The Heir (The Selection #4)

“Anyone else?” Gavril questioned, and I scanned the boys. Yes, there was one more.

“Most people have a hard time believing that I don’t know Sir Kile backward and forward because we’ve lived in the same place our whole lives, but it’s true. The Selection has allowed me to get to know him much better, and I’ve now learned that he’s a very promising architect. If we ever needed a second palace built, he’s the first person I’d call.”

There were some sweet sighs around the room at the idea of childhood friends finally becoming possible lovers.

“Although, I can confirm, he needs help in the hygiene department,” I added, sending the room into laughs again.

“It sounds like these are some truly amazing young men!” Gavril called, beginning another round of applause for them.

“Absolutely.”

“So, if you’re so impressed, I have to ask: has anyone got a special place in your heart just yet?”

I found myself fiddling with my hair. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, ho!”

I giggled, looking down. This wasn’t real . . . was it?

“Does it happen to be anyone you mentioned?”

I slapped his arm playfully. “Oh, my gosh, Gavril!”

He snickered, as did most of the room. I fanned myself with a hand and turned back to him.

“The truth is, it’s still difficult to talk about this so publicly, but I’m hoping to have more to say in the future.”

“That’s wonderful news, Your Highness. Let me join all of Illéa in wishing you luck as you look for your partner.”

“Thank you.” I nodded my head modestly and casually peeked over at Dad.

The expression on his face was one of disbelief, almost as if he was optimistic. It was bittersweet for me, to feel so unsure about the whole thing but to see that even the slightest glimmer of possibility took so much worry out of his eyes.

For now, that would be enough.





CHAPTER 27


“IT’S BAD.”

I lay on Ahren’s bed, curled in a ball while he sat upright, telling me everything Mom and Dad didn’t want to.

“Just say it.”

He swallowed. “It always seems to start in the poorer provinces. They’re not rebelling, not like when Mom and Dad were kids. . . . It’s more like they’re uprising.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“They’re rallying to end the monarchy. No one is getting what they want out of the caste dissolution, and they think we don’t care.”

“Don’t care?” I asked, astonished. “Dad’s running himself ragged trying to fix it. I’m dating strangers for them!”

“I know. And I have no idea where that performance tonight came from, but that was spectacular.” I made a smart face, acknowledging the praise, but I was starting to question just how much of tonight was planned and how much was genuine. “But even then, what are we supposed to do? Perform forever?”

“Ha!” I scoffed. “As if you’d ever be asked to perform. It would always be me, and I can’t. I feel like I’m suffocating as it is.”

“We could all step down,” he suggested. “But then what would happen? Who would take over? And if we don’t step down, will they run us out?”

“Do you think they’d do that?” I breathed.

He stared into the distance. “I don’t know, Eady. People have done far worse things when they’re hungry or tired or unwaveringly poor.”

“But we can’t feed everyone. We can’t make everyone earn the same amount of money. What do they want from us?”

“Nothing,” he said honestly. “They just want more for themselves. I can’t say I blame them, but the people are confused. They think their lives are in our hands, but they’re not.”

“They’re in their own.”

“Exactly.”

We sat in silence for a long time, considering what this meant for us. Truthfully, though, I knew it would hit me harder than anyone else if the people followed through on this. I didn’t know how things like this happened, but governments changed. Kingdoms rose and fell; entire ideologies took over, shoving others to the side. Could I be brushed into the gutter?

I shivered, trying to imagine a life like that.

“They already threw food at me,” I murmured.

“What?”

“I’ve been so stupid,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’ve grown up believing that I was adored . . . but the people don’t love me. Once Mom and Dad step down, I can’t imagine there would be anything preventing the country from getting rid of me.”

It was a tangible thing, like I was being held aloft by this idea, and now that I knew it was a lie, my body felt heavier.

Ahren’s face grew worried. I waited for him to contradict me, but he couldn’t. “You can make them love you, Eadlyn.”

“I’m not as charming as you or as clever as Kaden or as adorably rambunctious as Osten. There’s nothing that special about me.”

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