The One (The Selection, #3)(41)

I laughed once and put my hand to my forehead, feeling a little sick. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself.

Celeste met me halfway, swinging her branch with each step. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just not feeling well, I guess.”

“Do. Not. Puke,” she ordered. “Especially not on me.”

“I won’t throw up,” I assured her.

“Who threw up?” Kriss asked, joining the conversation; and Elise followed behind her.

“No one,” I said. “I’m just tired or something.”

“It won’t last too long,” Kriss reassured me.

It’ll last forever, I thought. I looked at each of their faces. They’d come to my side just now. Wouldn’t I have done the same for them? Maybe . . .

“Do any of you actually feel good about doing this?” I asked.

They all looked at one another or the floor, but no one answered.

“Then let’s not do it,” I urged.

“Not do it?” Kriss questioned. “America, it’s tradition. We have to.”

“No we don’t. Not if we all decide not to.”

“What would we do? Refuse to walk in there?” Celeste asked.

“That’s one option,” I offered.

“You want us to sit in there and do nothing?” Elise sounded appalled.

“I hadn’t thought it through. I just know I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I could see that Kriss was genuinely considering it.

“It’s a trick!” Elise accused.

“What?” How could she come to that conclusion?

“She’s going last. If we all do nothing and then she follows through, she looks obedient while the rest of us look like idiots.” Elise shook her branch at me as she spoke.

“America?” Kriss looked at me, disappointment filling her eyes.

“No, I swear; that’s not what I was going to do!”

“Ladies!” We all turned toward Silvia’s correcting tone. “I understand that you’re nervous, but that’s no reason to shout.”

Her gaze hit each of us, and we all exchanged looks as they decided whether to go in on this with me.

“All right,” Silvia began. “Elise, you’ll be first, just as we practiced. Celeste and Kriss, you will follow; and America, you’ll be last. One at a time, carry your branch up the red carpet and place it at the feet of the king. Then come back and take your seat. The king will say a few words, and the ceremony will start.”

She stepped over to what looked like a small box on a stand and turned it around to show a television monitor with a view of everything happening inside the Great Room. It was magnificent. Red carpeting divided the room into the seats for the press and guests, and the four seats delegated for us. In the back of the space, the thrones sat, waiting for the royal family.

As we watched, the side door to the Great Room opened, and the king, the queen, and Maxon came in to applause and trumpeting fanfare. Once they were seated, a slower, more dignified melody started playing.

“There it is. Now, head high,” Silvia instructed. Elise gave me a pointed look and strode around the corner.

The music was dotted by the sound of hundreds of cameras taking her picture. It made for a strange rhythm section. She did great, though, as we could all see on the monitor Silvia was watching. Celeste followed, straightening her hair before she left. Kriss’s smile looked absolutely genuine and natural as she paraded down the aisle.

“America,” Silvia whispered. “Your turn.”

I tried to wipe the worry off my face and focus on positive things, but I realized there weren’t any. I was about to kill a part of myself by punishing someone beyond what I thought was deserved and give the king something he wanted in a neat, short stroke.

The cameras clicked, the bulbs flashed, and people whispered their praises to one another as I walked quietly toward the royal family. I made eye contact with Maxon, who was the picture of calm. Was that his years of discipline or true happiness coming through? His face was reassuring, but I was certain he could see the anxiety in my gaze. I saw my open spot for the olive branch and curtsied before placing my offering at the king’s feet, deliberately looking at anything in the room other than him.

As soon as I was in my place, the music came to a perfectly calculated stop. King Clarkson walked forward, standing on the edge of his stage, the circle of branches at his feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Illéa, today the final four beautiful young women of the Selection come before us all to present themselves to the law. Our great laws are what hold our nation together, the foundation for the peace we’ve so long enjoyed.”

Peace? I thought. Are you kidding?

“One of these young ladies will stand before you soon, no longer a commoner, but a princess. And as a member of the royal family, it will be her job to hold on to what is right, not for her own benefit, but for yours.”

. . . and how am I doing that now?

“Please join me in applauding their humility in their submission to the law and their bravery in upholding it.”

The king started clapping, and the room joined him. The applause continued as he stepped away, and I glanced down the row of girls. The only face I could really see was Kriss’s. She shrugged and gave me a half smile before facing forward again and raising herself to her full height.