My goal in asking Calvin for a movie date was to regain my confidence after that last movie date disaster. Calvin is waiting for me, in a button up lavender shirt and dark washed jeans. His shiny shoes and slicked back hair don't seem right on him.

The castle movie theatre is the same as it always has been, but one step in and my throat tightens. I clench and unclench my fists. It will not happen again. Heath is six feet away and the other guards are very alert. They are as aware as I am that I could have used a little help a month ago.

Calvin is unaware of my throbbing pulse as he makes small talk and compliments my dress overly much. He is pleasant as we negotiate what movie to watch. I'd like a documentary on Armani. He'd prefer Oliver Stone's first movie about Vietnam. Just with that, I get an inkling of the divide between our personalities and tastes. I manage to convince him to watch a new release of the latest action adventure movie.

The movie is loud and funny and we laugh a lot, devouring the greasy popcorn and giggling when our knuckles clash in the bucket of kernels. Earlier, I asked Heath to sit behind us in case I needed him to enforce my boundaries. Each action scene, I can hear him groaning behind me. Finally, I can't take it. I ask him what is the matter. He explains how unrealistic the fight scenes are. Calvin and I smirk and roll our eyes at him, as if he's the stick in the mud parent.

After that, we glance back after each combat scene, and Heath ticks off on his fingers what he didn't buy from the scene. It totally adds to the movie.

When it is over and we've rehashed the worst parts, Heath strolls to the back of the theatre. Calvin and I talk for a good hour. I find out Hale helped him dress, explaining the odd suaveness to his usually roughhewn image.

Calvin is sweet, funny, and a great guy to spend the evening with. But when he stands up and offers to walk me to my next date, I have no regrets. He seems to kindly understand that I have to divvy up my evening. I sense he knows no sparks were ignited between us. Yet, he maintains his humor and even picks up the popcorn we spilled.

When I say goodbye in the south wing hall, I impulsively go up on tiptoes and press my salty lips to his. It's...nice. Pleasant. Popcorny. Everything about him is pleasant. He does not deepen the kiss and I step back and thank him again.

When I round the corner to head to my next date, Kile is standing there.

He saw the kiss. I can tell by the broken look on his sweet face.

"That wasn't—" I begin. "It didn't mean anything." Panic flushes my cheeks and I want to reassure Kile so badly, but I can't. I shouldn't. I won't.

"I don't mean anything to you, do I?" His voice breaks on the last word and I flinch.

What can I say? I pushed you away because I like you too much to marry you? That I need someone who I can keep at a distance so I can do my job right? That running this country means not having real love?

"Kile, I shouldn't have led you on." With effort, I keep my face blank of the emotions tormenting me. "I can't select you."

"But you can select him?" he jerks his chin toward where I left Calvin.

"No!" I blurt out.

"So what," he clears his throat before going on. "You were just practicing?"

I gasp. I bite my tongue to keep from correcting him. Everything else is the façade. What I have –had—with him is the only real thing I've ever known. And that is why I can't tether him to me. He deserves better.

"I know you think you're helping everyone by doing the Selection. I want you to know, you do not have to. You can stop. All this. You do not have to pick a guy this year or this lifetime if you don't want. You don't need a guy to rule and you don't need a guy to be happy. You are the strongest, most independent, sexy, funny, kind woman. I don't—"

I slam him against the wall and plaster my body to his, planting a deep kiss on his smooth lips and threading my fingers through his sloppy hair. Damn I love his hair.

I lose myself in the kiss. I let it go on, despite being in public. Because I know this is goodbye. I can't have him thinking I am at all in doubt about my destiny. I don't want him watching the broadcasts on his television while thinking I am pining for him, or that I'm sad with my position in life. He needs to believe those things about me being strong. He needs to know I am making this choice because I want to. Not because of my dad, my country, or my insecurity.

I break away. We are both panting, our foreheads pressing together.

I fall back into my mind. I'm doing the opposite of what I should. I need to set him free, I have in practicality, and now I need to emotionally.

"Eady," he gasps. In that word, I know he is true. His passion is not about my title or circumstance. His eyes are cloudy with desire and his high cheekbones are flushed a cherry red.

I steady my voice and say, "You asked me before what I'm doing, running this façade."

"You don't have to. Tell your dad how you feel and he'll call it off. You don't need to be playing this game for love." He sounds desperate. Weirdly, it only makes me more determined.

I toss my head to clear his words out. If I keep him by my side, he will soon resent me. Then even our short time together will be ruined.

So I smirk and force myself to carry out the final phase of Operation Free Kile.

"How are you in any position to be giving me advice? About life? What are you doing?"

"What's that mean?" He shakes his head. I realize I am melded tightly to his tall frame, and I peel off, stepping back one, then two steps.

I put my hands on my hips. "Why are you here?"

"They drew my name," he says with a confused frown.

"No, I mean here, in the castle. Before all the Selection hoopla. You could go anytime without your mother's blessing. You're too chicken. Just like I'm too chicken to eliminate you because I like...your lips."

We hear a rustle down the hall and a flash of light goes off. The press.

"Someone will see us," he hisses, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward the servant's staircase.

"What if I don't care?"

"It would be a field day in the press," he says in a panicky voice. "They're already eating you alive for the eliminations. And how you looked. I thought you looked amazing, natural. You don't need bells and whistles." I let him drag me along the hall.

"What about what you need, Kile? That hasn't changed. You need a ticket out of this castle. And I got it for you. My end of the deal."

His face goes blank.

"You want out of here. That was our deal. And I'm making good on it. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he says dully. His feet slow and then stop. "Wait, what are you saying Eady?"

"You'll see," I say. I go up on tiptoes and kiss his upper lip, push off him, and walk through flash bulbs to my next date.

I get through my next date like a robot. Alex is not who I want. He is too nice and a bit slow in the processing of my questions. He has no interest in politics, geography, or fashion. What he loves are sports and weapons. While we indulge in an array of desserts, I get an earful of those two topics, which is actually convenient because I don't much feel like talking.

The date ends with too many sweets in my stomach and a friendly handshake.

I call Eikko before I go to bed and tell him about the evening. I don't leave much out.

"I don't think it's the sweets upsetting your stomach," he says cautiously.

"Treat me like a friend, not royalty," I say. I snuggle deeper into my covers. I really do feel sick.

"I'm just asking, why do you have to sacrifice so much? Do you think your family or your country expect it from you?"

"Honestly? Yes. I do. That's what I've been taught."

"You might be surprised," he says quietly. "Maybe you heard it that way but they meant it another way. Perception can distort reality."

I sigh. "I was never a top student in philosophy. Or human behavior. You're going to have to spell it out for me. I can't exactly ask Kadan about this kind of thing, and he's my go-to genius."

From my bedside table, I pull out a clipping from last week's newspaper. It's of me and the Selection boys. We're standing around after a taping. No one knew the press was still capturing stills. All the boys are chatting and laughing and cutting loose after the stiff formality of being on TV. My posture is perfect, straight and proud, my palm resting on my chair back, the other in the middle of pushing my hair behind my ear. But it's my eyes that catch my attention as I examine the picture. I am watching Kile. Kile is across the room, standing with Eikko and Henri and Calvin. They are smiling at him and laughing, but he is staring at me. The look on his face is a complicated mix of appreciation, respect, and a soft caring, something very intimate.

My expression is coy, but there is yearning in my eyes. I remember that I was hoping I'd catch up with him later. Maybe I was thinking about what's between us. I wish I could filter everyone out of the picture and have it be just us. Looking across the room at each other as if we were alone. Should I really be throwing away a connection this strong?

Eikko clears his throat. "Still there?"

"I was daydreaming. A new habit. You were telling me something about perception but you lost me after that."

"Might I ask what—or who—you were dreaming about?"

"No you may not. Unless...you tell me who has caught your eye."

"How do you know anyone has?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not. How'd you know?"

"Your eyes dart all about now, when we're talking. Like you can't help but look around for someone. It's darling, really. No one would notice but me."

"I hope not! It's so embarrassing."

"No, it's not. It makes you human. I hope whoever you are looking for is looking right back."

Eikko lets out a deep chuckle. "I highly doubt it. But let me explain what I meant earlier. When I came out to my parents, I was so nervous I was literally ill right before I spoke with them. They had always expected me to be the educated family member, the first to go to college, to get a respectable job, to get out of the fields. They were beaming at my graduation, and when I got my first promotion my mom swooned. I was so worried they would be disappointed in me when I finally told them...I put it off for years...but then..."

I hold my breath. This story could go a lot of ways. I've never had a secret from my parents, well, not a big one at least.

"They were loving. They were sure I was going to tell them something awful like that I had cancer. They were relieved. I think they knew already, just by knowing me. They just hugged me and told me they loved me always, however I was, whatever I did. It blew me away. The pressure to please them was all from myself. In fact, I was already pleasing them by loving them and respecting them, as they were for me. The details were not important to them. My trusting them was important, though. And since then we are closer. Do you think you could talk to your dad? How did he feel about his Selection?"

"Well, he found my mom, so...I don't think he's going to complain. If he didn't like it, he's forgotten."

"Ask him."

"It was his idea for me to do this."

"Because he wanted you to find a soulmate. You don't get out otherwise, who else would you meet?"

"Um, no. He wanted a distraction for the country. A spectacle."

"No, he wouldn't use you like that."

"I let him. I agreed."

"Really?" I hear him struggling to believe me.

A silence settles between us.

"I think I know now why you feel sick." His voice is flat. He believes me.

We aren't able to revive the conversation and so I say goodbye and lie alone in bed, staring at the plain ceiling.

Eikko and I are so different. Our parents are different. Mine love me, but they have a duty that comes before everything. And I am following in their footsteps, even though I know my heart wishes for another path.