The Selection Part 9

They looked disappointed. I tried to recover.

"You're all very helpful. I'm just used to spending time alone. And I've been swarmed with people today."

"But Lady Singer, we're supposed to help you. It's our job," the head girl said. I'd figured out that she was Anne. Anne seemed to be on top of things, Mary was easygoing, and Lucy I guessed was just shy.

"I really do appreciate you all, and I'll definitely want your help getting started tomorrow. But tonight, I just need to unwind. If you want to be helpful, some time to myself would be good for me. And if you're all rested, I'm sure it will make things better in the morning, right?"

They looked at one another. "Well, I suppose so," Anne acquiesced.

"One of us is supposed to stay here while you sleep. In case you need something." Lucy looked nervous, like she was afraid of whatever decision I would make. She seemed to have little tremors now and then, which I guessed was her shyness coming to the surface.

"If I need anything, I'll ring the bell. It'll be fine. Besides, I won't be able to rest knowing someone's watching me."

They looked at one another again, still a little skeptical. I knew one way to stop this, but I hated using it.

"You're supposed to obey my every command, right?"

They nodded hopefully.

"Then I command you all to go to bed. And come help me in the morning. Please."

Anne smiled. I could tell she was starting to get me.

"Yes, Lady Singer. We'll see you in the morning." They curtsied and quietly left the room. Anne gave me one last look. I supposed I wasn't quite what she had been expecting. She didn't seem too upset about it, though.

Once they were gone, I stepped out of my fancy slippers and stretched my toes on the floor. It felt good, natural, to be barefoot. I went to unpack my things, which was quick. I kept my change of clothes tucked in the bag and stored it in my ma.s.sive closet. I surveyed the dresses as I did so. There were only a few. Enough to get me through a week or so. I a.s.sumed this was the same for everyone. Why make a dozen dresses for a girl who might leave the next day?

I took the few photos I had of my family and stuck them in the edge of my mirror. It stretched so high and wide, I could look at the pictures without having anything interrupt my view of myself. I had a small box of personal trinkets-earrings and ribbons and headbands I loved. They'd probably look incredibly plain here, but they were all so personal that I'd had to have them with me. The few books I'd brought found their way to the helpful shelf near the doors that opened to my balcony.

I peeked out the entry to the balcony and saw the garden. There was a maze of paths with fountains and benches. Flowers blossomed everywhere, and each hedge was perfectly trimmed. Past this obviously manicured piece of land was a short, open field and then a ma.s.sive forest. It stretched back so far that I couldn't tell if it was entirely closed in by palace walls. I wondered for a moment why it existed and then debated the last article from home that I held in my hand.

My tiny jar with its rattling penny. I rolled it in my hands a few times, listening to the penny skate around the edges of the gla.s.s. Why had I even brought this? To remind myself of something I couldn't have?

That tiny thought-that this love I had been building in a quiet, secret place for years was really beyond my reach now-made my eyes well up. On top of all the tension and excitement of the day, it was just too much. I didn't know where the jar's permanent place here would be, but for the moment I set it on the table by my bed.

I dimmed the lights, crawled up on top of the luxurious blankets, and stared at my jar. I let myself be sad. I let myself think of him.

How had I lost so much in such a short period of time? It would seem like leaving your family, living in some foreign place, and being separated from the person you love should be events that take years to roll into place, not just a day.

I wondered what exactly he had wanted to tell me before I left. The only thing I could deduce was that he didn't feel comfortable saying it out loud. Was it about her?

I stared at the jar.

Maybe he was trying to say he was sorry? I had given him a sound scolding last night. So perhaps that was it.

That he'd moved on? Well, I could see that pretty clearly myself, thank you very much.

That he hadn't moved on? That he still loved me?

I shut the thought down. I couldn't let that hope build in me. I needed to hate him right now. That anger would keep me going. Staying as far away from him as I could for as long as possible was half my reason for being here.

But the hope ached. And with the hope came homesickness, wishing May was sneaking into my bed like she sometimes did. And then fear that the other girls wanted me gone, that they might keep trying to make me feel small. And then nervousness at being presented to the nation on television for as long as I was here. And terror that people might try to kill me just to make a political statement. It all came at me too fast for my dizzy head to compute after such a long day.

My vision got blurry. I didn't even register that I'd started crying. I couldn't breathe. I was shaking. I jumped up and ran to the balcony. I was so panicked, it took me a moment to open the latch, but I did. I thought the fresh air would be enough, but it wasn't. My breaths were still shallow and cold.

There was no freedom in this. The bars of my balcony caged me in. And I could still see the walls around the palace, high with guards atop the points. I needed to be outside the palace, and no one was going to let that happen. Desperation made me feel even weaker. I looked at the forest. I'd bet I couldn't see anything but greenery from there.

I turned and bolted. I was a little unsteady with the tears in my eyes, but I managed to get out the door. I ran down the one hallway I knew, not seeing the art or the drapery or golden trim. I barely noticed the guards. I didn't know my way around the palace, but I knew if I got down the stairs and turned the right way, I'd see the ma.s.sive gla.s.s doors that led to the garden. I just needed the doors.

I ran down the grand stairwell, my bare feet making slapping sounds on the marble. There were a few more guards along the way, but no one stopped me. That is, until I actually found the place I was looking for.

Just like earlier, two men were stationed at either side of the doors, and when I tried to run for them, one of them stepped in my way, the spearlike staff in his hand barring me from the exit.

"Excuse me, miss, you need to go back to your room," he said with authority. Even though he wasn't speaking loudly, his voice seemed thunderous in the still of the elegant hallway.

"No ... no. I need ... outside." The words were tangled; I couldn't breathe right.

"Miss, you need to get back to your room now." The second guard was taking steps toward me.

"Please." I started gasping. I thought I might faint.

"I'm sorry... Lady America, is it?" He found my pin. "You need to go back to your room."

"I ... I can't breathe," I stammered, falling into the guard's arms as he moved close enough to push me away. His staff fell to the ground. I feebly clawed at him, feeling woozy with the effort.

"Let her go!" This was a new voice, young but full of authority. My head half turned, half fell in its direction. There was Prince Maxon. He looked a little odd, thanks to the angle my head was hanging at, but I recognized the hair and the stiff way he stood.

"She collapsed, Your Majesty. She wanted to go outside." The first guard looked nervous as he explained. He would be in terrible danger if he damaged me. I was the property of Illea now.

"Open the doors."

"But-Your Majesty-"

"Open the doors and let her go. Now!"

"Right away, Your Highness." The first guard went to work, pulling out a key. My head stayed in its strange position as I heard the sound of keys clanking against one another and then one sliding into the lock. The prince looked at me warily as I tried to stand. And then the sweet smell of fresh air pulsed through me, giving me all the motivation I needed. I pulled myself out of the guard's arms and ran like a drunk into the garden.

I was staggering quite a bit, but I didn't care if I looked less than graceful. I just needed to be outside. I let myself feel the warm air on my skin, the gra.s.s beneath my toes. Somehow even things in nature seemed to be bred into something extravagant here. I meant to go all the way into the trees, but my legs only carried me so far. I collapsed in front of a small stone bench and sat there, my fine green nightgown in the dirt, and my head resting in my arms on the seat.

My body didn't have the energy to sob, so the tears that came were quiet. Still, they took all my focus. How did I get here? How had I let this happen? What would become of me here? Would I ever get back any piece of the life I'd had before this? I just didn't know. And there wasn't a d.a.m.n thing I could do about any of it.

I was so consumed with my thoughts that I didn't realize I wasn't alone until Prince Maxon spoke.

"Are you all right, my dear?" he asked me.

"I am not your dear." I looked up to glare at him. There would be no mistaking the disgust in my tone or eyes.

"What have I done to offend you? Did I not just give you the very thing you asked for?" He was genuinely confused by my response. I suppose he expected us to adore him and thank our lucky stars for his existence.

I stared him down without fear, though the effect was probably weakened by my tearstained cheeks.

"Excuse me, dear, are you going to keep crying?" he asked, sounding very put out by the thought.

"Don't call me that! I am no more dear to you than the thirty-four other strangers you have here in your cage."

He walked closer, not seeming at all offended by my loose speech. He just looked ... thoughtful. It was an interesting expression on his face.

His walk was graceful for a boy, and he looked incredibly comfortable as he paced around me. My bravery melted a little in the face of how awkward this was. He was fully dressed in his sharp suit, and I was cowering and half-naked. As if his rank didn't threaten me enough, his demeanor did. He must have had plenty of experience dealing with unhappy people; he was exceptionally calm as he answered.

"That is an unfair statement. You are all dear to me. It is simply a matter of discovering who shall be the dearest."

"Did you really just use the word *shall'?"

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I did. Forgive me, it's a product of my education."

"Education," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Ridiculous."

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"It's ridiculous!" I yelled, regaining some of my courage.

"What is?"

"This contest! The whole thing! Haven't you ever loved anyone at all? Is this how you want to pick a wife? Are you really so shallow?" I shifted on the ground a little. To make things easier for me, he sat on the bench so I wouldn't have to twist. I was too upset to be thankful.

"I can see how I would appear that way, how this whole thing could seem like it's nothing more than cheap entertainment. But in my world, I am very guarded. I don't meet very many women. The ones I do are daughters of diplomats, and we usually have very little to discuss. And that's when we manage to speak the same language."

Maxon seemed to think that was a joke, and he laughed lightly. I wasn't amused. He cleared his throat.

"Circ.u.mstances being what they are, I haven't had the opportunity to fall in love. Have you?"

"Yes," I said matter-of-factly. As soon as the word came out, I wished I could steal it back. That was a private thing, none of his business.

"Then you have been quite lucky." He sounded jealous.

Imagine that. The one thing I could hold over the head of the Prince of Illea, 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 Illea 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 embarra.s.sing. 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 compa.s.sion.

"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 gra.s.s, 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?