The Crown (The Selection #5)(42)

“Is he well?” I asked into her ear.

“Oui, very.”

“And are your people pleased? Do they accept him?”

“As if he was born one of our own.”

I held her tighter. “Thank you.”

I pulled away, turning to see my stupid brother.

“You clean up nice,” he teased.

I didn’t know if I should joke with him or punch him in the arm or scream or laugh or anything at all. So I crushed him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I shook my head. “You were right. I miss you so much it hurts, but you had to go.”

“As soon as I heard about Mom, I wanted to come back. But I didn’t know if it would make things worse or better, or if it was even fair for me to show up since it seemed I was the cause.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that matters is that you’re here now.”

He held me close for a minute as Lady Brice organized everyone into cars. The advisers went first and the Elite just after, all of them bowing deeply to me, Erik especially. He didn’t meet my eyes, and I was grateful. Who knew what my stupid heart might have done if he had?

It did melt a little when he walked away, pulling repeatedly at his sleeves, seeming painfully uncomfortable in his suit.

“Okay, next car,” Lady Brice announced. “Everyone whose last name is Schreave, even you, Monsieur French Prince.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ahren said, taking Camille’s hand.

“Eadlyn’s in first, followed by Neena and Josie. The rest of the family in after that, and I’ll be in a car right behind you.”

Dad paused. “Brice, you should be with us.”

“Absolutely,” Mom agreed. “There’s room in the limo, and you’re the one holding this whole thing together.”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” she replied.

Neena tilted her head, trying to put doubt in Lady Brice’s mind. “It could easily fall apart on the ten-minute drive.”

“Also, the likelihood of someone thinking Neena and I are sisters is slim,” I added. “Stay with us.”

She pursed her lips as if she thought this was somehow a bad idea. “Fine. Let’s go.”

We piled into the limo, my dress taking up the space of three people. There was so much laughter and feet stepping over feet that the whole thing started to feel funny. I took a deep breath. All I had to do was say a few words, make a promise I’d already made in my heart. I looked across the car to Mom. She gave me a wink, and that was all I needed.

Josie and Neena followed me down the aisle of the church, holding my cape so it didn’t drag across the floor. As I walked, I looked at the signet ring on my finger, the Illéan crest gleaming in the center. Dad already trusted me in this role. He was already delighted with the way I was handling it. This was just making everything official.

I caught the eyes of as many people as I could, hoping to convey my gratitude. At the head of the church, I knelt on the little resting stool, feeling the weight of my dress fanned out behind me. The bishop took the ceremonial crown and held it above my head.

“Are you, Eadlyn Schreave, willing to take this oath?”

“I am willing.”

“Do you vow to uphold the laws and honor of Illéa all the days of your life, governing your people according to their traditions and customs?”

“I do.”

“And do you vow to protect the interests of Illéa, both at home and abroad?”

“I do.”

“And do you vow to use your power and placement to bring mercy and justice for all Illéa’s people?”

“I do.”

It felt appropriate that vows to a country required four affirmations, whereas vows to another person only required one. With my final words spoken, the bishop set the crown on my head. I rose and turned to face my people, my cape looking rather beautiful curled up around my feet like a cat. The bishop placed the scepter in my left hand and the orb in my right.

There was a loud knock of a staff on the floor, and the people around me shouted, “God save the queen.”

And I felt a thrill in my chest to know those words were meant for me.





“OSTEN, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE, STAND up,” Mom ordered.

“But it’s so hot,” he complained as we began what would be a marathon photo session.

Dad stepped around me. “You can pull it together for five minutes of pictures, son.”

Ahren laughed. “Oh, I’ve missed you all.”

I swatted him. “I’m so glad no one’s actually filming this.”

“Okay, okay. We’re all ready,” Dad called to the photographer. He and Mom posed behind me, their arms on the back of my chair. Osten and Ahren knelt on either side of me, while Kaden stood with one hand behind his back, almost challenging me for the most regal-looking family member of the day.

The photographer snapped shot after shot until he was satisfied. “And who’s next?”

We all stayed where we were, pulling Camille into the picture. Then, so we would have a picture of the whole family, each of the Elite boys was rotated through the portrait.