I looked over my shoulder at them, and while some, like Fox and Kile, seemed ecstatic, Hale was frowning. So the other night wasn’t just a fluke. He was having genuine doubts. What had happened? How had I lost him?
“My upcoming coronation will be one of the biggest celebrations the palace has ever seen. Please go to your Provincial Services Office for information, as one family from each province will be invited to the palace, all expenses paid, to enjoy the festivities.” That had been my idea, one I felt sure Marid would appreciate. “And, of course, we appreciate your support of our family through this transitional period. We thank you, Illéa. Good night!”
I went over to Mom and Dad the second the cameras went down. “Can you believe that?”
“It went so well!” Mom said. “The boys clapping, starting it all themselves. It was so organic, and I know that had to encourage people at home.”
“It’s a good sign,” Dad agreed. “And I think the element of your chosen husband immediately becoming a prince consort definitely adds something to this Selection.”
“As if it wasn’t crazy enough.” I sighed and smiled, feeling too happy to care that this was all complete madness.
Dad kissed my forehead. “You were wonderful. Now, do you need some rest?” he asked, turning to Mom.
“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes as they headed off the stage.
“Are you sure? We could have dinner brought up to our room.”
“So help me, if you do that, I will throw it at you.”
I laughed. It was making more and more sense that they fought through their whole Selection process.
Now I just needed to get through mine.
I RAN DOWN TO BREAKFAST the next morning, gripping the paper in my hand. I buzzed past the guards and the Elite, plunking it down in front of Mom and Dad.
“Look,” I urged, pointing to the headline.
What Do They Know That We Don’t? it read, the photo beneath it a shot of the boys all standing and cheering on the Report.
Dad picked up the paper, popped on his glasses, and read the article aloud, though not projecting his voice for the room to hear.
“‘When you think of Princess Eadlyn Schreave, the first words that come to mind might not be congenial, enthusiastic, or beloved. She certainly has class and beauty, and while no one could argue her intellect, one might have cause to question other traits, such as her devotion to her people. So we have to ask, what is it that these young men—indeed, these Sons of Illéa—know about her that we have missed?’”
Mom looked up at me, smiling.
“‘When the five remaining gentlemen in the Selection instantly rose to their feet and applauded at the announcement of the princess’s ascent, I will admit, that was not this reporter’s initial reaction. I was worried. She’s young. She’s distant. She’s not in touch with her people.
“‘But if these boys, all but one of them strangers to her up until recently, immediately decide to celebrate, then there must be more to our upcoming queen than a pretty face. Recently the Elite spoke of her being considerate and engaging. Are these qualities she’s had all along that merely haven’t been easy to translate on screen? Is she a genuine leader, prepared to sacrifice for her people?
“‘The nature of her rise to the crown would suggest the answer is yes. The king and queen are still young. They are still physically and mentally able to continue their reign. To see the princess take over early so that they can enjoy their time together as a married couple shows not only her love for her family, but her commitment to her work.’”
I could see Mom’s eyes welling with tears now.
“‘Only time will tell if these assumptions prove true, but I can say that my faith in the crown has been—at least temporarily—restored.’”
“Oh, honey,” Mom exclaimed.
Dad passed the newspaper back to me. “Eady, this is great.”
“It’s the most encouraging thing to happen publicly for a long time,” I agreed with a contented sigh. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high, but it makes going to work today that much easier.”
“I hope you’re planning to take it easy this morning.” Mom gave me a pointed look. “I don’t want you getting burned out before you even start.”
“I’d tell you I have a simple morning planned, but it’d be a lie,” I admitted. “I’m off to a Finnish lesson right now. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to count in Finnish?”
Dad sipped his coffee. “I’ve listened to it for years. I applaud you for trying.”
“Henri’s very sweet,” Mom commented. “Not the direction I was expecting you to go in, but he’ll certainly make you smile.”
“Pfft.” Dad turned to her. “What do you know about picking husbands? Last time you tried that, you got stuck with me.”
She smiled and hit his arm.
“You two are so gross, you ruin everything.” I spun and headed toward the door.
“Have a great day, honey,” Mom called after me, and I raised a hand in acknowledgment before pausing by Henri.
“Umm. L?hte??”