Happily Ever After (11 page)

It took a second for it all to click. They weren’t together anymore. She still cared about him, but she didn’t belong to him. I nodded, seeing the predicament. If I could get away from the pressures of my world for a week, I would take it.

“If you would be willing to let me stay, even for a little while, I’d be willing to make a trade.”

Now this was interesting. “A trade?” What in the world could she possibly offer?

She bit at her lip. “If you let me stay . . .” She sighed. “All right, well, look at you. You’re the prince. You’re busy all
day, what with running the country and all, and you’re supposed to narrow thirty-five, well, thirty-four girls, down to one? That’s a lot to ask, don’t you think?”

While it sounded like a joke, the truth was she cut to the core of my anxieties with absolute clarity. I nodded at her words.

“Wouldn’t it be much better for you if you had someone on the inside? Someone to help? Like, you know, a friend?”

“A friend?”

“Yes. Let me stay, and I’ll help you. I’ll be your friend. You don’t have to worry about pursuing me. You already know that I don’t have feelings for you. But you can talk to me anytime you like, and I’ll try and help. You said last night that you were looking for a confidante. Well, until you find one for good, I could be that person. If you want.”

If I want . . .
That wasn’t an option, it seemed, but at least I could help this girl. And maybe enjoy her company a little bit longer. Of course, Father would be livid if he knew I was using one of the girls for such a purpose . . . which made me like it much, much more.

“I’ve met nearly every woman in this room, and I can’t think of one who would make a better friend. I’d be glad to have you stay.”

I watched as the tension melted from her body. Despite the knowledge that her affections were unattainable, I couldn’t help but be drawn to try.

“Do you think that I could still call you ‘my dear’?” I asked teasingly.

She whispered back, “Not a chance.” Whether she meant it that way or not, it sounded like a challenge.

“I’ll keep trying. I don’t have it in me to give up.”

She made a face, almost irked but not exactly. “Did you call all of them that?” she asked, jerking her head toward the rest of the girls.

“Yes, and they all seemed to like it,” I replied, playfully smug.

The challenge in her smile was still there when she spoke. “That is the exact reason why I don’t.”

She stood, ending our interview, and I couldn’t help but be amused by her again. None of the others were eager to cut our time together short. I gave her a small bow; she answered with a rather rough curtsy, and walked away.

I smiled to myself, thinking of America, measuring her against the other girls. She was pretty, if a bit rough around the edges. It was an uncommon type of beauty, and I could tell she wasn’t aware of it. There was a certain . . . royal air she didn’t seem to possess, though there was, perhaps, something regal in her pride. And, of course, she didn’t desire me at all. Still, I couldn’t shake the urge to pursue her.

And that was how the Selection did its first act in my favor: if I had her here, at least I had the chance to try.

“I
F
I
HAVE ASKED YOU
to remain behind, please stay in your seats. If not, please proceed with Silvia here into the dining hall. I will join you shortly.”

I watched the girls cast glances at one another, some confused and others smug. I felt confident I’d made the right choices, and now came the task of dismissing them. It ought to be simple enough, especially since we’d hardly made contact. What would they be attached to?

The room emptied except for eight ladies, all smiling as they stood in front of me.

I stared back and suddenly wished that I had come up with some sort of speech before I lined them up.

“Thank you for staying a few extra minutes,” I said, then stalled. “Um, I want to thank you for . . . for . . . coming to the palace and for giving me the opportunity to meet you.”

Most giggled or lowered their eyes. Clarissa flipped her hair.

“I’m sorry to say, I don’t think it’s going to work out. Uh, you can go now?” The end sounded more like a question than a statement, and I was so grateful Father wasn’t here to witness it.

One girl—Ashley, I think—immediately started crying, and I tensed.

“Is it because I dyed my hair?” the girl next to her said.

“Huh?”

“It’s because I’m a Five, isn’t it?” Hannah asked.

“You are?”

Clarissa ran up to me and clutched my hand. “I can be better, I swear!”

“What?”

Mercifully, a guard pulled her off me and escorted her from the room. I was left standing there, watching her go, completely stunned at the outpouring of emotion. They were meant to be ladies. What in the world was going on?

“But why?” one of the girls asked, so sweetly that it actually, physically pained me. It was Daphne all over again.

I missed who said it, but I turned to see them all wearing similar expressions of dejection, their hopes dashed, it seemed. We’d only met twenty minutes ago. How was this possible?

“I’m sorry,” I said, truly feeling bad. “I just didn’t feel anything.”

Mia stepped forward, her face barely giving away that she
was on the edge of tears. Part of me admired her for her self-control. “What about how we feel? Doesn’t that matter?”

She tilted her head, her brown eyes demanding an answer.

“Of course it does. . . .”
Maybe I should cave.
I didn’t
have
to eliminate anyone the first day. But what kind of relationship would that create? I make a decision, she says I’m hasty, and then I give in?

No. This was my choice. I had to follow through.

“I’m very sorry to have caused you pain, but it’s quite a challenge to cut thirty-five talented, charming, beautiful women down to one that I’m meant to marry.” I spoke honestly, humbly. “I have to go with my gut. This is as much for the sake of your happiness as it is mine. I hope we can part from our short time together as friends.”

Mia, unimpressed with my speech, gave me a cold glare before walking past me and out the doors. Nearly all of the girls followed her; it appeared we would not be leaving on good terms.

Ashley, who seemed the most upset, came up and quietly embraced me. I awkwardly put my arms around her, as she sort of pinned them down.

“I can’t believe it’s over so quickly. I really thought I had a chance.” Her words came out in a stunned monotone. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

She stepped back, wiped her eyes, and once she was composed, gave me a very ladylike curtsy. “Good luck, Your Majesty.”

She raised her head and walked away.

“Ashley,” I called just before she reached the door.

She paused, hopeful.

No. I couldn’t. I had to be firm.

“Good luck to you, too.”

She smiled at me and left.

After a moment of silence, I looked to the guards in the room. “You can go,” I ordered, desperate for a moment of privacy. I walked over to the couch I’d used to interview the girls and put my head in my hands.

You can only marry one of them anyway. It had to be done. Maybe it seemed hasty, but it wasn’t. It was deliberate. You need to be deliberate.

I couldn’t help doubting myself. Ashley had been sweet at the end. Had I already made a mistake? But I felt nothing when she sat in front of me, not even a tiny hint of a connection.

I drew in a breath and pulled myself up. It was done. Time to move forward. There were twenty-seven other girls I needed to focus on now.

Pasting a smile on, I walked across the wide hall into the dining room, where everyone was already eating. I noticed a few chairs begin to scoot back.

“Please don’t rise, ladies. Enjoy your breakfasts.”
Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect.

I kissed Mom on the cheek and gave Father a pat before sitting down myself, wanting to be the picture of the family the public expected us to be.

“A few gone already, Your Majesty?” Justin asked, pouring my coffee.

“You know, I once read a book about people who practiced polygamy. One man with several wives. Crazy. I was just in a room with eight very unhappy women, and I have no idea why anyone would choose that.” My tone was light but the sentiment was real.

Justin laughed. “It’s a good thing you only need one, sir.”

“Indeed.” I drank my coffee, taking it black, thinking of Justin’s words.

I only needed one. Now, how did I find her?

“How many are gone?” Father asked, cutting his food.

“Eight.”

He nodded. “Good start.”

For all the doubt I felt, at least there was that.

I exhaled, trying to formulate a plan. I needed to get to know these girls individually. Scanning the room, I swallowed, considering the time and energy it was going to take to become close to twenty-seven girls.

A few of the Selected caught my wandering eyes and smiled as my gaze passed them. There were so many beautiful women here. I got the sense that a few of these girls had been on dates before and, perhaps foolishly, I was intimidated.

And then there was America, her mouth stuffed with a strawberry tart, her eyes rolling like she was in heaven. I stifled a laugh, and suddenly I had a plan.

“Lady America?” I called politely, nearly cracking up
again when she stopped chewing, eyes wide, as she turned to face me.

She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to finish quickly. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“How are you enjoying the food?” I wondered if her mind went to last night when she admitted that was her main reason for staying. It was liberating somehow to tell a joke that only one person understood in front of a room of people.

Maybe I imagined the glint of mischief in her eye.

“It’s excellent, Your Majesty. This strawberry tart . . . well, I have a sister who loves sweets more than I do. I think she’d cry if she tasted this. It’s perfect.”

I took a bite, needing a moment to orchestrate this. “Do you really think she would cry?” I asked.

America’s lovely face squinted in thought. “Yes, actually, I do. She doesn’t have much of a filter when it comes to her emotions.”

“Would you wager money on it?” I shot back.

“If I had any to bet, I certainly would,” she answered with a smile.

Perfect. “What would you be willing to barter instead? You seem to be very good at striking deals.”

Father cut his eyes at me. That joke wasn’t quite so well hidden.

“Well, what do you want?” she asked.

A first date that I can actually manage. A night with someone I don’t have to try to impress because she claims it’s impossible. A way to get this rolling again without making
all of these girls hate me.

I smiled. “What do
you
want?”

She considered. Really, she could have asked for anything. I was prepared to bribe her if I had to.

“If she cries,” she started hesitantly, “I want to wear pants for a week.”

I pressed my lips together as the rest of the room laughed. Even Father was amused, or at least playing at it. But what I liked the best was that, while the room giggled at her request, she didn’t duck her head or blush or think to ask for something else. She wanted what she wanted.

There was something charming about that.

“Done. And if she doesn’t, you owe me a walk around the grounds tomorrow afternoon.”

There were little sounds all over the room, including a sigh from Father at my choice. It was possible he was far more aware of the candidates than I was. She wouldn’t be on his list of favorites. Hell, she wasn’t really on the list at all.

America thought for a second and then nodded. “You drive a hard bargain, sir, but I accept.”

“Justin? Go make a parcel of strawberry tarts and send it to the lady’s family. Have someone wait while her sister tastes it, and let us know if she does, in fact, cry. I’m most curious about this.” Justin gave me a quick nod and grin before heading on his way. “You should write a note to send with it, and tell your family you’re safe. In fact, you all should. After breakfast, write a letter to your families, and we’ll make sure they receive them today.”

The girls—my girls—smiled joyfully. Over the course of the morning I’d met all the ladies, gotten most of their names right, dismissed several, and had arranged my first date. Though it left me feeling a little rattled, I’d have to call that a success.

“Sorry it took so long, Your Majesty. We had to go to a boutique in town,” Seymour said, pulling a rack of pants on hangers behind him.

“Not a problem,” I replied, setting aside the papers on my desk. I had decided to work in my room for the day. “What did you find?”

“We have several options, sir. I’m sure you’ll find something for the lady here.”

I stared at the clothes, absolutely confused. “So, what pants are good for women?”

Seymour shook his head and smiled. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I’ve got this completely under control. Now, these white ones would look a bit more feminine and will go well with anything her maids make for tops. The same would be true for this pair.”

He held out several options, and I tried to distinguish what made one better than the other, and guess at what she would like.

“Seymour, maybe this doesn’t matter, but she’s a Five. Do you think she’ll feel comfortable in these?”

He looked at the rack. “If she’s here, sir, she’s likely seeking luxury.”

“But if she was looking for luxury, would she have asked for pants in the first place?” I countered.

He nodded. “Jeans.” Reaching toward the back of the rack he pulled out a pair of denim pants. I’d never actually worn jeans before. Didn’t look particularly appealing. “I have a feeling these will be a winner.”

I looked at my options again. “Yes, go with these, but throw that first pair you picked up in there as well. And maybe one more for good measure. Will these fit her?”

Seymour smiled. “We’ll have them tailored and ready by this evening. Did the young lady win, then?”

I shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m hoping that if she does, and I give her more than she hoped for, she’ll go on the date with me anyway.”

“You must really like her,” Seymour said, pushing the rack into the hallway.

I didn’t answer, but as I shut the door, I thought about it. There was something about her. Even the way she didn’t like me drew me in, and I couldn’t help but smile.