“Get to work.” He waved me toward the door, and I suspected he was actually more eager to get back to his letter than he was for me to come up with a plan.
I dashed from the room, heading to my own to fetch some paper. I needed to think.
As I rounded the corner, I ran smack into someone, falling backward onto the carpet.
“Ow!” I complained, looking up to see Kile Woodwork, Miss Marlee’s son.
Kile and the rest of the Woodworks had rooms on the same floor as our family, a singularly huge honor. Or irritation, depending on how one felt about the Woodworks.
“Do you mind?” I snapped.
“I wasn’t the one running,” he answered, picking up the books he’d dropped. “You ought to be looking where you’re going.”
“A gentleman would offer his hand right now,” I reminded him.
Kile’s hair flopped across his eyes as he looked over at me. He was in desperate need of a cut and a shave, and his shirt was too big for him. I didn’t know who I was more embarrassed for: him for looking so sloppy or my family for having to be seen with such a disaster.
What was especially irritating was that he wasn’t always so scruffy, and he didn’t have to be now. How hard would it be to run a brush through his hair?
“Eadlyn, you’ve never thought I was a gentleman.”
“True.” I pulled myself up without help and brushed off my robe.
For the last six months I had been spared Kile’s less-than-thrilling company. He’d gone to Fennley to enroll in some accelerated course, and his mother had been lamenting his absence ever since the day he left. I didn’t know what he was studying, and I didn’t particularly care. But he was back now, and his presence was another stressor on an ever-growing list.
“And what would make such a lady run like that in the first place?”
“Matters you are far too dim to comprehend.”
He laughed. “Right, because I’m such a simpleton. It’s a miracle I manage to bathe myself.”
I was about to ask if he did bathe, because he looked like he’d been running away from anything that resembled a bar of soap.
“I hope one of those books is a primer on etiquette. You seriously need a refresher.”
“You’re not queen yet, Eadlyn. Take it down a notch.” He walked away, and I was furious with myself for not getting the last word.
I pressed on. There were bigger problems in my life right now than the state of Kile’s manners. I couldn’t waste my time quibbling with people or being distracted by anything that couldn’t put the Selection to death.
CHAPTER 4
“I WANT TO BE CLEAR,” I said, sitting down in Dad’s office. “I have no desire to get married.”
He nodded. “I understand that you don’t want to get married today, but it was always something you’d have to do, Eadlyn. You’re obligated to continue the royal line.”
I hated it when he talked about my future like that, like sex and love and babies weren’t happy things but duties performed to keep the country running. It took every speck of joy out of the prospect.
Of all the things in my life, shouldn’t those be the real pleasures, the best parts?
I shook the worry away and focused on the task at hand.
“I understand. And I agree that it’s important,” I replied diplomatically. “But weren’t you ever worried when you went through your Selection that no one in the pool was right for you? Or that maybe they were there for the wrong reason?”
His lips hitched up in a smile. “Every waking moment, and half the time I slept.”
He’d told me a handful of vague stories about one girl who’d been so pliable he could hardly stand her and another who had tried to manipulate the process at every turn. I didn’t know many names or details, and that was fine with me. I had never liked to imagine Dad possibly falling in love with anyone but Mom.
“And don’t you think that as the first woman to fully control the crown, there should be . . . some standards set for who might rule beside me?”
He tilted his head. “Go on.”
“I’m sure there’s some sort of vetting process in place to make sure an actual psychopath doesn’t make his way into the palace, yes?”
“Of course.” He grinned as if this wasn’t a valid concern.
“But I don’t trust just anyone to do this job with me. So”—I sighed deeply—“I will agree to go through with this ridiculous stunt if you make me a few tiny promises.”
“It’s not a stunt. It’s had an excellent track record. But please, dear girl, tell me what you want.”
“First, I want the contestants to have the freedom to leave of their own free will. I won’t have someone feeling obligated to stay if they don’t care for me or the life they’d have to lead in the palace.”
“I fully agree to that,” he said forcefully. Seemed like I had touched a nerve.