I KNEW WE HAD AN arsenal of staff working at the palace, but I was convinced the majority of them had been in hiding until today. As the announcement of this unexpected Selection spread, it wasn’t simply the maids and butlers running around in preparation, but people I’d never even seen before.
My daily workload of reading reports and sitting in on meetings shifted as I became the focal point of the Selection preparations.
“This is slightly less expensive, Your Highness, but it is still incredibly comfortable and would work well with the existing decor.” A man held out a very large swatch of fabric, which he draped over the previous two options.
I touched it, enchanted by the texture of cloth as I usually was, though this was clearly not intended to be worn.
“I’m not sure I understand why we’re doing this,” I confessed.
The man, one of the palace decorators, pressed his lips together. “It has been suggested that some of the guest rooms are a bit feminine and that your suitors might be more comfortable in something like this,” he said, pulling out yet another option. “We can make a room look entirely different with a simple bedspread,” he assured me.
“Fine,” I said, thinking it was a little unnecessary to get this worked up over some sheets. “But do I need to make this decision?”
He smiled kindly. “Your fingerprints will be all over this Selection, miss. Even if you don’t choose, people will assume you did. We might as well get your authority on all things.”
I stared at the fabric, more than a little exhausted thinking about how all these silly details would point back to me. “This one.” I chose the least- expensive option. It was a deep green and would be perfectly acceptable for a three-month stay.
“Very wise, Your Highness,” the decorator complimented. “Now, should we consider adding new art as well?” He clapped his hands, and a stream of maids walked in carrying paintings. I sighed, knowing my afternoon was lost.
The following morning I was summoned to the dining hall. Mom came with me, but Dad couldn’t be pulled away from his work.
A man I assumed was our head chef bowed to us, not able to go very low because of his wide stomach. His face was closer to red than white, but he didn’t sweat, which made me think that all the years in the kitchen had simply
steamed him.
“Thank you for joining us, Your Majesty, Your Highness. The kitchen staff has been working day and night to find appropriate options for the first dinner once your suitors arrive. We want to serve seven courses, obviously.”
“Of course!” Mom replied.
The chef smiled at her. “Naturally, we would like your approval for the final menu.”
I groaned internally. A true seven-course meal could take six hours from the first sip of a cocktail to the final bite of chocolate. How long would it take to sample several different options for each course?
About eight hours, it turned out, and I had a dreadful stomachache for the rest of the day, which made me less than enthusiastic when someone came asking about music selections for the evening of the first dinner.
The hallways were like crowded streets, and every corner of the palace was noisy with speedy preparations. I endured it as best I could until Dad stopped me in passing one day.
“We were thinking about making a special room for the Selected. What do you think about—”
“Enough!” I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t care. I have no idea what a boy would like in a recreational space, so I suggest you ask someone with some testosterone. And as for me, I’ll be in the garden.”
Dad could tell I was near a breaking point, and he let me pass without a fight. I was thankful for the momentary respite.
I lay on my stomach in my bikini on a blanket in the open stretch of grass that spread out just before the forest. I wished, as I had so many times before, that we had a pool. I was pretty good at getting my way, but Dad never budged on the pool issue. When the palace was mine, that was the first thing on the agenda.
I sketched dresses in my book, trying to relax. As the sun warmed me, the quick scratch of my pencil blended with the sound of rustling leaves, making a lovely, tranquil song. I mourned the loss of peace in my life. Three months, I recited. Three months, and then everything goes back to normal.
A piercing laugh polluted the stillness of the garden. “Josie,” I muttered to myself. Shading my eyes, I turned and saw her walking toward me. She was with one of her friends, an upper-class girl she’d chosen to associate with specifically because the company in the palace wasn’t enough for her.
I closed my book, hiding my designs, and turned onto my back simply to take in the sun.
“It will be a good experience for everyone,” I heard Josie remark to her friend. “I don’t get to interact with boys very often, so it’ll be nice to have an
opportunity to talk to some. One day, when my wedding is arranged, I’d like to be able to carry on a conversation.”
I rolled my eyes. If I thought I’d have the slightest attachment to these boys, it would have bothered me that she thought they were here for her. Then again, Josie thought everything existed for her. And the idea that she was so important that her marriage would need to be arranged on her behalf was comical. She could marry anyone off the street and no one would care one way or the other.
“I hope I’ll be able to visit during the Selection,” her friend replied. “It’ll be so fun!”
“Of course, Shannon! I’ll make sure all my friends get to come often. It’ll be valuable for you as well.”
How kind of her to offer up my home and events as learning opportunities for her little buddies. I took a deep breath. I needed to focus on relaxing.
“Eadlyn!” Josie cried, spotting me.
I groaned, then raised a hand to acknowledge her, hoping the silence would convey my wish for privacy.
“How excited are you for the Selection?” she yelled, continuing over.
I wasn’t going to holler like a farmhand, so I said nothing. Eventually, Josie and her friend were standing above me, blocking the sun.
“Didn’t you hear me, Eadlyn? Aren’t you excited for the Selection?” Josie never addressed me properly.
“Of course.”
“Me, too! I think it’ll be exciting to have all the company.”
“You won’t have any company,” I reminded her. “These boys are my
guests.”
She tipped her head like I was stating the obvious. “I know! But it’ll still be nice to have more people around.”
“Josie, how old are you?” “Fifteen,” she answered proudly.
“I thought so. If you really want to, I’m sure you could get out and meet people of your own accord now. You’re certainly old enough.”
She smiled. “I don’t think so. That’s not exactly appropriate.”
I didn’t want to get into this argument again. I was the one who couldn’t pick up and leave the palace without warning. Security sweeps, proper announcements, and protocol reviews were all necessary before I could even consider it.
Also, I constantly had to be aware of the company I kept. I couldn’t be seen with just anyone. An unflattering picture wasn’t simply taken; it was documented, stored, and resurrected whenever the newspapers needed to
criticize me. I had to be relentlessly on my toes to avoid anything that could possibly tarnish my image, my family’s image, or the country at large.
Josie was a commoner. She didn’t have any such restrictions. Not that it stopped her from acting like she did.
“Well, at least you have some company for today, then. If you two don’t mind, I’m trying to rest.”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” Her friend bowed her head. Okay, she wasn’t too bad.
“I’ll see you at dinner!” Josie was a little too enthusiastic about it.
I tried to lull myself back into relaxation, but Josie’s piercing voice kept finding its way over to me, and I eventually scooped up my blanket and sketches, and headed inside. If I couldn’t enjoy myself here, I might as well figure out something else to do.
After being so exposed to the bright Angeles sun, the palace halls looked like twilight as I waited for my eyes to adjust. I blinked hard, trying to make out the face of the person coming toward me. It was Osten, carrying two notebooks as he rushed down the hall.
He shoved the books into my arms. “Hide these in your room, okay? And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
As quickly as he appeared, he vanished. I sighed, knowing that even attempting to comprehend would be pointless. I sometimes couldn’t stand the pressure placed on me from being born first, but thank goodness it was me and not Osten. Every time I tried to imagine him at the helm, it gave me a headache.
I flipped through the notebooks, curious as to what he was plotting. Turned out they weren’t his at all. They were Josie’s. I recognized her babyish handwriting, and, if that hadn’t given it away, the sheets of her and Ahren’s names in hearts made it all too obvious. It wasn’t just Ahren’s name though. A few pages later she was in love with all four members of Choosing Yesterday, a popular band, and just after that it was some actor. Anyone with any sort of clout would do, it seemed.
I decided to set the books on the floor by the doors to the garden. Whatever Osten had planned, there was no way it would be as distressing as her stumbling across them when she came inside, with no clue as to how they’d gotten there or who had seen them.
For someone who prided herself on being so close to the royal family, she really should have learned a lesson or two in discretion by now.
When I got to my room, Neena was at the ready, grabbing my blanket to place in the wash. I threw something on, not really in the mood to think about my outfit too much today. As I was about to fix my hair, I noticed some files
on the table.
“Lady Brice dropped those off for you,” Neena said.
I stared at the folders. Though it was my first piece of actual work in a week, I couldn’t be bothered. “I’ll get to them later,” I promised, knowing that I probably wouldn’t. I’d maybe look at them tomorrow. Today was mine.
I pinned back my hair, double-checked my makeup, and went to look for Mom. I could use the company, and I felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t ask me to pick out furniture or food.
I found her alone in the Women’s Room. A plaque beside the door declared that the space was actually titled the Newsome Library, but I’d never heard anyone call it by that name except for Mom on occasion. It was the space where the women congregated, so the original label seemed more practical, I supposed.
I could tell Mom was in there before I even opened the door because I heard her playing the piano, and her sound was unmistakable. She loved to tell the story of how Dad made her pick out four brand-new pianos, each with various attributes, after they were married. They were placed all over the palace. One was in her suite, a second in Dad’s, one here, and another in a largely unused parlor on the fourth floor.
I was still jealous of how easy she made it look. I remembered her warning me that one day time would take the dexterity out of her hands, and she’d only be able to plunk away at one or two keys at a time. So far time had failed.
I tried to be quiet, but she heard me all the same.
“Hello, darling,” she called, pulling her fingers away from the keys. “Come sit with me.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I walked across the room, settling next to her on the bench.
“You didn’t. I was clearing my head, and I feel much better now.” “Is something wrong?”
She smiled distractedly and rubbed her hand over my back. “No. Just the everyday wear and tear of the job.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, running my fingers along the keys, not actually making any sound.
“I keep thinking that I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve seen it all, where I’ve mastered everything about being queen. No sooner do I think it than everything changes. There are . . . Well, you have enough to worry about today. Let’s not bother with it.”
With some work she pasted a smile back onto her face, and while I wanted to know what was troubling her—because, in the end, all those
troubles also fell on me—she was right. I simply couldn’t deal with it today.
It seemed she hardly could either.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes despite her efforts. “Entering the Selection and ending up queen?”
I was grateful she didn’t just immediately say yes or no but actually considered the question.
“I don’t regret marrying your father. I sometimes wonder about the life I would have had without the Selection, or if I had still come to the palace but lost. I think I would have been fine. Not unhappy exactly, but not aware of what else there could have been for me. But the path to him was a difficult one, mostly because I didn’t want to walk it.”
“At all?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t my idea to enter the Selection.” My mouth fell open. She’d never told me that. “Whose was it?”
“That’s not important,” she answered quickly. “But I can tell you that I understand your reservations. I think the process will teach you a lot about yourself. I hope you’ll trust me on this.”
“It’d be a lot easier to trust you if I knew you were doing this for me and not to buy yourself some peace.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.
She took a deep breath. “I know you think this is selfish, but you’ll see. One day the welfare of the country will be on your shoulders, and you’ll be surprised at what you’d try in order to keep it all from crumbling. I never thought we’d have another Selection, but plans change when that much is demanded of you.”
“Plenty is demanded of me now,” I shot back.
“One, watch your tone,” she warned. “And two, you only see a fraction of the work. You have no idea how much pressure is placed on your father.”
I sat there, silent. I wanted to leave. If she didn’t like my tone, then why did she push me?
“Eadlyn,” she began quietly. “The timing of this happened to fall when it did. But, honestly, sooner or later I would have done something.”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem shut off in a way, disconnected from your people. I know you’re constantly worried about the demands you will face as queen, but it’s time you see the needs of others.”
“You don’t think I do that now?” Did she see what I did all day?
She pressed her lips together. “No, honey. Not if it comes before your comfort.”
I wanted to scream at her, and at Dad, too. Sure, I took shelter in long
baths or a drink with dinner. I didn’t think that was too much to ask for considering what I sacrificed.
“I didn’t realize you thought I was so flawed.” I stood, turning away. “Eadlyn, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“It is. That’s fine.” I made my way to the door. The accusation filled me with so much rage I could barely stand it.
“Eadlyn, darling, we want you to be the best queen you can be, that’s all,” she pleaded.
“I will,” I answered, one foot in the hallway. “And I certainly don’t need a boy to show me how to do that.”
I tried to calm myself before walking away. It felt like the universe was plotting against me, its arms taking turns swatting me down. I repeated in my head that it was only three months, only three months . . . until I heard someone crying.
“Are you sure?” It sounded like General Leger.
“I talked with her this morning. She decided to keep it.” Miss Lucy pulled in a jagged breath.
“Did you tell her that we could give that baby everything? That we had more money than we could ever spend? That we’d love it, no matter its faults?” General Leger’s words fell out in a whispered rush.
“All that and more,” Miss Lucy insisted. “I knew there was a huge chance of the baby being born with mental issues. I told her we’d be able to tend to any need he had, that the queen herself would see to it. She said she talked with her family, and they agreed to help her, and that she never really wanted to let the baby go in the first place. She only looked into adoption because she thought she’d be alone. She apologized, like that could fix it.”
Miss Lucy sniffed as if she was trying to quiet her sobs. I drew close to the corner of the passage, listening
“I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” She said those words kindly, bravely. “I think we need to accept that it’s over. Years of treatments, so many miscarriages, three failed adoptions . . . we just need to let it go.”
There was a long silence before General Leger answered. “If that’s what you think is best.”
“I do,” she said, her voice sounding assertive, before she sank into tears again. “I still can’t believe I’ll never be a mother.”
A second later her cries were muffled, and I knew her husband had pulled her to his chest, trying to comfort her as best he could.
All these years I had thought the Legers had chosen to be a childless couple. Miss Lucy’s struggles had never made it into conversation when I was
in the room, and she seemed content enough to play with us as children and send us on our way. I’d never considered that it might have been an unfortunate circumstance thrust on them.
Was my mother right? Was I not as observant or caring as I thought? Miss Lucy was one of my favorite people in the world. Shouldn’t I have been able to see how sad she was?
