“How is Henri doing? With the English lessons?”
He shrugged and tucked his hands behind his back. “Good. Not great. What I told you before is still very true; it would be a long time before you could communicate on your own. But he cares so much, he’s been trying harder than ever.” He nodded to himself as if assessing their work in his head. “Forgive me—I should have asked. How are your parents? I heard your mother is awake and recovering.”
“She is, thank you. She was supposed to move back to her room today, but there was something funny about her oxygen levels so they kept her in the hospital wing one more night for good measure. And Dad is still sleeping in a cot by her bed.”
Erik grinned. “It makes the idea of ‘in sickness and in health’ much more real to see it play out in front of you.”
I nodded. “Honestly, sometimes it’s intimidating to watch them. Finding anything close to what they have seems impossible.”
He smirked. “There’s no way to know everything about someone else’s relationship, even your parents’. Sometimes especially your parents’,” he added, as if he’d thought about this before, perhaps about his own family. “I guarantee you—he’s given a terrible Christmas present at least once and has earned himself a day of silence for it.”
“Highly unlikely.”
Erik was unfazed. “You have to embrace the idea of imperfection, even in the thing that is most perfect for you. Your brother whisked away a girl and got married in a whirlwind and could be discovering right now that she snores so loudly, he can’t even sleep.”
I covered my mouth, but not fast enough to smother the laugh that escaped. Something about the image of poor Ahren with pillows slammed over his ears really got me.
“It’s very possible,” he added, looking quite pleased to have made me smile.
“You’ve ruined my image of Camille! How am I supposed to keep a straight face the next time I see her?”
“Don’t,” he said simply. “Just laugh. Your impression of everyone is probably wrong in some way.”
Shaking my head, I sighed. “I’m sure you’re right. Which makes everything I do that much harder.”
“Like the Selection?”
“There are moments when a room full of politicians seems easier to manage than six boys. For everything I’ve learned so far, there must be a dozen things I’ve missed.”
“Relying heavily on gut instincts then?”
“Very heavily.”
“Well, they’ve been spot-on about Henri. He’s as nice as he seems. You must have already known that, though, to keep him in the final pool.” I noticed something off about his tone as he spoke, like this was a disappointing thing to admit.
I clasped my hands together, only just then realizing that we’d moved well past the kitchen. I supposed I could always go back for coffee if I still wanted a cup.
“This whole situation has been a hard one to navigate. I wasn’t supposed to have a Selection. In the past, princesses were married off for international relations, but my parents promised they’d never do that to me. So to find myself with a roomful of boys and be expected to choose a lifelong partner from them … it’s scary. All I have to go on are a handful of impressions, and a hope that no one is deceiving me.”
I risked a glance at him, and he was attentive, his expression downcast. “That sounds incredibly frightening,” he said slowly. “I’m surprised it’s worked so well in the past. I don’t want to sound rude, but it does seem a bit unfair.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I said when the idea was presented to me. But they insisted that I try, so …”
“So … this wasn’t your idea?”
I froze.
“Did you even want it to happen?”
There’s a chill that runs down your back when you realize you’ve been caught in a lie. And it was scary, because this had already been hinted at in the papers, guessed at by plenty of people.
“Erik, this needs to stay between us,” I said quietly, the words coming out more like a request than a command. “I admit, in the beginning, I wanted nothing to do with the Selection. But now …”
“Now you’re in love?” he asked, his tone both curious and melancholy.
I laughed once. “I’m a lot of things. Infatuated, frightened, desperate, hopeful. It’d be nice to add ‘in love’ to the list.” I thought of Kile and our conversation in the garden. Love was still too big a word for that, and none of what I’d said to Kile felt appropriate to share with Erik. “Sometimes I think I’m close, but right now, the Selection is something I need to finish. For a lot of reasons. A lot of people, too.”
“I certainly hope you’re one of them.”
“I am,” I promised. “Just maybe not in the way people would think.”
He didn’t answer. He merely walked along, taking in my words.