The Heir (The Selection #4)(77)

I peeked back into the room. “It’s a success, don’t you think? Good food, excellent music, a wide range of company . . . it might be the best party I’ve ever thrown.”

“So diplomatic,” he said.

I turned back to Erik and smiled. “I feel like I’m the one competing tonight.”

“With who?” he asked, shocked.

“Camille, of course.” I looked back into the room, trying to hide behind the door as I watched. Erik came beside me, and we both followed her as she danced with Ahren across the floor.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s kind of you, but I know better. She’s everything I try to be.” I’d thought this to myself before, but I’d never admitted it to anyone. I wasn’t sure how Erik managed to make me want to confide this in him.

“But why would you try to be her when Eadlyn is more than enough?”

I whipped my head back to him, as if the concept was unimaginable. I was in a constant state of striving; I was never enough.

Erik’s words nearly brought tears to my eyes, and I reached down to take his hand as I’d done in my bedroom not that long ago.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you. However this whole thing ends, I think I’ve been enlightened just by crossing paths with some of you.”

He smiled. “And I’ll never be able to express what a privilege it’s been to know you.”

I think I meant to shake his hand, but we ended up standing there, connected in silence for a while.

“Did you put your name in?” I asked suddenly. “For the Selection, I mean?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, searching for an answer. “Because . . . who am I?”

“You’re Eikko.”

He stood there, slightly dazed at the sound of his given name. Finally, he smiled again.

“Yes, I’m Eikko. But you barely know me.”

“I know Eikko as well as he knows Eadlyn. And I can tell you, you are enough as well.”

He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand, the tiniest movement. And I could sense we were both wondering what would have happened if his name had been in one of those baskets. Maybe he’d be one of the contenders, maybe he wouldn’t have been picked at all . . . it was hard to say if the risk would have been worth it in the end.

“I should get back in there.” I pointed over my shoulder to the party.

“Of course. See you.”

I focused on my posture and stood as tall as I could, which was much more impressive in these heels Camille brought me. I walked into the room, graciously greeting everyone with a bow of my head. I could have stopped a dozen times, but I pushed on until I found Henri.

“Hello,” he greeted.

I meant to go see him a dozen times this week. But between dating at top speed, doing damage control, and planning for Camille, I hadn’t gotten to speak to Henri at all. I could see that he was anxious, and though I was sure Erik conveyed everything I’d said, I think we both knew we needed to actually speak, just the two of us.

“Okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “And you okay?”

I nodded.

With that he let out a massive sigh, and the bright face I’d come to expect was back again. I tried to think of all the disagreements and misunderstandings I’d had in my life. There was no way any of them was ended with less than five words. But that was genuinely all I needed from Henri to know his regret at possibly offending me without wishing at all that he could take back that kiss.

Maybe Erik had nothing to worry about. Maybe Henri and I could communicate just fine.

“Dance?” I asked, pointing to the floor.

“Please!”

I was nearly as tall as him in these shoes, and he wasn’t much of a dancer, but what he lacked in grace he made up for with enthusiasm. He spun me several times and even dipped me twice. When I came up the second time, laughing, I spotted Erik over his shoulder.

I could have been wrong, but his shy smile looked a little sad.





CHAPTER 31


CAMILLE LOOKED FLAWLESS ON THE front of every paper and a few of the gossip magazines that tended to equate our family with movie stars and singers. She brightened the mood in the Women’s Room simply by sitting there, and Aunt May came to visit for a few days solely to see her.

I knew why I had problems with Josie. She was bratty and juvenile and tried so hard to be me that I felt like I had to be overly guarded when she was near. But it was more complicated with Camille. Even her perfection was a quiet thing, as if she hardly noticed it at all. So though I really, really wanted to hate her, I knew that would look much worse for me than for the sweet, unassuming French girl.

“How is your mother?” Mom asked Camille, and something about her tone made it seem like she felt obligated to inquire about Queen Daphne. It was the one subject that seemed to take any effort between them.

Mom handed her a cup of tea, and Camille happily took it, pausing as she thought through her answer.

“Very well. She wanted me to send you her love.”

“I’ve been seeing pictures of her lately, and she looks the most content I’ve ever seen her.” Mom placed her hands in her lap, smiling kindly. This comment felt more genuine.