Chapter 6
948 Words
I woke to the sound of bells. For a moment I had no idea where I was, then I saw the unfamiliar ceiling, the enormous bed, the curtains, the polished wooden furniture. The palace.
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. The bells rang again.
“Wonderful.”
A knock came at the door. I ignored it. Another knock.
“Miss Vale?” I sat up.
“Yes?”
“Breakfast will be served in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
The footsteps disappeared. I looked at the clock on the wall. Twenty-nine minutes. Plenty of time. I lay back down.
⸻
I arrived at breakfast with four minutes to spare. Eliza was already seated.
“You’re late.”
“I’m early.”
“You’re almost late.”
“That’s different.”
She pushed a cup toward me.
“Tea.”
I took it gratefully.
“How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead.”
“Did you dream?”
“No.”
“About the princes?”
I nearly choked on my tea.
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m drinking hot tea.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
I looked around the room. There were far fewer candidates than at dinner, most sitting in small groups already forming alliances. A few girls were whispering, and one of them glanced my way, then another.
“What?”
Eliza lowered her voice.
“You don’t know?”
“Apparently not.”
“They’re talking about you.”
“Why?”
“Dinner.” I sighed.
“I said one thing.”
“You said the royal history was badly written.”
“It was.”
Eliza laughed into her cup.
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?”
“You caught the Queen’s attention.”
“So?”
“So that’s good. Most of us spent the entire dinner trying not to embarrass ourselves.”
“I embarrassed myself.”
“Yes.” She smiled.
“And somehow that worked better.”
Before I could answer, the room quieted. The Queen had entered, the princess beside her, and behind them, Cassian and Julian. The Crown Prince’s gaze moved across the room and stopped briefly on me before moving on. I looked down at my tea, unsure why my stomach had tightened.
“Relax,” Eliza whispered.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re holding your cup like you’re trying to kill it.”
I loosened my fingers.
“Better?”
“Much.”
The royal family took their places and breakfast began, the conversation less formal than the night before. The Queen spoke with several candidates, the princess asked about the different provinces, and the King mostly listened. The princes were different from each other in ways I was starting to notice. Julian seemed perfectly at ease, speaking to almost everyone, laughing easily, remembering names, making girls blush without any visible effort. Cassian spoke less, and when he did, people listened. He seemed
to observe the room more than he participated in it.
Then Julian turned toward me.
“Miss Vale.” I looked up.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Do you always speak so honestly?”
A few girls turned their heads. I set my cup down.
“I try to.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It probably is.” He smiled.
“Do you ever think before you speak?”
“Sometimes.”
“And last night?”
“Apparently not.” A few girls laughed. Julian’s smile widened.
“I want to know what you think of the selection. Truly think.”
I looked down, avoiding his eyes.
“It was the only thing people talked about for days.”
“And?” I hesitated.
“That being chosen means your family never goes hungry again.”
“I asked what you think. Not what your people want.”
I looked at him then.
“I think it’s a scheme.”
The table seemed to grow quieter.
“A scheme?”
“An illusion. Dressing up young girls, teaching us how to smile, how to sit, how to speak, then putting us in front of the royal family and asking you to decide which of us is worthy.”
I glanced around the table.
“Like dolls.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“You think we’re playing with you?”
“I think you have the power to.” His eyes flashed.
“Then why did you come?”
“Because I made a promise.”
“To whom?”
“My mother.”
“And she wanted this for you?”
“She wanted what she thought was best for me.”
“And you don’t?” I shook my head.
“My idea of what’s best for me and hers aren’t the same.”
For a moment he said nothing. Then he laughed, quietly at first, almost disbelieving. I hadn’t expected that. Across the table, Cassian looked at his brother, a brief glance that carried something like a warning. Julian ignored it.
“Do you know how many people have criticized that book?”
“No.”
“None. Not to the Queen’s face.”
“Oh.” He smiled again.
“I think you may be the first.”
I glanced toward Cassian. He was watching his brother now, and when his eyes shifted to mine, they held for only a second before he gave me the smallest nod, almost imperceptible, and returned to his breakfast.
I had no idea what that meant.
And somehow, I had a feeling I was going to find out soon.
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