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.”