The Heir

“Of course!” Mom replied.

The chef smiled at her. “Naturally, we would like your approval for the final menu.”

I groaned internally. A true seven-course meal could take six hours from the first sip of a cocktail to the final bite of chocolate. How long would it take to sample several different options for each course?

About eight hours, it turned out, and I had a dreadful stomachache for the rest of the day, which made me less than enthusiastic when someone came asking about music selections for the evening of the first dinner.

The hallways were like crowded streets, and every corner of the palace was noisy with speedy preparations. I endured it as best I could until Dad stopped me in passing one day.

“We were thinking about making a special room for the Selected. What do you think about—”

“Enough!” I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t care. I have no idea what a boy would like in a recreational space, so I suggest you ask someone with some testosterone. And as for me, I’ll be in the garden.”

Dad could tell I was near a breaking point, and he let me pass without a fight. I was thankful for the momentary respite.

I lay on my stomach in my bikini on a blanket in the open stretch of grass that spread out just before the forest. I wished, as I had so many times before, that we had a pool. I was pretty good at getting my way, but Dad never budged on the pool issue. When the palace was mine, that was the first thing on the agenda.

I sketched dresses in my book, trying to relax. As the sun warmed me, the quick scratch of my pencil blended with the sound of rustling leaves, making a lovely, tranquil song. I mourned the loss of peace in my life. Three months, I recited. Three months, and then everything goes back to normal.

A piercing laugh polluted the stillness of the garden. “Josie,” I muttered to myself. Shading my eyes, I turned and saw her walking toward me. She was with one of her friends, an upper-class girl she’d chosen to associate with specifically because the company in the palace wasn’t enough for her.

I closed my book, hiding my designs, and turned onto my back simply to take in the sun.

“It will be a good experience for everyone,” I heard Josie remark to her friend. “I don’t get to interact with boys very often, so it’ll be nice to have an opportunity to talk to some. One day, when my wedding is arranged, I’d like to be able to carry on a conversation.”

I rolled my eyes. If I thought I’d have the slightest attachment to these boys, it would have bothered me that she thought they were here for her. Then again, Josie thought everything existed for her. And the idea that she was so important that her marriage would need to be arranged on her behalf was comical. She could marry anyone off the street and no one would care one way or the other.

“I hope I’ll be able to visit during the Selection,” her friend replied. “It’ll be so fun!”

“Of course, Shannon! I’ll make sure all my friends get to come often. It’ll be valuable for you as well.”

How kind of her to offer up my home and events as learning opportunities for her little buddies. I took a deep breath. I needed to focus on relaxing.

“Eadlyn!” Josie cried, spotting me.

I groaned, then raised a hand to acknowledge her, hoping the silence would convey my wish for privacy.

“How excited are you for the Selection?” she yelled, continuing over.

I wasn’t going to holler like a farmhand, so I said nothing. Eventually, Josie and her friend were standing above me, blocking the sun.

“Didn’t you hear me, Eadlyn? Aren’t you excited for the Selection?”

Josie never addressed me properly.

“Of course.”

“Me, too! I think it’ll be exciting to have all the company.”

“You won’t have any company,” I reminded her. “These boys are my guests.”

She tipped her head like I was stating the obvious. “I know! But it’ll still be nice to have more people around.”

“Josie, how old are you?”

“Fifteen,” she answered proudly.

“I thought so. If you really want to, I’m sure you could get out and meet people of your own accord now. You’re certainly old enough.”

She smiled. “I don’t think so. That’s not exactly appropriate.”

I didn’t want to get into this argument again. I was the one who couldn’t pick up and leave the palace without warning. Security sweeps, proper announcements, and protocol reviews were all necessary before I could even consider it.

Also, I constantly had to be aware of the company I kept. I couldn’t be seen with just anyone. An unflattering picture wasn’t simply taken; it was documented, stored, and resurrected whenever the newspapers needed to criticize me. I had to be relentlessly on my toes to avoid anything that could possibly tarnish my image, my family’s image, or the country at large.

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.