I wake up the next morning with a woodpecker trapped in my head. It's pecking little holes all over my skull as punishment for my drinking last night. I chug a water, take two aspirin, and wipe my schedule clear. I've decided to go to this gym I've heard so much about. I'm sure I could have a personal trainer meet me in my room, or a yoga instructor, or a whatever-I-want. But I want what Jocelyn from the infirmary described.

It's early, and few people are in the gym. It gives me a chance to scan the room without looking too much like a gawker.

The walls are mirrors, and the equipment is well spaced and pristine looking. A techno beat is playing at a reasonable level through the loudspeakers. I head toward the right corner, where there are a fleet of treadmills.

I hop onto one and see that it has a TV built into its control panel. Sweet. I put on the morning news with closed captioning and make a note to bring my earbuds next time. I set the pace to a moderate speed and check the clock. I could make this my morning routine, instead of checking email for news I could get it here while working out. I could be the first sorta buff queen.

Five minutes later, I have learned that the worst thing for hangover is exercise. Or maybe it's me. My legs are acting like I've never used them before, my knees wonking out and my thighs quivering. Five minutes. I'm not thinking the future queen will be that buff.

Heath has been my shadow since I woke up and accused him of standing there all night. He didn't reply, but by his face I could tell he was judging me for drinking too much. I try not to meet his eye when I stop the machine. After wiping the treadmill down, I slink out of the gym. Heath stands outside my room where I finally get some privacy to shower and dress.

I miss Neena, even though I sting at the idea that our time together was a ploy. That whole six months that she gave me hand massages and hung my designer clothes up—was she silently hating me? What does it mean that I never suspected her?

I pull on jeans again, and a cashmere hoodie that Lucy gave to me two Christmases ago. It's so soft and comfy, I'm surprised I never even tried it on before.

I blow off my meetings without even checking my email to find out what they are about. Instead, I wander out to the gardens.

I try to clear my mind and sketch. My one conversation with Jocelyn revealed that I have no real exercise in my life and no concrete ways to de-stress. This is my one thing, my drawing. I like to design clothing best, but I also like to gather inspiration from my surroundings. No wonder I'm not too energetic after dry meetings in bland work rooms with buttoned up advisors.

In my sketch, I try to capture how the fountain's shadow falls on the row of rhododendrons, almost making the two forms meld into a new thing. I work for a long time on it.

I'm embarrassed about last night. But I don't regret the feeling of Kile on my lips and against my body, the way he touched me so reverentially yet with passion. What's between us isn't about me being the future queen. He's one of the few who don't care about that.

Rubbing my forehead, I admit to myself that he would be miserable as prince consort. Just as he is miserable as a royal family guest. He hates living in the castle. He's here only til he is able to leave, and Marlee holds the strings to that decision. Or does she...

I made him a promise. I said I'd talk her into letting him leave if he helped me with that first kiss. I've put him off long enough, because I like him. I feel safe with him. But that's not right. He should be here because he wants to be, not out of some weird guilt or fear of crushing his mom.

If I truly liked Kile—and I think I more than like him—then I would let him go. I'd help him to be free to pursue his true love: his architecture and design.

Turning to a new page in my sketch book, I draw Kile from memory, making sure to give him shaggy hair in need of a cut, clothes askew, that lighthearted smile, and the intense eyes. I capture the way he stares at a person like they are important, like they matter to him. It conveys pride and respect. His esteem is not easy to earn but it's priceless. Much like my royal title.

My hand falls away from the page. I know what I have to do. I have to let the Selection boys go right when I realize they would not be a good match. Henri and Erik, I am keeping them here for myself. I like them, but I know I will not marry Henri. It would be shortchanging him. He needs a wife who he can communicate with, without Eikko standing there. And Eikko deserves to live his own life out of Henri's shadow. I can do that. I can give them freedom and new hope for real love.

Morning turns to afternoon and I finally concede my day of hooky. I thank the guards who have stood there while I daydreamed. They look stunned at my gratitude which makes me feel awful. I usually don't acknowledge them, much less thank them.

They escort me inside where Heath approaches me with more caution than usual.

"Your Highness, the King is prepared for your address to the Nation," he says.

"I rescheduled it yesterday," I grumble. "I have two more days." I need more time to decide the eliminations.

"Yes, but he feels it is imperative to be consistent with our people in this time of unrest. We need to show a strong front, and the Selection has not had an update in days."

"He said that?" I bite out, letting my normally well-hidden emotions loose.

Heath's straight face jerks back a notch. It's almost a flinch.

"Yes, I'm just relaying the message, Your Highness." Heath resumes his perfect posture, arms folded across his chest, eyes averted over my shoulder.

"Of course," I reply, sweeping past him in a red haze of frustration. "We'll see about that."

I storm into the media room and am dismayed to find the Selection boys on the risers, an audience in attendance, and my father already on his throne, gazing at me placidly. I know that look. He's irritated with me for being late. Well, I usually check my email constantly, and would have seen his ultimate decision to keep the taping if I hadn't been lost in my head for hours outside.

I look down. My hoodie. My jeans. Worst maybe are my canvas sneakers. My hand flies to my hair, a mess from scratching the pencil through it. My cheeks must be red from the sun peeking through the clouds and I just bet I have shadows under my eyes from my late night.

"Eadlyn, we've been waiting," Dad says imperiously.

I take a step backwards, and bump into Heath, who moves aside while clearing his throat. Or else he's laughing at my cowardice.

"I don't think—" I try to beg off.

"No matter," my father says sternly. "Let hair and make-up do their job for once. We tape in ten. We're all waiting for you, Your Highness."

Oh, man. He calls me that when he's about to give me a long lecture.

I let the stylist have her way with me. She hands me a navy blue jersey sheath dress, a chunky tangerine necklace, matching flats, and turquoise bangles. I usually go for business-chic-with-an-edge but today this is totally prep-girl-goes-to-the-mall. Oh well, better than a hoodie on the future queen.

I mentally review who to eliminate. I want to get the numbers down, but I have to be careful how I let them go. I don't want to reduce them to tears. Not again.

My hair is a frizzy mess so I let it be, opting for gold headband. When I reappear it is not only my dad doing a double take. I look like a department store mannequin of myself.

I try to muster a tranquil smile as the past week is summed up. Clips are shown of the bonfire, the picnic, and the rowing date. I'm so glad I did that because it is animated and colorful, better than any of the posed pics we broadcasted before.

When it's my turn to describe how things are going, I realize it's been hours since I ate. My drinking last night has taken its toll. My throat feels coated with cobwebs and I am none too sure on my feet. I dart my eyes over the boys, all standing as I approach the couch in front of them. It's strategically placed so that the audience can see their reactions to whatever I say. I find Kile in the crowd and see that his glasses are askew and his smile is wide and goofy. I want to wave but I smile politely to them all and sit down.

As delicately as I can, I eliminate Apsel, Gunner, Julian, Henri, and Fox.

Fox is so ill he cannot be in the Selection fairly because I cannot get to know him in the two weeks ahead, as he will be in quarantine. He is receiving excellent care, something he might not be able to afford otherwise. He gets to stay for treatment but he's out of the running. He will be still be compensated. I make a mental note to visit him, Trevor, Jocelyn, and the rest soon.

I explain the difference in Gunnar and my values, while trying to be respectful. I make sure to show pride in Apsel's teaching and Julian's farming professions. I express deference to their life goals as important even if not compatible with mine. Dad nods and stays on the other side of the room. Each boy is gracious about being eliminated. I am so relieved.

I try to end on a hopeful note by asking Calvin on a movie date and Alex for a dessert date. They agree with grins. The audience ooohs and ahhhs and we end on happy applause.

When the taping is done, many of the remaining boys start toward me. I make sure I walk to the quarters with Apsel and Julian while making small chat. I want to ensure that they are not taking this too personally. Gunnar is sulky but at least he didn't show it on TV. Henri and I share a long hug, and I pass contact info to Eikko for him to inquire about translation and interpreter jobs at the castle, if he ever wants a change of pace.

He tries to refuse the small piece of paper. "This is too generous. I have been privileged just to get to know you."

"I owe you my sanity, this has been such a stressful time for me. I appreciate all you did, and I consider you a true friend. I need more of those."

He nods solemnly. "I hold your friendship as a precious gem. I treasure you."

I smile and kiss his cheek. Henri looks on like a proud parent and claps both of our backs before leading us to the kitchen. Erik explains that Henri wants to make farewell dumplings.

It's a really sweet way to end the elimination process. The other boys join us in the kitchen. We are all a bit tearful at our last goodbye. I compliment the delectable morsels one more time and hug Henri again.

I excuse myself so I don't drag it out.

The staff will take care of the rest of their departure details.

I slip through the staff staircase and rush down to the basement. Once I stumble out of the heavy stone door into the corridor, I press my back against the cool stone wall and let the sound of the laundry machines relax the kinks in my neck. Finally, I start breathing more easily.

When Heath appears out of the shadows I yelp and bonk my head back against the wall.

"Just tell me where you're going and I wouldn't have to startle you when I finally find you," he says wearily.

"And take all the fun out of it?" I say before thinking, and then I rush to the staff sewing room. I'm not exactly scared of the big expressionless man, but I don't look forward to his record setting frowns either.

Before opening the door to the sewing room, I spin around and see he is right there, a foot behind me.

We face each other.

"Where are you from?" I ask.

"Zuni, Your Highness."

"Is everyone so large and stealthy from Zuni?"

He cocks his head. "No, I don't believe so."

"You're just lucky, huh?"

His brows knit. "I guess so, Your Highness."

"Did you ever want to do anything other than be a guard?"

I watch him swallow. Then he says, "Never thought about it."

"Hmm, let me know if you do," I say. "I know what it's like to get boxed into a profession because of what you were born like."

I turn and go into the room.

The rest of the day ticks by as I sketch near the stone fireplace. The fire's heat, along with the whir of the sewing machines, makes me sleepy. And this room makes me miss Neena, which confuses me. I try to lose myself in the drawing, my go to method to clear my mind. I design a dress for Ahren's formal reception that will be held upon his first visit home to celebrate his marriage. My twin. Married. Unbelievable.

All around me castle seamstresses are hemming uniforms, making curtains etc. They don't speak to me and I am grateful for that. I need the quiet but I don't want to be alone. They give me space and don't ask questions.

I think about the Selection, my mom, Kile, and Ahren. I rarely have time to spend on reflection. It feels good for my soul. It occurs to me that the best times I've had in my whole life have all happened recently.

When I finally return to the hustle and bustle of the main floor of the castle, I force myself to check online for how the public is reacting to my brief address.

It's a shock. They pick apart my not perfect makeup and put down my simple dress. I went for simple but now they are saying that I am simple. As if all the elaborate outfits I've designed and worn with grace my whole life have been forgotten in one swoop. It's true you are as loved as your last review. Wait, maybe that is not a real saying.

I wish Ahren were here. I would normally run to him for reassurance. Instead, I shove the papers aside and shut all my tabs and then ask Heath to help me find Osten. After conferring with his earpiece, he leads me to Osten, who is carrying a bucket of water across the great hall. I peer into the bucket at what looks suspiciously like leeches. Osten manages to tuck it into a closet of some sort after he accepts my challenge for a game of chess.

He's good but I beat him.

Cupping his chin in his palm, he looks over the chess board at me with wide eyes.

"You're smarter than Ahren. I beat him every time."

"Nah, just meaner," I wink.

"No, not meaner. You didn't fall for any of my tricks."

I think about Neena. I sure fell for hers.

"Want to call him? I try to every day."

"Who? Ahren?"

"Yeah. He misses us. You, too."

"Why doesn't he call me?" I ask

"Because you're mad at him."

"No, I'm not."

"He left you."

It hits me like an electric charge. He's right. I am mad at Ahren. My greatest fear was losing him and when he realized how deep it went, he made it come true—he left.

"Maybe tomorrow," he says. "Scuse me, I have work to get to," and then he actually winks at me and goes to where he stashed the bucket.

"I didn't see anything!" I call after him. When I spin to leave, I think I catch the remnants of a smile on Heath's stoic face. Nah, had to have been a trick of the light.

"I guess I should see my father."

Heath escorts me to the offices but I find that my father is not in the castle. He is touring a local library and reading for story time.

"Is he well-guarded?" I ask Heath.

"Of course. He thought this was a good idea. Leger is with him."

Hmm, interesting. Dad rarely leaves the castle grounds. True, the school he went to is close, mostly staff and merchant children.

I check my email and work for a few hours.

An email from Dad reads:

'Good work with the broadcast, Eadlyn. We got word that there was an impromptu gathering of dissenters and we wanted to counter with our own gathering. You kept it light, respectful, and those pictures of the bonfire were amazing. Did you really have fun? I haven't seen you laugh like that in years. Let's talk later. Check with Kadan if you have any issues. Nice work, Dad.'

I thought he was mad at me.

I find Kadan reading in a window seat. He has a thick stack of papers next to him, a tablet, and a phone.

When he looks up, I notice his glasses are filmed and his shirt is buttoned wrong.

"You have to rest. I can tell you're working too hard."

"Someone has to," he snarks.

"Not you, okay?" I sigh. I'm a sister before a queen. "Come on," I lead him to his room, holding his hand like a younger child. He lets me, and that's how I know he is exhausted.

"I know we can come up with a form of governing that is led by the people while still maintain our monarchy. It's entirely reasonable," Kadan rambles.

"Whoa, buddy. Those aren't bedtime thoughts."

He groans. "Don't call me buddy, Eadlyn. I hate that."

"Sorry," I mutter, swatting him on the shoulder.

"Two restaurants burned down last night," he sounds upset. "Protestors from the outskirts were insulted that people actually eat out when they can't afford rice and potatoes."

I frown. I barely skimmed that report.

"We need more jobs, a better pay base, medical care for all, but we can't balance that with enforcing the peace without becoming a socialist nation."

"Kadan!" I shake him gently. "Enough. Bedtime. I played chess with Osten earlier. I won."

"He stinks."

"Not really."

"Ahren's worse."

"Well, yeah. You'll have to play me tonight."

"You should have a date night, Eady. The Selection is the only thread holding this whole thing together."

"No it isn't." I swat him lightly on the arm.

"It is. It's the only thing people like about you."

Wow, that's painful. "What, seeing me mess up?"

"Maybe, but seeing you try to find love is a universal paradox. To be loved you have to love, be capable of putting another first, to hold the emotion higher than yourself."

"Whatever, Kadan." I take his glasses off and polish them with the kit he keeps near his bed. His room is an organized ode to intelligence. Books, print outs, models, globes, maps, flow charts, and a framed periodic table set the tone.

"You're on the right track," he says. "I think."

I huff out a breath. There is nothing like your little brother granting you his hesitant approval.

"You may be a genius but you still need rest," I say, tucking him in. He lets me. I wish someone had done this for me when I was his age, when I would study reports and budgets and history until the wee hours, feeling the pressure to know everything and be ready to lead when it's time. But he doesn't have that external pressure, he seems to have it internally. He seems to enjoy the responsibility.

He's out cold by the time I finish with his glasses. He looks so much like Osten when he's asleep. And so much like Dad when he's awake.

I tiptoe out and leave instructions for him not to be disturbed.

Heath and two guards follow me to my new room where I get ready. Kadan is right. I have a commitment to these boys. I might be learning to hate the Selection, but I agreed to do it and I dragged all these boys here. I have to finish what I start. This is my best chance to find a prince consort.

More dates. I'm determined to make this work. I'll find a husband. Soon.

Tonight I have decided to reclaim the movie theatre, forge a good memory over the old bad one. Then I'll join Alex for a make your own sundae party afterwards.

I stay in my jeans and hoodie, but I twist bits of my unruly hair from each side back into a clip with the rest down around my shoulders. I decide not to fuss over make-up much. It was Neena who was good at that. I settle for a shimmery lip and a dark lash, diamond stud earrings. I check the mirror, and am surprised to find that I miss seeing the tiara on my head. It was weird that I wore them every day, but it was a habit I was known for. The invasion took that choice away from me.

I try to shake it off and focus on the evening ahead. It's important that I give everyone a fair chance, even if I know in my heart who I want.

With time to spare, I work on a sketch of a dress that would look good on Jocelyn. I imagine she has trouble finding feminine clothes since her build is so substantial.

A knock sounds at my door.

"May I come in honey?" Mom says from my doorway.

"Mom!" I bounce off my bed and run into her arms. I slow and hug her more gently as I remember her condition.

"I'm so glad you found a suitable room. Osten is over the moon about being so close to you. You've had some fun with him I hear?"

"He's good with the group of boys. It helps me relax having him with me," I murmur into her hair. It's a slightly darker shade than mine, but we both have threads of gold and deeper auburn. Hers shimmers in the light like it is alive.

"I like your hair down," I say. Mom never wears it down. She's in a more casual pantsuit than usual.

She smiles, and pats my shoulder, "Thank you, dear. I'm resting up. No public appearances or functions to hostess." She gives me a rueful frown. "I'm feeling cooped up. Speaking of which...is this room really for you? It is intended to be for staff, like a nanny. I was concerned when I heard you were here and I assumed it was temporary. But your old room is not being restored."

"I'll stay here for now," I look around. "It's fine."

Mom nods at the closet, "The closet is tiny, not fit for a future queen. You do realize that your old maid used to rotate your clothes seasonally to accommodate your large wardrobe. And that's with your old closet which is the size of this whole room."

"I'm good. I just settled in."

I have taped sketches up and swaths of fabric and some pictures of me from the newspapers with the boys of the Selection. It's a lot more cozy than my old one.

With a furrowed brow, Mom sits next to me on the bed and pats my thigh.

"I came in to chat and help you look over these recommendations for a new maid," she hands me a folder that I immediately set aside.

"I'm not ready to trust anyone."

She rubs my back. "Eadlyn, you need the help. Your wardrobe...the Selection...the speeches. You need someone to help you get ready for your daily appearances."

"I thought you'd understand. You only have a maid for formal events." I blink at her, hoping she'll let this slide. I've made so many compromises, I can't be pushed into this as well.

Mom smooths her hand over my hair and lets it rest against my jaw. "I'm so sorry about your tiaras, honey. I'm giving you mine," she says, with a soft smile. "They'll transport the safe tonight. It's so heavy they need the halls clear. Just let them know where to put it. I'll help you reset the combination tomorrow morning." Her eyes glisten with happiness. Her palm smooths over my hair again, and then she holds my hand. "Then you'll be back to your old self, Eadlyn. A crown on your head and a job to be done. How is the Selection going for you?"

I imagine her tiaras are worth...an unimaginable sum. Hence the safe. I should have had a safe. Except I wore mine all the time, and Mom only pulls hers out for the most esteemed guests. She usually takes hers off as soon as she can, passing it to Leger to put back in the safe.

"Mom, I don't want your tiaras," I say. I'm surprised because I mean it.

"I know how much yours meant to you, Eadlyn. You earned them. You wore one every day, the lightweight gold one, the gemstone tall one for the balls, the blunt silver one, you delighted in them." She tilts her head and stares at me with curious eyes.

It's sad that she is right. I wore one every day. I loved them like people.

I sigh. Mom wraps her arm around me.

"We can have more made just for you."

I realize she thinks I'm mourning the tiaras.

"And is it that your old clothes might have been touched by the rebels?"

I frown, not catching her meaning.

"You've been dressed out of character for days now. Since the attack."

"Oh," I falter. "I've just been busy."

Mom nods, and brushes back a strand of hair from my shoulder.

"You have a date tonight?"

"Yes, two actually."

"Excellent. Need any advice? I'm here for you."

I hesitate for one last, selfish moment. Then I do what I've been putting off.

"Mom, before the Selection started, you said I only think about myself."

Her mouth opens into a small oval. I shoot her a serious look. I have a great memory and there is no way she's denying that she said that. It's like the worst thing my mom has ever said to me. I'll remember it forever. It's part of what pushed me to agree to the Selection.

"I...I...did say that, Eady, honey, I was trying to help you see why we thought this would be a good idea for you, to help you grow, see outside of yourself." Mom swallows loudly and I worry I overtaxed her. But I'm in this deep, I might as well go for it. After all, I have a promise to keep.

"Mom, you were right."

"I was?" she widens her eyes. Have I ever admitted this? I am the stubborn child, the first born. I tend to be right.

I nod. "Getting to know these boys of the Selection has been good for me. I care about them even though I've only known them a short while. I feel like we're all in this together."

Mom nods. "I remember feeling that with the girls when we were all trying to impress Maxon. After a bit, we just tried to survive, to hold each other up, and we're still close. It's like a permanent bonding."

"Marlee is a great friend to you."

"I love her like a sister."

"Then you need to be as honest with her as you were with me. I've gotten to know Kile, and I've seen his struggle to please his mom and stay here. But it's wrong. He needs to be free. Marlee is your friend and she chooses to stay but Kile is a man and he wants to make his own life, outside of our royal shadow."

Mom's face draws in worry but then she gets a maternal glint in her sharp eyes. "Kile and you..."

"We're friends. He's been a rock to me throughout this Selection."

"He's a kind boy, a smart one, too."

You don't have to tell me that, I want to say. But instead I say, "Will you talk to Marlee? Encourage her to relent and allow Kile to leave? She'd do it for you, Mom. That trip he went on to Fennley was enough to make him know he is destined for greater things. He needs to be out of the castle and away from so much" I flap my hands in the air, "pomp. I don't know the right word but it smothers him."

"I thought you two were getting close. I thought maybe—"

I put my palm up to stop her from saying anything else. I'm already slicing my heart in silence, giving away crucial parts of what makes my life good.

"We are close. That's how I know this. How I know that she needs to let go, so he can stop resenting her and appreciate how great she is."

Mom murmurs, "It can't be easy living in our shadows. I never thought of it that way, honey. I only know how much he means to Marlee."

"But you know how it is. If you hold on so tightly—like me with Ahren—then you only crush what you love the most about the person. He's independent, smart, creative, giving...there are so many ways he could be using that talent and he's trapped here stewing about his mother instead of sharing his gifts with Illea."

"It sounds like you have an idea of what he might do if he leaves."

I shake my head. "He can do what he wants. I guess that's the point." I envy that.

Mom pulls me in for a hug and I let my tears fall on her shoulders.

"I'm so emotional lately," I moan.

"I know, love will do that to you," she says.

"I didn't say anything about love."

"Okay, hormones, dating, men--35 to be exact."

I groan.

She pats my back. "I'll talk to Marlee. You make excellent points for him to be his own man."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I didn't know you understood that about Ahren. You really have grown, Eady. I'm so proud of you."

Mom leaves, still thinking my tears are all about Ahren.