The Prince: A Selection Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) (3 page)

An advisor walked into the room, handing a letter to Father as I straightened the stack of papers, tapping them against the desk. “Yes, sir.”

He read the paper, and I looked at him one last time.

Maybe.

No.

At the end of the day, no. He wanted to make me a man, not a machine.

With a grunt, he crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. “Damn rebels.”

I spent the better part of the next morning working in my room, away from prying eyes. I felt much more productive when I was alone, and if I wasn’t productive, at least I wasn’t being chastised. I guessed that wouldn’t last all day, based on the invitation I received.

“You called for me?” I asked, stepping into my father’s private office.

“There you are,” Father said, his eyes wide. He rubbed his hands together. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

I drew in a breath. “Yes. Do we need to go over the format for the
Report
?”

“No, no.” He put a hand on my back to move me forward, and I straightened instantly, following his lead. “It’ll be simple enough. Introduction, a little chat with Gavril, and then we’ll broadcast the names and faces of the girls.”

I nodded. “Sounds . . . easy.”

When we reached the edge of his desk, he placed his hand on a thick stack of folders. “These are them.”

I looked down. Stared. Swallowed.

“Now, about twenty-five or so have rather obvious qualities that would be perfect for a new princess. Excellent families, ties to other countries that might be very valuable. Some of them are just extraordinarily beautiful.” Uncharacteristically, he playfully elbowed my rib, and I stepped to the side. None of this was a game. “Sadly, not all of the provinces offered up anyone worth note. So, to make it all appear a bit more random, we used those areas to add in a bit more diversity. You’ll see we got a few Fives in the mix. Nothing below that, though. We have to have
some
standards.”

I played his words in my head again. All this time, I thought it would be fate or destiny . . . but it was just him.

He ran his thumb down the stack, and the edges of the papers smacked together.

“Do you want a peek?” he asked.

I looked at the pile again. Names, photos, and lists of accomplishments. All the essential details were there. Still, I knew for a fact the form didn’t ask anything about what made them laugh or urge them to spill their darkest secret. Here sat a compilation of attributes, not people. And based on those statistics, they were my only choices.

“You chose them?” I pulled my eyes from the papers and looked to him.

“Yes.”

“
All
of them?”

“Essentially,” he said with a smile. “Like I said, there are a few there for the sake of the show, but I think you’ve got a very promising lot. Far better than mine.”

“Did your father choose for you?”

“Some. But it was different then. Why do you ask?”

I thought back. “This is what you meant, wasn’t it? When you said it was years of work on your end?”

“Well, we had to make sure certain girls would be of age, and in some provinces we had several options. But, trust me, you’re going to love them.”

“Am I?”

Love them?
As if he cared. As if this wasn’t just another way to push the crown, the palace, and himself ahead.

Suddenly, his offhand comment about Daphne being a waste made sense. He didn’t care if I was close to her because she was charming or good company; he cared that she was
France
. Not even a person to him. And since he basically had what he needed from France, she was useless in his eyes. Had she proven valuable, I had no doubt that he would have been willing to throw a beloved tradition out this window.

He sighed. “Don’t mope. I thought you’d be excited. Don’t you even want to look?”

I straightened my suit coat. “As you’ve said, this is nothing to daydream over. I’ll see them when everyone else does. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish reading the amendment you drafted.”

I walked away without waiting for approval, but I felt certain my answer would be a sufficient enough excuse to let me leave.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly sabotage, but it certainly felt like a trap. To find one girl I liked out of dozens he handpicked? How was that supposed to happen?

I told myself to calm down. He picked Mom, after all, and she was a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent person. But that happened without this level of interference, it seemed. And things were different now, or so he claimed.

Between Daphne’s words, Father’s interloping, and my own growing fears, I was dreading the Selection like never before.

W
ITH JUST FIVE MINUTES TO
go before my entire future unfolded in front of me, I found myself prepared to vomit at a moment’s notice.

A very kind makeup woman was dabbing sweat off my brow.

“Are you all right, sir?” she asked, moving the cloth.

“I was just lamenting that with all the lipstick you have over there, not a one appears to be my shade.” Mom said that sometimes:
not my shade
. Not really sure what it meant.

She giggled, as did Mom and her makeup woman.

“I think I’m good,” I told the girl, looking in the mirrors set up in the back of the studio. “Thank you.”

“Me, too,” Mom said, and the two young women walked away.

I toyed with a container, trying not to think about the passing seconds.

“Maxon, sweetie, are you really okay?” Mom asked, looking not at me but at my reflection. I looked back at hers.

“It’s just . . . it’s . . .”

“I know. It’s nerve-racking for everyone involved, but at the end of the day, it’s just hearing the names of a few girls. That’s all.”

I inhaled slowly and nodded. That was one way to look at it. Names. That was all that was happening. Just a list of names and nothing more.

I drew in another breath.

It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten much today.

I turned and walked to my seat on the set, where Father was already waiting.

He shook his head. “Get it together. You look like hell.”

“How did you do this?” I begged.

“I faced it with confidence because I was the prince. As will you. Need I remind you that you’re the prize?” His face looked tired again, like I ought to have already grasped this. “They’re competing for you, not the other way around. Your life isn’t changing at all, except you’ll have to deal with a couple of overly excited females for a few weeks.”

“What if I don’t like any of them?”

“Then pick the one you hate the least. Preferably one that’s useful. Don’t worry on that count, though; I’ll help.”

If he intended that to be a calming thought, he failed.

“Ten seconds,” someone called, and my mother came to her seat, giving me a comforting wink.

“Remember to smile,” Father prompted, and turned to face the cameras confidently.

Suddenly the anthem was playing and people were speaking. I realized I ought to be paying attention, but all of my focus was driven toward keeping a calm and happy expression on my face.

I didn’t register much until I heard Gavril’s familiar voice.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said, and I swallowed in fear before realizing he was addressing my father.

“Gavril, always good to see you.”

“Looking forward to the announcement?”

“Ah, yes. I was in the room yesterday as a few were drawn; all very lovely girls.” He was so smooth, so natural.

“So you know who they are already?” Gavril asked excitedly.

“Just a few, just a few.” A complete fabrication, pulled off with incredible ease.

“Did he happen to share any of this information with you, sir?” Now Gavril was talking to me, the glint from his lapel pin sparkling in the bright lights as he moved.

Father turned to me, his eyes reminding me to smile. I did so and answered.

“Not at all. I’ll see them when everyone else does.” Ugh, I should have said
the ladies
, not
them
. They were guests, not pets. I discreetly wiped the sweat from my palms on my pants.

“Your Majesty,” Gavril said, moving to my mother. “Any advice for the Selected?”

I watched her. How long did it take for her to become so poised, so flawless? Or was she always that way? A bashful tilt of her head and even Gavril melted.

“Enjoy your last night as an average girl. Tomorrow, no matter what, your life will be different forever.”
Yes, ladies, yours and mine both
. “And it’s old advice, but it’s good: be yourself.”

“Wise words, my queen, wise words.” He turned with a wide sweep of his arm to the cameras. “And with that, let us reveal the thirty-five young ladies chosen for the Selection. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating the following Daughters of Illéa.”

I watched the monitors as the national emblem popped up, leaving a small box in the corner showing my face. What? They were going to watch me the whole time?

Mom put her hand on mine, just out of the sight of the camera. I breathed in. Then out. Then in again.

Just a bunch of names. Not a big deal. Not like they were announcing one, and she was it.

“Miss Elayna Stoles of Hansport, Three,” Gavril read off a card. I worked hard to smile a little brighter. “Miss Tuesday Keeper of Waverly, Four,” he continued.

Still looking excited, I bent toward Father. “I feel sick,” I whispered.

“Just breathe,” he answered back through his teeth. “You should have looked yesterday; I knew it.”

“Miss Fiona Castley of Paloma, Three.”

I looked over to Mom. She smiled. “Very pretty.”

“Miss America Singer of Carolina, Five.”

I heard the word
Five
and realized that must have been one of Father’s throwaway picks. I didn’t even catch the picture, as my new plan was to stare just above the monitors and smile.

“Miss Mia Blue of Ottaro, Three.”

It was too much to absorb. I’d learn their names and faces later, when the nation wasn’t watching.

“Miss Celeste Newsome of Clermont, Two.” I raised my eyebrows, not that I even saw her face. If she was a Two, she must be an important one, so I’d better look impressed.

“Clarissa Kelley of Belcourt, Two.”

As the list rolled on, I smiled to the point that my cheeks ached. All I could think of was how much this meant to me—how a huge part of my life was falling into place right now—and I couldn’t even rejoice in it. If I’d picked the names myself out of a bowl in a private room, saw their faces on my own, before anyone else, how that would have changed everything in this moment.

These girls were mine, the only thing in the world that might ever truly feel that way.

And then they weren’t.

“And there you have it!” Gavril announced. “Those are our beautiful Selection candidates. Over the next week they will be prepared for their trip to the palace, and we will eagerly await their arrival. Tune in next Friday for a special edition of the
Report
devoted exclusively to getting to know these spectacular women. Prince Maxon,” he said, turning my way, “I congratulate you, sir. Such a stunning group of young women.”

“I’m quite speechless,” I replied, not lying in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’m sure the girls will do most of the talking once they arrive next Friday. And to you”—he spoke to the camera—“don’t forget to stay tuned for all the latest Selection updates right here on the Public Access Channel. Good night, Illéa!”

The anthem played, the lights went down, and I finally let my posture relax.

Father stood and gave me a firm and startling pat on the back. “Well done. That was a vast deal better than I thought you’d fare.”

“I have no clue what just happened.”

He laughed along with a handful of advisors who were lingering on set. “I told you, son, you’re the prize. There’s no need to be stressed. Don’t you agree, Amberly?”

“I assure you, Maxon, the ladies have much more to worry about than you do,” she confirmed, rubbing my arm.

“Exactly,” Father said. “Now, I’m starving. Let’s enjoy our last few peaceful meals together.”

I stood, walking slowly, and Mom kept my pace.

“That was a blur,” I whispered.

“We’ll get the photos and applications to you so you can study them at your leisure. It’s just like getting to know anyone. Treat it like spending time with any of your other friends.”

“I don’t have very many friends, Mom.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Yes, it’s confining in here,” she agreed. “Well, think about Daphne.”

“What about her?” I asked, a bit on edge.

Mom didn’t notice. “She’s a girl, and you two have always been friendly. Pretend it’s just like that.”

I faced forward. Without realizing it, she soothed a huge fear in my heart while stoking another.

Since our fight, whenever I thought about Daphne, it wasn’t about how she might be getting along with Frederick right now, or how much I missed her company. All I thought about were her accusations.

If I was in love with her, certainly it would be all of her attributes that filled my head. Or tonight, as the Selected girls were listed, I would have wished her name were in there somewhere.

Maybe Daphne was right, and I didn’t know how to properly show love. But even if that were the case, I knew with a growing certainty that I didn’t love her.

A corner of my soul rejoiced in knowing that I wasn’t missing out on something. I could enter the Selection with no restraints on my affection. But in another space, I mourned. At least if I had misunderstood my emotions, I could boast at the fact that once upon a time, I’d been in love, that I knew what it felt like. But I still had no clue. I supposed it was always meant to be that way.

I
N THE END,
I
DIDN’T
look at the applications. I had a lot of reasons to not bother, but ultimately, I convinced myself it was best if it was a clean slate for all of us once we were introduced. Besides, if Father had pored over all the candidates in detail, maybe I didn’t want to.

I held a comfortable distance between the Selection and myself . . . until the event crossed my threshold.