The Crown (The Selection #5)(12)

“I’m serious, Kile.”

“So am I! First of all, it’s strange to think about what it all means. Because you come with a title and a throne and a whole life planned out for you. That’s insane for me to try and take in. And second of all, more than anyone here, I know that you hold your cards close to your chest. A confession like that must be practically painful for you.”

I nodded. “Not that I’m mad that I like you … except that I kind of am.”

He laughed. “It is rather infuriating.”

“But I need to know, now, before we go any further, do you feel anything like that for me? Even the smallest glimmer of something? Because if not, I have to make plans.”

“And if I do?”

I lifted my arms and let them flop down to my sides again. “Then I still have to make plans, but they’ll be different.”

He sighed heavily. “Turns out you matter to me, too. And I wouldn’t have thought about it except for my designs lately.”

“Uh … how romantic?”

He laughed. “No, really, it kind of is. Usually I get excited about designing skyscrapers and homeless shelters, things that someone might remember, or might help people. But the other day I found myself designing you a summerhouse, a miniature palace, maybe something with a vineyard. This morning I got an idea for a beach house.”

I gasped. “I’ve always wanted a beach house!”

“Not that we’d ever get to use it with you running the world and all.”

“It’s a sweet thought all the same.”

He shrugged. “It just seems like everything I want to make lately is something for you.”

“That means a lot. I know how important your work is to you.”

“It’s not really my work. Something that I care about is all.”

“Okay, then. How about for now we just add this to that pile? This is something we care about, and we both know it, and we’ll watch it and see what happens.”

“That’s fair. I don’t want to discourage you at all, but it feels too soon to call this love.”

“Absolutely!” I agreed. “It’s too soon, and that’s too big.”

“Too busy.”

“Too scary.”

He laughed. “On par with being dethroned?”

“At least!”

“Wow. Okay.” He continued to smile, probably considering the unlikelihood of us falling for each other himself. “So, what now?”

“I continue the Selection, I think. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I have to keep going. I have to be certain.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t want you if you weren’t.”

“Thank you, sir.”

We stood there, the sound of the wind in the grass the only noise.

He cleared his throat. “I think we need food.”

“As long as I don’t have to cook it.”

He threw his arm around my shoulder as we turned back to the palace. It felt like a very boyfriendish thing to do. “But we did so great last time.”

“All I learned about was butter.”

“Then you know everything.”

In the morning I headed straight down to the hospital wing, desperate to see Mom’s face. Even if she was asleep, I just needed to be reminded she was alive and healing. But when I cracked open the door this time, she was sitting up, wide awake … and Dad was asleep. Smiling, she held up a finger to her lips. With her other hand she traced gentle lines through his hair as he lay spilled out of his chair and onto her bed, one arm beneath his head and the other across her lap.

I quietly walked to the other side of the bed to kiss her cheek.

“I keep waking up in the night,” she whispered, giving me a little squeeze. “All these tubes and things are bothering me. And every time, he’s awake, watching me. It does me good to see him sleep.”

“Me, too. He’s been looking a little rough.”

She smiled. “Eh. I’ve seen him worse. He’ll make it through this, too.”

“Have the doctors checked on you yet?”

She shook her head. “I asked them to come again once he’s rested a little. I’ll get back to my room soon enough.”

Of course. Of course the woman who just had a heart attack could spare getting herself to a more comfortable place so her husband could take a nap. Seriously, even if I did find someone, could it ever compare to them?

“How are you doing? Is everyone being helpful?” Mom continued to run her hand through Dad’s hair.

“I fired Coddly. I don’t think I told you yesterday.”

She stilled, staring intently. “What? Why?”

“Oh, no big deal. He just wanted to go to war.”

She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh at how cavalierly I discussed invasion. A second later she stopped smiling at all and moved both of her hands to her chest.

“Mom?” I asked too loudly. Dad’s head instantly shot up.

“Darling? What’s wrong?”

Mom shook her head. “It’s just the stitches. I’m fine.”

Dad settled back into his seat but sat up, done with sleep for the moment. Mom tried to start up the conversation again, doing anything to take the focus off herself.