The Heir (The Selection #4)(9)
“That’ll certainly be an exciting time, but I’m not sure I want to wait that long to make history.” I gave him a playful nudge with my elbow, and he mocked surprise.
“Why don’t you tell us what you have in mind, Your Highness?”
I squared my shoulders in front of camera C and smiled. “Our great country has gone through many changes over the years. In my parents’ lifetimes alone we’ve seen the rebel forces within our country practically run into extinction, and though we still face challenges, the caste system no longer divides our people along imaginary lines. We live in an era of extraordinary freedom, and we wait with anticipation to see our nation become everything it possibly can.”
I remembered to smile and speak articulately. Years of lessons on how to address an audience had drilled the proper technique into me, and I knew I was hitting every last point I was meant to as I delivered my announcement.
“And that’s great . . . but I’m still an eighteen-year-old girl.” The small audience of guests and advisers giggled. “It gets a little boring when you spend the majority of the day in an office with your dad. No offense, Your Majesty,” I added, turning to Dad.
“None taken,” he called back.
“And so I’ve decided it’s time for a change of pace. It’s time to search, not just for someone to be a coworker with me in this very demanding job, but for a partner to walk with me through life. To do that, I’m hoping Illéa will indulge my deepest wish: to have a Selection.”
The advisers gasped and muttered. I saw the shocked faces of the staff. It became clear that the only person who was already in on this was Gavril, which surprised me.
“Tomorrow, letters will be sent to all the eligible young men in Illéa. You’ll have two weeks to decide whether you would like to compete for my hand. I realize, of course, that this is uncharted territory. We’ve never had a female-run Selection before. Still, even though I have three brothers, I’m very excited to meet another prince of Illéa. And I’m hoping that all of Illéa will celebrate with me.”
I gave a small curtsy and retreated to my seat. Mom and Dad were beaming proudly at me, and I tried to tell myself that their reaction was enough, though I felt like my blood was trembling in my veins. I couldn’t help but think I’d missed something, that there was a gaping hole in the net I’d set up to catch myself.
But there was nothing I could do. I’d just thrown myself off the ledge.
CHAPTER 5
I KNEW WE HAD AN arsenal of staff working at the palace, but I was convinced the majority of them had been in hiding until today. As the announcement of this unexpected Selection spread, it wasn’t simply the maids and butlers running around in preparation, but people I’d never even seen before.
My daily workload of reading reports and sitting in on meetings shifted as I became the focal point of the Selection preparations.
“This is slightly less expensive, Your Highness, but it is still incredibly comfortable and would work well with the existing decor.” A man held out a very large swatch of fabric, which he draped over the previous two options.
I touched it, enchanted by the texture of cloth as I usually was, though this was clearly not intended to be worn.
“I’m not sure I understand why we’re doing this,” I confessed.
The man, one of the palace decorators, pressed his lips together. “It has been suggested that some of the guest rooms are a bit feminine and that your suitors might be more comfortable in something like this,” he said, pulling out yet another option. “We can make a room look entirely different with a simple bedspread,” he assured me.
“Fine,” I said, thinking it was a little unnecessary to get this worked up over some sheets. “But do I need to make this decision?”
He smiled kindly. “Your fingerprints will be all over this Selection, miss. Even if you don’t choose, people will assume you did. We might as well get your authority on all things.”
I stared at the fabric, more than a little exhausted thinking about how all these silly details would point back to me. “This one.” I chose the least-expensive option. It was a deep green and would be perfectly acceptable for a three-month stay.
“Very wise, Your Highness,” the decorator complimented. “Now, should we consider adding new art as well?” He clapped his hands, and a stream of maids walked in carrying paintings. I sighed, knowing my afternoon was lost.
The following morning I was summoned to the dining hall. Mom came with me, but Dad couldn’t be pulled away from his work.
A man I assumed was our head chef bowed to us, not able to go very low because of his wide stomach. His face was closer to red than white, but he didn’t sweat, which made me think that all the years in the kitchen had simply steamed him.
“Thank you for joining us, Your Majesty, Your Highness. The kitchen staff has been working day and night to find appropriate options for the first dinner once your suitors arrive. We want to serve seven courses, obviously.”
“Of course!” Mom replied.
The chef smiled at her. “Naturally, we would like your approval for the final menu.”
I groaned internally. A true seven-course meal could take six hours from the first sip of a cocktail to the final bite of chocolate. How long would it take to sample several different options for each course?