a queen, or the eyes of your mother, but yours. Even if the girl you choose is of a very low caste, even if others think she has no value, I will always listen to your reasons for wanting her. And I will do my best to support your choice.”
After a pause, I understood. “Did Father not have that? Did you not?”
She pulled herself up. “Every girl will come with pros and cons. Some people will choose to focus on the worst in some of your options and the best in others, and it will make no sense to you why they seem so narrow minded. But I’m here for you, whatever your choice.”
“You always have been.”
“True,” she said, taking my arm. “And I know I’m about to play second fiddle to another woman, as I should. But my love for you will never change, Maxon.”
“Nor mine for you.” I hoped she could hear the sincerity in my voice. I couldn’t imagine a circumstance that would dim my absolute adoration of her.
“I know.” With a little nudge, she pushed us back to the party.
As we entered the room to smiles and applause, I considered my mother’s words. She was, beyond anyone I knew, incredibly generous. It was a trait I endeavored to adopt myself. So if this was her gift, it must be more necessary than I could understand at the present. My mother never gave a gift thoughtlessly.
PEOPLE LINGERED MUCH LATER THAN I thought was appropriate. That was another sacrifice that came with the privilege, I guessed: no one wanted a palace party to end. Not even when the palace wanted it to.
I’d placed the very drunk dignitary from the German Federation into the care of a guard, thanked all the royal advisors for their gifts, and kissed the hand of nearly every lady who walked through the palace doors. In my eyes, my duty here was done, and I just wanted to spend a few hours in peace. But as I went to escape the lingering partygoers, I was happily stopped by a pair of dark blue eyes.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Daphne said, her tone playful and the lilt of her accent tickling my ears. There was always something musical about the way she spoke.
“Not at all. It was bit more crowded than I thought it would be.” I looked back at the handful of people still intent on seeing the sun rise through the palace windows.
“Your father, he enjoys making a spectacle.”
I laughed. Daphne seemed to understand so many things that I’d never said out loud. Sometimes that made me nervous. Just how much about me could she see without me knowing? “He outdid himself, I think.”
She shrugged. “Only until next time.”
We stood there in silence, though I sensed she wanted to say more. Biting her lip, she whispered to me. “Could I speak to you in private?”
I nodded, giving her my arm and escorting her to one of the parlors down the hall. She was quiet, saving her words until I shut the doors behind us. Though we often talked in private, the way she was acting made me uneasy.
“You didn’t dance with me,” she said, sounding hurt.
“I didn’t dance at all.” Father insisted upon classical musicians this time. While the Fives were very talented, the music they played lent themselves to slower dances. Maybe, if I had wanted to dance, I would have chosen to dance with her. It just felt wrong with everyone asking me questions about my future mystery wife.
She let out a breathy sigh and paced the room. “I’m supposed to go on this date when I get home,” she said. “Frederick—that’s his name. I’ve seen him before, of course. He’s an excellent rider, and very handsome, too. He’s four years older than me, but I think that’s one of the reasons Papa likes him.”
She looked over her shoulder at me, a little smile on her face.
I gave her a sarcastic grin in return. “And where would we be without our fathers’ approval?”
She giggled. “Lost, of course. We’d have no idea how to live.”
I laughed back, grateful for someone to joke about it with. It was the only way to deal with it sometimes.
“But yes, Papa approves. Still, I wonder …” She dropped her eyes to the floor, suddenly shy.
“You wonder what?”
She stood there a moment, her gaze still focused on the carpet. Finally she focused those deep blue eyes on me. “Do you approve?”
“Of what?”
“Frederick.”
I laughed. “I can’t really say, can I? I’ve never met him.”
“No,” she said, her voice dropping. “Not about the person, but the idea. Do you approve of me dating this man? Possibly marrying him?”
Her face was stone, covering something I didn’t understand. I gave a bewildered shrug. “It’s not my place to approve. It’s hardly even yours,” I added, feeling a bit sad for the both of us.
Daphne twisted her hands together, like she was maybe nervous or hurting. What was happening here?
“So it doesn’t bother you at all, then? Because if it’s not Frederick, it’ll be Antoine. And if it’s not Antoine, it’ll be Garron. There’s a string of men waiting for me, none of them half the friend to me that you are. But, eventually, I’ll have to take one as a husband, and you don’t care?”
That was gloomy indeed. We scarcely saw each other more than three times in a year. And I might say she was my closest friend, too. How pathetic were we?
I swallowed, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m sure it will all work out.”
With no warning whatsoever, tears began streaming down Daphne’s face. I looked around the room, trying to find an explanation or solution, feeling more and more uncomfortable every moment.
“Please tell me you’re not going to follow through with this, Maxon. You can’t,” she pleaded.
“What are you talking about?” I asked desperately.
“The Selection! Please, don’t marry some stranger. Don’t make me marry some stranger.”
“I have to. That’s how it works for princes of Illéa. We marry commoners.”
Daphne rushed forward, grabbing my hands. “But I love you. I always have. Please don’t marry some other girl without at least asking your father if I could be a choice.”
Loved me? Always?
I choked over words, trying to find the right place to start. “Daphne, how … I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll ask your father,” she pleaded, wiping away her tears hopefully. “Postpone the Selection long enough for us to at least see if it’s worth
