Josie was a commoner. She didn’t have any such restrictions.
Not that it stopped her from acting like she did.
“Well, at least you have some company for today, then. If you two don’t mind, I’m trying to rest.”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” Her friend bowed her head. Okay, she wasn’t too bad.
“I’ll see you at dinner!” Josie was a little too enthusiastic about it.
I tried to lull myself back into relaxation, but Josie’s piercing voice kept finding its way over to me, and I eventually scooped up my blanket and sketches, and headed inside. If I couldn’t enjoy myself here, I might as well figure out something else to do.
After being so exposed to the bright Angeles sun, the palace halls looked like twilight as I waited for my eyes to adjust. I blinked hard, trying to make out the face of the person coming toward me. It was Osten, carrying two notebooks as he rushed down the hall.
He shoved the books into my arms. “Hide these in your room, okay? And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
As quickly as he appeared, he vanished. I sighed, knowing that even attempting to comprehend would be pointless. I sometimes couldn’t stand the pressure placed on me from being born first, but thank goodness it was me and not Osten. Every time I tried to imagine him at the helm, it gave me a headache.
I flipped through the notebooks, curious as to what he was plotting. Turned out they weren’t his at all. They were Josie’s. I recognized her babyish handwriting, and, if that hadn’t given it away, the sheets of her and Ahren’s names in hearts made it all too obvious. It wasn’t just Ahren’s name though. A few pages later she was in love with all four members of Choosing Yesterday, a popular band, and just after that it was some actor. Anyone with any sort of clout would do, it seemed.
I decided to set the books on the floor by the doors to the garden. Whatever Osten had planned, there was no way it would be as distressing as her stumbling across them when she came inside, with no clue as to how they’d gotten there or who had seen them.
For someone who prided herself on being so close to the royal family, she really should have learned a lesson or two in discretion by now.
When I got to my room, Neena was at the ready, grabbing my blanket to place in the wash. I threw something on, not really in the mood to think about my outfit too much today. As I was about to fix my hair, I noticed some files on the table.
“Lady Brice dropped those off for you,” Neena said.
I stared at the folders. Though it was my first piece of actual work in a week, I couldn’t be bothered. “I’ll get to them later,” I promised, knowing that I probably wouldn’t. I’d maybe look at them tomorrow. Today was mine.
I pinned back my hair, double-checked my makeup, and went to look for Mom. I could use the company, and I felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t ask me to pick out furniture or food.
I found her alone in the Women’s Room. A plaque beside the door declared that the space was actually titled the Newsome Library, but I’d never heard anyone call it by that name except for Mom on occasion. It was the space where the women congregated, so the original label seemed more practical, I supposed.
I could tell Mom was in there before I even opened the door because I heard her playing the piano, and her sound was unmistakable. She loved to tell the story of how Dad made her pick out four brand-new pianos, each with various attributes, after they were married. They were placed all over the palace. One was in her suite, a second in Dad’s, one here, and another in a largely unused parlor on the fourth floor.
I was still jealous of how easy she made it look. I remembered her warning me that one day time would take the dexterity out of her hands, and she’d only be able to plunk away at one or two keys at a time. So far time had failed.
I tried to be quiet, but she heard me all the same.
“Hello, darling,” she called, pulling her fingers away from the keys. “Come sit with me.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I walked across the room, settling next to her on the bench.
“You didn’t. I was clearing my head, and I feel much better now.”
“Is something wrong?”
She smiled distractedly and rubbed her hand over my back. “No. Just the everyday wear and tear of the job.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, running my fingers along the keys, not actually making any sound.
“I keep thinking that I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve seen it all, where I’ve mastered everything about being queen. No sooner do I think it than everything changes. There are . . . Well, you have enough to worry about today. Let’s not bother with it.”
With some work she pasted a smile back onto her face, and while I wanted to know what was troubling her—because, in the end, all those troubles also fell on me—she was right. I simply couldn’t deal with it today.
It seemed she hardly could either.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes despite her efforts. “Entering the Selection and ending up queen?”
I was grateful she didn’t just immediately say yes or no but actually considered the question.
“I don’t regret marrying your father. I sometimes wonder about the life I would have had without the Selection, or if I had still come to the palace but lost. I think I would have been fine. Not unhappy exactly, but not aware of what else there could have been for me. But the path to him was a difficult one, mostly because I didn’t want to walk it.”
“At all?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t my idea to enter the Selection.”
My mouth fell open. She’d never told me that. “Whose was it?”
“That’s not important,” she answered quickly. “But I can tell you that I understand your reservations. I think the process will teach you a lot about yourself. I hope you’ll trust me on this.”
“It’d be a lot easier to trust you if I knew you were doing this for me and not to buy yourself some peace.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.
She took a deep breath. “I know you think this is selfish, but you’ll see. One day the welfare of the country will be on your shoulders, and you’ll be surprised at what you’d try in order to keep it all from crumbling. I never thought we’d have another Selection, but plans change when that much is demanded of you.”
“Plenty is demanded of me now,” I shot back.
Not that it stopped her from acting like she did.
“Well, at least you have some company for today, then. If you two don’t mind, I’m trying to rest.”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” Her friend bowed her head. Okay, she wasn’t too bad.
“I’ll see you at dinner!” Josie was a little too enthusiastic about it.
I tried to lull myself back into relaxation, but Josie’s piercing voice kept finding its way over to me, and I eventually scooped up my blanket and sketches, and headed inside. If I couldn’t enjoy myself here, I might as well figure out something else to do.
After being so exposed to the bright Angeles sun, the palace halls looked like twilight as I waited for my eyes to adjust. I blinked hard, trying to make out the face of the person coming toward me. It was Osten, carrying two notebooks as he rushed down the hall.
He shoved the books into my arms. “Hide these in your room, okay? And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
As quickly as he appeared, he vanished. I sighed, knowing that even attempting to comprehend would be pointless. I sometimes couldn’t stand the pressure placed on me from being born first, but thank goodness it was me and not Osten. Every time I tried to imagine him at the helm, it gave me a headache.
I flipped through the notebooks, curious as to what he was plotting. Turned out they weren’t his at all. They were Josie’s. I recognized her babyish handwriting, and, if that hadn’t given it away, the sheets of her and Ahren’s names in hearts made it all too obvious. It wasn’t just Ahren’s name though. A few pages later she was in love with all four members of Choosing Yesterday, a popular band, and just after that it was some actor. Anyone with any sort of clout would do, it seemed.
I decided to set the books on the floor by the doors to the garden. Whatever Osten had planned, there was no way it would be as distressing as her stumbling across them when she came inside, with no clue as to how they’d gotten there or who had seen them.
For someone who prided herself on being so close to the royal family, she really should have learned a lesson or two in discretion by now.
When I got to my room, Neena was at the ready, grabbing my blanket to place in the wash. I threw something on, not really in the mood to think about my outfit too much today. As I was about to fix my hair, I noticed some files on the table.
“Lady Brice dropped those off for you,” Neena said.
I stared at the folders. Though it was my first piece of actual work in a week, I couldn’t be bothered. “I’ll get to them later,” I promised, knowing that I probably wouldn’t. I’d maybe look at them tomorrow. Today was mine.
I pinned back my hair, double-checked my makeup, and went to look for Mom. I could use the company, and I felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t ask me to pick out furniture or food.
I found her alone in the Women’s Room. A plaque beside the door declared that the space was actually titled the Newsome Library, but I’d never heard anyone call it by that name except for Mom on occasion. It was the space where the women congregated, so the original label seemed more practical, I supposed.
I could tell Mom was in there before I even opened the door because I heard her playing the piano, and her sound was unmistakable. She loved to tell the story of how Dad made her pick out four brand-new pianos, each with various attributes, after they were married. They were placed all over the palace. One was in her suite, a second in Dad’s, one here, and another in a largely unused parlor on the fourth floor.
I was still jealous of how easy she made it look. I remembered her warning me that one day time would take the dexterity out of her hands, and she’d only be able to plunk away at one or two keys at a time. So far time had failed.
I tried to be quiet, but she heard me all the same.
“Hello, darling,” she called, pulling her fingers away from the keys. “Come sit with me.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I walked across the room, settling next to her on the bench.
“You didn’t. I was clearing my head, and I feel much better now.”
“Is something wrong?”
She smiled distractedly and rubbed her hand over my back. “No. Just the everyday wear and tear of the job.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, running my fingers along the keys, not actually making any sound.
“I keep thinking that I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve seen it all, where I’ve mastered everything about being queen. No sooner do I think it than everything changes. There are . . . Well, you have enough to worry about today. Let’s not bother with it.”
With some work she pasted a smile back onto her face, and while I wanted to know what was troubling her—because, in the end, all those troubles also fell on me—she was right. I simply couldn’t deal with it today.
It seemed she hardly could either.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes despite her efforts. “Entering the Selection and ending up queen?”
I was grateful she didn’t just immediately say yes or no but actually considered the question.
“I don’t regret marrying your father. I sometimes wonder about the life I would have had without the Selection, or if I had still come to the palace but lost. I think I would have been fine. Not unhappy exactly, but not aware of what else there could have been for me. But the path to him was a difficult one, mostly because I didn’t want to walk it.”
“At all?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t my idea to enter the Selection.”
My mouth fell open. She’d never told me that. “Whose was it?”
“That’s not important,” she answered quickly. “But I can tell you that I understand your reservations. I think the process will teach you a lot about yourself. I hope you’ll trust me on this.”
“It’d be a lot easier to trust you if I knew you were doing this for me and not to buy yourself some peace.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.
She took a deep breath. “I know you think this is selfish, but you’ll see. One day the welfare of the country will be on your shoulders, and you’ll be surprised at what you’d try in order to keep it all from crumbling. I never thought we’d have another Selection, but plans change when that much is demanded of you.”
“Plenty is demanded of me now,” I shot back.
