The next day I make it to yoga with Jocelyn, the guard I met in the infirmary. She's so surprised to see me she falls out of some pose she was demonstrating. Then she helps me get set up in the back, so no one can see me without obviously turning around and gaping.

She begins the class and I am able to surreptitiously look around at my classmates. They don't pay me much mind which is unusual and refreshing. There are many different types in the class. All ages, sizes, races, and classes. I, of course, am the only royalty.

I am also the clumsiest one in class. It's startling to be bending and stretching into all these vulnerable poses in the midst of strangers. The wording is what I could never duplicate in private. Everyone has problems to let go and peace to embrace. Jocelyn does not even sound corny saying it. She's so buff and tough up there no one would dare giggle. We're all just there because we want to be. For yoga. Ahren would love it.

After class, I thank Jocelyn and am the last to leave the room. Heath gives me a dubious look and I do not take the bait. I think I know what he thinks of yoga.

A shower and an egg white omelette in my room and I am off to work for a couple hours.

I am especially glad I did the yoga when I finish catching up on the news. It's all bad. Really bad. I should probably do another several yoga classes.

I actually call Eikko and he comes to sit with me. I have too much work for us to chat, but he is a calming presence in the room. He doesn't even ask me why I'm so busy. He sits on my gold velvet settee and reads his orientation manual for castle translator. He seems pleased with the job. I'm just glad to be able to hold on to one friend.

We do take a small break for tea, and I learn how he takes it.

"Sugar, no milk. You?" he asks.

"Milk, no sugar," I say with a smile.

"Really?"

"Really. Is it weird that I asked?"

"Definitely," he says, smiling to ease the teasing. "You will never serve me tea, that's almost as definite as a psychic prediction."

"I might order you tea," I say, with a thoughtful expression.

He nods in agreement. "Alright."

Soon we are parting ways for me to continue my work day in the bigger office with the rest of the advisors. We have a lot to hash out in response to the news.

Before leaving, Eikko hesitates before murmuring, "You saw?"

I nod once and say, "I did." I open the door to my office, my shoulders sloping downward already. I'll miss Eikko's quiet support.

He turns to me and says firmly, "Don't take it on yourself."

I make a noncommittal face.

"He's right," comes a low voice.

"Heath?" I'm shocked that he would say anything, much less in a conversation I didn't know he could hear.

Eikko looks up at Heath. Heath tilts his head and says to me, "It's not your fault. I saw your face as you listened to the news. It's not you they are protesting. It's a system."

"That I head," I say.

"Not yet," Heath replies.

Eikko has no idea what to do. I can sense his confusion. The castle staff are polite to a fault. Usually.

"You shouldn't talk to her like that," he says in a trembling voice. He wants to stand up for me but Heath is huge and always sounds a bit ticked off.

"Erik, it's fine," I begin to say.

"He's right. My apologies," Heath says. The thing is, he still sounds confrontational. Luckily, I know him well enough to know this is his closest to kind mode.

I nod my acceptance.

Then I say to Eikko, "As my guard, he sees a lot of chaos. It's a wonder he can usually bite his tongue so well."

"Not well enough it would seem," Eikko says stiffly. It's the first time I've seen him displeased.

Heath's lips tighten into a thin white line but he says nothing, which I'd interpret as an apology. The way Eikko huffs off makes me think he found it patronizing. I'll have to explain later. They are polar opposites but both have good hearts.

I makes some calls and emails to arrange an unexpected elimination taping for tonight.

Then I do what I've been putting off. I meet with my father, who has been texting me for my time all morning.

"Your brother says you're not taking his calls," he begins right as I sit down. His private office is pristine and well organized, but today it hardly fits the disheveled man behind the desk. Who happens to be staring at me with disapproval.

"I'll speak to him when I'm ready," I coolly reply.

"Isn't that a bit harsh?" Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and dismisses the guards from his office. They leave quietly.

"Not as harsh as leaving in the middle of the biggest event of my life to get married without me—I mean without family—in a foreign country. So, no, not as harsh, thank you very much." I almost cover my mouth I am so surprised by my outburst. I am on a roll lately. I decide not to take it back. It's how I truly feel.

"Eadlyn," Dad says in shock. "Don't you speak to me in that manner. This is an inopportune time to be having your little teenage rebellious phase. People are counting on you. Your brother and his wife lead a country that is our powerful ally. We need them desperately to settle this unrest our country is facing. Our own military is defecting by the dozen every day. Ahren can't focus when he thinks you're mad at him."

I glare at Dad. He clasps and then unclasps his hands. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes fan out. A surge of guilt courses through me.

"Dad, I'm sorry, okay? I need to be focused. I'm picking a husband soon. I want to make a good choice."

His face goes slack. "You sound serious."

"I am. More than ever. This will work. And then people will see my softer side. They will know I will be ruling with a partner, a commoner, and they will not be as angry about you leaving the throne in my hands."

Dad looks up at me with anticipation in his eyes. "I hope so, Eadlyn. I never guessed it would spiral so quickly or so badly."

"I'm getting there, Dad. Another taping tonight."

"Two in a row?"

I nod.

He sighs. "Alright. Just make sure it looks real. I don't want them to think the whole thing is a set-up."

I pass over this obvious chance to point out that a set-up is exactly what the Selection is and always has been.

Instead I say, "You seem more worried than usual."

He sighs and shakes his head. "You saw the news?"

I nod. Another small riot. Fires, looting, seven dead. More injured. It was a group of former fours protesting that they were being reverse discriminated against. They felt passed over for jobs. Some previous nines, mostly homeless, got involved trying to defend their right to equal opportunity. The police force was split with how to handle it, and their indecision wasted time. It's all over the news, including some graphic pictures of bystanders getting hurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head. "No, you do the Selection. I'll handle the country."

I fake pout and say, "I get all the hard stuff." He does not smile back, but looks down to shuffle through the papers on this desk, glancing at his watch, and then picking up a pen.

I stand up, smooth my skirt, and mentally schedule in time to call Ahren and ream him out for bellyaching to Dad about my silent treatment.

Before I leave, I turn back to Dad and ask, "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"One more thing. A man is staying from the eliminated candidate's service. The translater."

"Eikko? I mean, Erik. Yes, he's my friend. He agreed to stay on in a position here. I asked him to."

Dad's face twists with discomfort. "Your mother would say this better, but if you are to have side affairs like this, you must be entirely discrete. She and I do not care for that type of dalliance, but privacy is paramount—"

"You're not suggesting...Dad! How could you think? He's my friend. Nothing more. I plan on being faithful to my vows! I'm serious."

I spin and march out. By the tight set of Heath's shoulders, I think he heard my Dad's innuendo. Great. No one respects me and no one trusts me to have real friends. Ugh.

I retreat to my own office, trying to think of a way to address the riots in the broadcast tonight. I will have to make mention of it, even though it is not the topic at hand. Otherwise it would be disrespectful.

How can our monarchy make more people happy? I doodle with an ink pen, hoping to think of an action plan. I get nowhere. Actually, when I refocus on the page, I see I have made a bold drawing of Kile's face. His stark features jump off the paper and burrow into my heart, nestling into a quiet place where I can keep him forever.

My problem, or one of them, is that I don't know the specific reasons why my people are not happy. The castes are over but something remains from them that is not healing. Rather, it's like an infection is slowly taking root and spreading through the system.

I think about asking Kadan about the deeper cause but I know he is already stressing. If he had a clue, he'd tell Dad.

Then I get a solid, constructive idea. I spend the rest of the afternoon putting it into action.

I prepare for the broadcast very carefully. My make-up is flawless, my red asymmetrical jacket is pressed to perfection and the flared skirt is the perfect length. My hair is coiled up in a braid that resembles a crown and I wear the massive pearl earrings and necklace that Mom loves. I'm about to call for someone to do my nails a matching red when Heath breaks protocol again and tells me he knows just the person. He makes a quick call and a petite woman appears and does an excellent job on my nails. She even gives me a much needed hand massage. I only think of Neena a little, and then I go back to mentally rehearsing tonight in my head. It might be the most important night of my life.

I'm fussing in front of the mirror letting my nerves get the best of me when Heath clears his throat and gives me a firm nod. He's saying I look fine, enough already. Somehow I believe him, and feel better.

I sigh. I'm looking to my servants for reassurance now.

Then I cast Heath a small smile, to make up for thinking of him as his station, and I check the clock for the zillionth time. Twenty minutes until I have to go. I might as well cross one more thing off my list.

I call Ahren. Ever since Eikko mentioned him, I've realized the rift between us is bothering me more than I thought. Almost more than Neena's defection.

After being on hold for an inexcusable five minutes—didn't they hear me say who I was?—Camille finally gets on the phone. We have an innocuous chat while the staff scout Ahren down. How big is that place? Why is my brother just roaming about? I will never understand him.

Finally, I hear my twin's breathless voice, sounding irked but curious. It has never been so long between our speaking. An odd fizzle underlies our cursory greetings.

"So," he says.

"So," I reply, not willing to be the first to say anything positive or negative.

He clears his throat. I stay silent. I always won when we played Don't Break the Sugar Bowl. I can picture him running his fingers through his hair, searching for the words.

Finally he cracks, "You don't look like yourself."

I let out an unladylike snort.

"I saw you on TV. Have you been sewing?"

"Not without Neena," I say. Then I realize that I am running my own fingers through my careful coif. I make myself sit still. "I am very busy, as you can imagine."

"Making any dresses? Sketching at least?"

"Stop acting like you care," I spit out.

"I do!" he shouts, his anger brewing beneath the surface just like my own.

"Right, you cared so much you freaking left!" I sob, then I struggle to pull myself together. Heath gives me a worried look from the corner. I wave for him to leave. I forgot.

"I'm coming home," Ahren says morosely.

"No, you don't need to do that. I've got this, Ahren."

"No, I don't think you do. Your last broadcast? Camille almost fainted. What were you wearing? And in those pictures? Was that denim? Jeans? And was that mud on your eyebrow?"

"Did Dad call you?" I accuse.

"Mom did."

I huff, "'Course." He's always been her favorite. I thought our talk had settled her down.

"You're rushing the selection when you didn't really want to have it at all. You almost seem like you want to find someone. Either really good acting...but I know you are a disaster of an actress..."

"I do want to find someone."

"Really," he says dryly.

"Yes."

"For your country?"

"For me. I need it. The stability. I've been alone for a long time, ever since you fell for Camille actually. It used to be you and me, all the time. Remember?"

A heavy silence settles. I swallow and let it widen.

"I had to find love," he says defensively.

"Then let me find it, my way."

"You can't hold that against me—" he says nervously.

"I was holding it against you," I say. I hear him gasp. "And you were right. I thought I had the power to ruin what you have with Camille. And I was tempted to. I don't know, given more time, maybe I would have. Tried, at least. I understand why you left."

"Why now? What made you see? I'll be honest Eady, you're making believe in body snatchers. Aliens. Mind control. Have you been exposed to any radioactive ladybugs lately?"

"A lot has happened since you left," I say quietly.

"I saw the news about the riots. It's a tragedy. Such a horrible waste of potential and hope. Camille and I want to help. Just say what you need and we'll do it."

"I need you guys to be safe and in love. I'm glad you found her, Ahren, and I'm glad you can be together. What's happening in Illea is my responsibility. Dad and I will work it out."

"I'm worried about you. The selection doesn't seem to be helping the way they wanted it to and you're stuck. It's not like you can give up without offending every single region that still has a candidate in it."

"I'm not giving up. I'm doing what I can to make the best of it."

"So you believe in the selection now? What the hell happened to you?"

"It worked for Mom and Dad!

"There's more to the story. Ask Mom."

"I don't need to. I know who they are now, and we came from that union. And my seven minutes on you means I get to have a Selection and deal with the consequences of my decision. So I better get focusing. I have a pros and cons list to make."

"Seriously?"

"No."

"Oh, that sounded like the old Eady."

"Well, who wants to be old?"

"Mom's thinking of coming here to recoup. She doesn't want her illness to make people think Dad's distracted or weak. If she's gone he can focus. We'll take excellent care of her. Their family doctor is amazing. Mom could work her way back to 100% here."

"She'll never leave Dad in all this." Honestly, it's me I don't think she'd leave in the middle of such chaos.

"Well...It's stressful, right?"

I make a hmm noise that means yes.

"She needs to be out of stress for a while."

"But Dad—"

"No buts. Dad is a grown man. He can go without Mom for a month or so."

"A month!"

"Or so."

"The selection will be over by then."

"Dad would let you end it that soon?"

"I can't stand it much longer. I am not a serial dater."

"That sounds more like you."

"Not sure if that's bad or good."

"You know who you're going to pick, don't you?"

I stay quiet.

"I knew it! Will I like him?"

"It's not a joke, Ahren."

"Never said it was. Do I know him, like, know know him?"

"It's not Kile."

The line goes still. "No?"

"We'll talk later. Stop whining to Dad about me. It's you who left me, so deal with the space, baby bro." Then I hang up and feel a tad bit better. The more I say I've made a choice, the closer it is to being true.

I make a few last touches on my outfit.

I double check all my emails of instructions for tonight. I am taking charge of my own life, within the possibilities before me. If I have to be queen, then I want to do it my way.