It's my birthday, guys! Just kidding, I won't post this for another couple days, so it'll be irrelevant by then, but still. I'm really sorry this is short. I was really busy this week and I'm going to be out of town for another week starting tomorrow. This chapter is mostly dialogue. Most people either love that or hate it. Hopefully you love it. If not, you'll probably like the next chapter better. Okay, anyway . . .
Thank you Happygreenbirdy for following and favoriting.
TieDieTruth: Thank you! I'm glad you thought it was good. Ember's part was really fun for me to write.
Anyone else want to review? Anybody? Nope? Okay, fine, be that way. Just kidding! I do like getting reviews, though.
After all the girls meet Prince Foster, 6 are sent home. In the next week, he seems to be speed-dating everyone. Three more girls have been sent home so far, and now it's almost time for my date. Prince Foster invited me to talk. That's it. Just talk. Should be interesting.
I figure I could just wear the same dress I wore to dinner, but Elaine insists that I change. So, instead of the blue dress I wore to dinner, I wear a floor length halter dress in a dusty rose color. Normally, pink isn't really my color, but this particular shade is really beautiful.
At 7:15, there is a knock at the door. Kiana opens it, and there stands Prince Foster, right on time. "You look lovely, Lady Allysa," he says.
"Please, it's just Allysa," I say.
"Fine, then. You look lovely, Just Allysa."
I laugh and roll my eyes. "Seriously, though, I swear these three," I tilt my head towards my maids, "are fairies." Kiana blushes, Lily looks proud, and Elaine says, "Thank you, Miss!"I smile at them and walk out with Prince Foster. "Just talking, huh?" I say.
"I've been trying to choose activities that fit with each girl's personality," he explains. "I really enjoyed our conversation on Saturday, and I'd like to get to know you better. Besides, you seem to be very talented at talking and listening."
"Not more than any of the other girls," I insist.
"I spent more than an hour talking to all of them," he reminds me. "And I've seen you with the other girls. Trust me when I say you're one of the best conversationalists of the bunch."
"Well, you spend 4 years working at an orphanage, you get good at listening. That's just how it works," I say. He pulls open a door to a small room furnished with a couch that looks a lot like the one that was in the Woman's Room the day we first met.
"You worked at an orphanage?" He looks intrigued.
"Oh," I say, a little surprised. "Yes, I do. I guess I kind of assumed you knew that."
"How would I know?" he asks.
"I guess you wouldn't," I say. "I don't think I put it on my application or anything. I'm just so used to being surrounded by people who know that, I start assuming that other people will just . . . know."
"Well, I know now," he says. "Tell me about it."
"It's . . . amazing," I start. "Working there was the best experience of my life. It was my life. The kids, they're all so strong. I know this one girl, she's eleven years old, and she pretty much had the worst family life imaginable. Her parents were abusive, so I guess one day her older brother decided he'd had enough. He got a gun, somehow, and shot them both. He did it right in front of her, too. I think he thought he was doing a good thing. He already had some mental health issues, so . . . Anyway, he was sent to jail, and Ellie was sent to live with her aunt. But the aunt, well, she wasn't much better than the parents. She was always drunk and didn't really pay attention to her niece. So, after a few months, Ellie ran away and came to the orphanage, where she's been ever since."
I look up to see that Prince Foster looks absolutely horrified. "Do they all have stories like that?"
"Lots of them do," I say. "Some of them were just left with us, some have parents who died. I- I'm sorry I upset you."
"You enjoyed hearing stories like that?"He looks even more horrified at that than the actual story I told.
"I enjoyed seeing kids trust me enough to tell me those stories. I enjoyed watching them learn to trust again, to love again. That's what I loved."
He exhales, relieved that I'm not a total monster. "If you loved it so much, why didn't you stay? Why are you here?"
"I-I don't really want to talk about it," I say. The fire is too painful a memory to relive, and right now, I think if I tried to give the simple version ('there was a fire') I'd end up spilling the entire thing, and I can't handle that right now.
"Okay," he says. "What do you want to talk about?" He obviously wants to know what happened, but he's willing to let it go for now.
"Hmm," I say. "How are you feeling about this whole Selection thing?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there are 26 crazy teenage girls here, and you're expected to fall in love with one of us," I say. "And the entire country is watching you."
"When you put it like that, it does sound terrifying," he admits. "But I've been enjoying getting to know all of the girls. I don't think falling in love will be the problem. I'm actually worried I'll fall for more than one of you."
"Yeah," I say. "That sounds even scarier, honestly. If you don't fall in love with anyone, then you don't have anything to lose, do you? But if you love more than one of us, then how can you make a decision without a piece of your heart breaking?"
He looks at me. "You're not exactly helping. But yes, that pretty much describes everything I'm feeling right now."
"I'm not going to tell you that it will all work out fine. Because it is a difficult and life changing decision. But look at your dad. Do you think he ever regrets choosing your mom?"
"No," he says. "I can't imagine him with anyone else, really."
"Exactly," I say. "And what about King Armin? Your aunt and uncle were made for each other. Everyone in the country can see it."
He looks at me, his eyes filling with hope. "Thank you, Allysa."
"What for?"
"For letting me think that this could all work out. For giving me hope that this might end up the fairy tale everyone says it will. Thank you."
I grin. "Anytime."
"I hope you mean that," he tells me.
"I do," I promise. There is a minute of silence that starts out sweet and meaningful but turns awkward halfway through. "Umm . . ."
"Yeah, so, uh," Prince Foster says.
"What's you favorite color?" I suddenly burst out.
"What?"
"Sorry, the awkwardness was killing me," I explain.
"Blue," he says.
"Why?"
He looks at me. "Do you ever stop with the questions?"
"Not really. Now are you going to answer or what?"
He laughs. "I don't actually know," he admits. "I guess it's just a calming color."
"Yeah, I like green for the same reason. And I can imagine a calming color would be nice with all the stress of running a country and all."
"True," he says. It's quiet again.
"Man, I really can't be all that good at conversations if everything I start keeps falling flat," I joke. He laughs. "Do you have a favorite food?" I try.
"I don't think it's possible to have a favorite with such talented chefs," he points out.
"I know, right?" I say. "It's only been two weeks and I already don't think I could ever go back to the stuff I've been eating before if I get sent home."
"It really is amazing, isn't it?" he says.
"I think it's the only thing all the Selected are all in agreement on. We have different opinions on fashion, politics, economics, you, each other, even history . . . but we are all united in our love for the food here. Even Ember can't deny that she loves it."
"She seems to be doing a fine job," he says.
"She tries," I say. "But I can tell."
"How?"
"You said it yourself," I point out. "I'm good with people. And she kind of reminds me of me when I was 13."
"Most people would be very offended at that," he observes.
"Well, okay, yeah, I was a witch when I was 13, but that's not what I meant. I meant that she's angry at the world, and I'm guessing at her family, too."
"What happened when you were 13?" he asks.
"It's . . . another thing I don't want to talk about," I say.
"So we're back to nothing to talk about?"
We sit in silence for a minute. "Do you have a favorite animal?"