering the drab walls, the sparkling centerpieces towering on our tables, the overflowing flowers—there was a clear ache in the eyes of Elise and Celeste. Natalie, however, was too excited to be bothered.

“It smells like the gardens,” she said with a sigh, practically dancing into the room.

“A bit too much like it,” Celeste added. “You’re going to give people a headache.” Leave it to her to find fault with something beautiful.

“Try to sit at different tables,” Kriss suggested as they poured past. “The Italians are here to make friends.”

Celeste sucked her teeth, acting as if this was putting her out. I wanted to tell her to pull it together: We had been on our best behavior for her reception. But then I heard the warm buzzing conversation of the Italian women as they came down the hall and forgot all about her.

The best way to describe the Italian ladies was statuesque. They were tall, golden skinned, and absolutely beautiful. As if that wasn’t enough, they were all so good-natured. It was like they carried the sun inside their souls and let it shine out on everything around them.

The Italian monarchy was even younger than Illéa’s. They had been closed off to our attempts at friendship for decades, according to the packet I’d read, and this was the only time they’d ever reached out to us. This meeting was the first step toward a closer relationship with a growing government. It had been frightening to think about until the moment they walked through the doorway, and their kindness melted my worries. They kissed Kriss and me on both cheeks and yelled
“Salve!”
I happily tried to match their level of enthusiasm.

I botched some of my Italian phrases, but our visitors were gracious, laughing off my mistakes and helping to correct me. Their English was impressive, and we doted on one another’s hairstyles and dresses. It seemed we’d made a good first impression appearance-wise, and that helped me relax.

I ended up settling in for most of the party next to Orabella and Noemi, two of the princess’s cousins.

“This is delicious!” Orabella cried, raising her glass of wine.

“We’re glad you like it,” I replied, worrying that I was coming across as too shy. They were so loud when they talked.

“You must have some!” she insisted. I hadn’t had anything to drink since Halloween, and I wasn’t very fond of alcohol in the first place. I didn’t want to be rude, though, so I took the glass she handed me and sipped.

It was incredible. Champagne was all bubbles; but the deep, red wine had several flavors overlapping, each coming to the forefront in its own time.

“Mmmm.” I sighed.

“Now, now,” Noemi said, drawing my attention to her. “This Maxon, he is handsome. How can I get into the Selection?”

“A heap of paperwork,” I joked.

“That’s all? Where’s my pen?”

Orabella cut in. “I will take some of this paper, too. I would love to take Maxon home with me.”

I laughed. “Trust me, it’s a bit of a mess in here.”

“You need more wine,” Noemi insisted.

“Absolutely!” Orabella seconded, and they called over a butler to refill my glass.

“Have you ever been to Italy?” Noemi asked.

I shook my head. “Before the Selection, I’d never even left my province.”

“You must come!” Orabella insisted. “You can stay with me anytime.”

“You always hog the company,” Noemi complained. “She stays with me.”

I felt the wine warming me all over, and their excitement was making me almost too happy.

“So, is he a good kisser?” Noemi asked.

I choked a little on the sip I was taking, pulling the glass away to laugh. I was trying not to give too much away, but they knew.

“How good?” Orabella demanded. When I didn’t answer, she waved her hand. “Have some more wine!” she exclaimed.

I pointed an accusing finger at them, realizing what they were doing. “You two are nothing but trouble!”

They threw back their heads laughing, and I couldn’t help but join them. Admittedly, girl talk was much more tempting when we weren’t all competing for the same boy, but I couldn’t get too drawn into this.

I stood to leave before I ended up passed out under the table. “He’s very romantic. When he wants to be,” I said. They clapped and laughed as I walked away, smiling at how playful they were.

After I got some water and food in me, I played some of the folk songs I’d learned on my violin, and most of the room sang along. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Silvia taking notes and tapping her foot to the beat at the same time.

When Kriss got up and proposed a toast to the queen and Silvia for their help, the room applauded them. When I raised my glass to our guests, they shrieked with delight, downing their glasses and then throwing them against the walls. Kriss and I weren’t expecting that and shrugged before tossing ours as well.

The poor maids scuttled around to clean the shattered pieces as the band started up again and the whole room began to dance. Perhaps the highlight was Natalie on top of the table, doing some kind of dance that made her look like an octopus.

Queen Amberly sat in a corner, speaking jovially with the Italian queen. I felt a rush of accomplishment at the sight and was so engrossed, I nearly jumped when Elise addressed me.

“Yours is better,” she said reluctantly but genuinely. “You two really pulled together an incredible reception.”

“Thanks. I was worried for a while—we got off to such a bad start.”

“I know. That makes it even more impressive. It looks like you two have been working for weeks.” She looked around the room, staring longingly at the bright decor.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, Elise, anyone could see yesterday that you worked the hardest on your team. I’m sure Silvia will make sure Maxon knows that.”

“You think?”

“Of course. And I promise, if this is some sort of a competition and you lose, I’ll tell Maxon myself what a good job you did.”

She squinted her already thin eyes. “You would do that?”

“Sure. Why not?” I said with a smile.

Elise shook her head. “I really admire you for how you are. Honest, I guess. But you need to realize we’re competing, America.” My smile disappeared. “I wouldn’t lie and say anything bad about you, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to tell Maxon you did something good. I can’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I said quietly.

She shook her head. “Yes, it does. This isn’t just some prize. This is a husband, a crown, a future. And you probably have the most to gain or lose by it.”

I stood there, completely stunned. I thought we were friends. Except for Celeste, I really trusted these girls. Was I too blind to see how hard they were fighting?

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” she went on. “I like you a lot. But I can’t cheer for you to win.”

I nodded, still taking in her words. It was obvious I wasn’t as mentally in this as she was. One more thing that made me doubt my ability to do this job.

Elise smiled over my shoulder, and I turned to see the Italian princess coming toward us.

“Pardon me. Can I have the hostess, please?” she asked in her lovely accent.

Elise gave her a curtsy before heading back to the dancing. I tried to shake off that conversation and focus on the person I was meant to impress.

“Princess Nicoletta, I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to speak much today,” I said, giving her a curtsy myself.

“Oh, no! You’ve been very busy. My cousins, they love you!”

I laughed. “They’re very funny.”

Nicoletta pulled me into a corner of the room. “We’ve been hesitant to make bonds with Illéa. Our people are much … freer than yours.”

“I can see that.”

“No, no,” she said seriously. “I mean, in
personal
freedoms. They enjoy more than you. You have the castes still, yes?”

Suddenly understanding that this was more than a friendly conversation, I nodded.

“We watch, of course. We see what happens here. The riots, the rebels. It seems people are not happy?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Your Majesty, I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to about this. I don’t really control anything.”

Nicoletta took my hands. “But you could.”

A shiver ran through me. Was she saying what I thought?