The Crown (The Selection #5)(28)

I walked over to shake hands with a woman who looked like she’d taken more time on her hair than I had and her husband who, while handsome, could have knocked someone out with the amount of cologne he’d put on.

“Your Highness,” the woman greeted, dropping into a curtsy. “My name is Sharron Spinner, and this is my husband, Don.” He bowed. “We’re so pleased to be here. It’s so nice the palace is taking time to hear from its people.”

I nodded. “It’s long overdue. Please, help yourself to some refreshments and make yourself comfortable. The producers might stop to interview you as people settle in, but you’re under no obligation to speak to them if you don’t want to.”

Sharron touched the corners of her lips, making sure her makeup was as pristine as possible. “No, we don’t mind at all. Come on, honey.”

I could barely contain my eye roll. The Spinners seemed a little too eager to be on camera.

Behind the Spinners were the Barnses and the Palters. There was a girl on her own, Bree Marksman, and two younger men, Joel and Blake, who had met in the foyer and were already talking like friends. Finally a younger couple who introduced themselves as the Shells walked in. They looked like they had done their best to scrape together some nice clothes for the occasion and had come up short.

“Brenton and Ally, you said?” I waved a hand, inviting them to walk beside me.

“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you so much for having us.” Brenton smiled, looking grateful and bashful at once. “Does this mean that we’re going to be able to move now?”

I stopped, turning to face them. Ally swallowed, clearly trying not to get her hopes up.

“Move?”

“Yeah. Down in Zuni we’ve been trying to move out of our neighborhood for a while.”

“It’s not very safe,” Ally added quietly.

“We’ve been thinking about starting a family. But they keep changing the prices of the apartments.”

“We had friends who moved, and they didn’t have any problems,” Ally insisted.

“But when we tried to get into the same area, the rent was double what it was for Nic and Ellen.”

“The owners said our friends must have misquoted the rate, but … well, I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything, but Nic was born a Three, and we both would be Fives.

“We just want to live somewhere safer,” Brenton added with a shrug. “Even if you can’t fix it, we thought meeting with the princess might help things.”

“Your Highness,” the producer said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re starting.” She showed the Shells to their seats, and I sat across from everyone, unsure of how to begin.

I laughed, trying to break the tension. “Since we’ve never done this before, we don’t really have an outline to follow. Does anyone have any questions?”

One of the young men—Blake, I remembered—raised his hand, and I watched as cameras changed angles to focus on his face.

“Yes, Blake?”

“When will the king be back?”

And, just like that, I became insignificant. “I’m not sure. It depends on when my mother is fully recovered.”

“But he will be back, right?”

I forced myself to smile. “If, for some reason, he didn’t return, the state would continue as usual. I have always been next in line to rule, and I have the same ideals as my father. He wanted so badly to see the castes brought to an end, and now that they’re gone, I would seek to further erase the lines they’ve left in their wake.”

I peeked over at Marid, who gave me a quick thumbs-up.

“But that’s the thing,” Andrew Barns began. “The palace has done nothing to help those of us whose parents were Fives and Sixes or lower.”

“I think we’ve been at a loss as to what would be most effective. That’s part of why you’re here today. We want to hear from you.” I crossed my hands on my lap, hoping I looked put together.

“Do monarchs ever really hear their people?” Bree asked. “Have you considered handing the government over to the public? Don’t you think there’s a chance we might do a better job than you?”

“Well—”

Sharron cut me off, turning to Bree. “Sweetie, you can barely dress yourself. How do you think you could possibly run a country?”

“Give me a vote!” Bree demanded. “That alone would change plenty.”

Mr. Palter—Jamal—leaned forward. “You’re too young,” he said, also ganging up on Bree. “I want to see change myself. I’ve lived through the castes. I was a Three, and I lost a lot since then. You kids don’t know enough about where we’ve been to even contribute to the conversation.”

The other single boy stood up, enraged. “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention or that I don’t know people who’ve struggled. I want this country to be better for everyone, not just me.”

We were less than five minutes in, and the entire conversation had turned into a barking contest. It didn’t even seem to matter that I was there. Plenty of people mentioned me, of course, but no one actually spoke to me.

I supposed trying to get a glimpse at a wide range of lifestyles meant we were going to have conflict, but I wished Marid had vetted these people better. Then again, maybe he had, and we still ended up with people who didn’t care if I was present or not. I’d spent so much time worrying that they’d hate me that I hadn’t paused to consider the possibility that I was simply irrelevant in their eyes.