The next week passed in a blur and a haze of many business meetings that I didn't get any time for thinking about what'd happened between America and I.
Along with the many dates with the many girls I'd had to keep up, the meetings...it was too much. But at the same time I was glad for it. The Swendish royals liked my presentations and congratulated me for my efforts, which made me stand proud, my back flexing with the pride.
My aunt stayed for three days after the reception whereas the royal family stayed for the whole week, even attending the Report with us, discussing the international trades between the two countries. I sat with father in the meetings but the many decisions I'd presented weren't taken into consideration. In fact, they were almost discarded.
"You have to consider some of my opinions, sir." I'd confronted him after the Report in his office. "You can't neglect my every suggestion."
"Do not push me, Maxon." He'd said with mock calm making the words a dare to challenge. "Your suggestions would be regarded only if you think like a king. And why do we have to put more efforts there when we're already good. If we have to, we must out efforts in getting in good terms with Italy."
"But you said about the international trades—"
"Yes. I said it. And they're already done. The deal had been signed. If you want to do some good, then write me a letter to the Italians they can't reject. And one to Germany, too. We need to make good relations with them as well."
"What happened to the trade relations with them?" I muttered, trying to compose myself again. It never helped when I got better of my temper with him.
"They're running good, but we need to expand them a little. We can't remain stagnant forever."
"Okay, sir."
"And what about eliminations?"
As asked, I did eliminate, but this time on my considerations. Camille and Laila. We weren't compatible and that was that. They were heartbroken, but left the palace. After a couple of days or so, Mikaela, their best friend, got so homesick that she asked to go, too. She was the first to go voluntarily.
And just like that, I was thinned to nineteen girls.
America and I didn't approach each other, neither did we shared our secret message. I was fine with that, or I was too stubborn to think otherwise, but when the infrastructure meeting was called off due to some personal reasons from the committee's president, I couldn't stop myself from asking for her.
It appeared, even she was growing restless without me, as she ran immediately in my arms, with a joyous "Maxon!", holding me tight.
I was completely astonished by her enthusiasm, but happy all the same to get such a reaction from her. Stepping back a little, I asked, "How are you today?"
"Perfect, of course. What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be working?"
"The president of the Infrastructure Committee is sick, so the meeting was postponed. I'm free as a bird all afternoon." My once 'it's going to be a long day' soon turned into an excellent one. I gave her my arm and she took it immediately. "What do you want to do?" I had so much in mind, with the sole motto of bringing the normalcy, the friendliness, back in our relationship: whatever it was.
She waved it away. "Anything! There's so much of the palace I still haven't seen. There are horses here, right? And the movie theatre. You still haven't taken me there."
"Let's do that. I could use something relaxing. What kinds of movies do you like best?" I asked as we started walking toward to the basement.
"Honestly, I don't know. I don't get to watch a lot of movies. But I like romantic books. And comedies, too!"
"Romance, you say?" I asked with a raised brow. It was almost ironic. I had so many thoughts—I'd lived every scenario once in my mind with so many situations—about us. And to include romance in it. Especially when she said she wanted to wait...
She laughed at my suggestion, punching my playfully on my arm.
We turned a corner and suddenly she stopped, stumbling a little, breathing a gasp. I held her tight, looking for the source. And found her watching a guard who was standing with the other guards in the hallway. I recognized a few as the newly recruited ones. But what shocked me was the longing in her eyes.
Maybe I was wrong. For one moment there waa longing and the other: nothing. She'd almost shut herself down. Any of it didn't make any sense. The guard was barely old than me, with green eyes like emerald and dark cropped hair. Just like everyone else, he carried a staff, but unlike others he was already too alert. Maybe he was one of the high post. His label read: OFFICER LEGER.
Maybe he knew her...or he was the mysterious—
I didn't let myself complete the thought.
No! It isn't him. He was a coward. He won't come here to get her back. He lost her once, I won't let that man hurt her further.
But then...
"America, do you know this young man?" I thought aloud.
If he was that man—
She cleared her throat once. "Yes. Officer Leger comes from Carolina. He's actually from my hometown." Her smile was real. No pain.
Oh! That would appear why they seemed familiar to each other. They might know each other. And I thought...
"Well, how about that!" She would have one familiar face, at least. "Welcome, Officer Leger. You must be happy to see your Champion Girl again." I shook hand with him. He had a surprisingly good grip.
He gave me a ghost of a smile. "Yes, Your Majesty. Very much so."
"I'm sure you're pulling for her, too," I gushed, winking at America.
She gave me a slow smile, but the officer gave me a quick, small bow. "Of course, Your Majesty."
"Excellent. Since America is from your home province, I can't think of a better man in the palace to leave her with. I'll make sure you're put on her guard rotation. This girl of yours refuses to keep a maid in her room at night. I've tried to tell her..."
"I'm not surprised by that, Your Majesty."
What did it mean?
"Well, I'm sure you all have a busy day ahead of you. We'll just be off. Good day, officers." I nodded at him and he gave me a small bow, standing in attention again.
Tugging a still stumbling America, we went in the basement. Though she was eager to watch a movie she claimed, she didn't act like it. I played a romantic comedy for us, but she barely laughed, barely looked at my way. Her gaze was aloof, as if deep in thought. More than once she'd glance up to the door and sigh, looking back at me and turning to the screen in the same instant.
I had no idea what to make of it.
Even after the movie finished, she didn't move.
"You didn't like that one, did you?"
"Huh?"
"The movie. You didn't laugh or anything."
"Oh. I think I'm just a little out of it today." She shrugged, a little too nonchalantly. "Sorry you wasted your afternoon."
"Nonsense. I just enjoy your company. Though perhaps you should take a nap before dinner. You're looking a little pale."
She nodded solemnly, and didn't talk with me the whole way to her room.
.
.
.
"So, your birthstone is amethyst. February..."
"Twenty-third." I supplied to Kriss as we looked at a glimpse of the royal stones. "I don't know why but the Royal family is supposed to mark the important dates with birthstones."
"Oh. I didn't know that." She turned and looked at the photo of George Illéa and his family. "Do you ever think George Illéa was wrong in giving away Katherine to build international relations?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "II guess if you look from Katherine's point of view, then yes: she was married to a old man whom she didn't love. But Damon was fine with it. That's the thing about history. You may never know the how's and why's. Just the what's."
"Maybe there are what's and how's and why's in the palace." She mulled over. "I mean I'd heard George Illéa had a habit of writing a diary."
I didn't show the surprise on my face, even when I felt it. How did she know? And why?
"Oh, I don't mean to pry." She gave me an apologetic smile. "II was just curious. My dad's a big fan of George Illéa and he'd read, like, thousands of books on him."
"Oh. I don't know. I was never a sucker for George Illéa." I shrugged, leaving it there.
Yes. I was right. I never liked his ideas. Sure he had a big hand in attaining freedom, but he'd made the caste system. He'd forced his daughter to marry someone just for business. He'd let Spencer go away, claiming he'd died. Father always said there may come a day when a direct descendant of Illéa family would come and claim the crown. A crown that was rightfully mine. And to give over the country which I loved so much...
"I just thought...Never mind. So, where were we? Ah! Your birthstone. You tell me, is purple your favourite colour then?"
"No. Yours? What's your birthstone?"
"Sapphire. It sounds cliché, but I love sapphires the most."
"When's your birthday?"
"Um, in two days. I'm not a particular fan of birthdays—"
"Ridiculous." I waved a hand, erasing everything. "You're one of the Selected, you'll be celebrated as one."
"You don't have to—"
"It's already done." Public was already eager to find more about the Selection as well after the cameras were cut down for the stay of Swendway royals, and a party was always a good idea. "You were telling about George Illéa?"
"Nothing. It was just ludicrous. I just thought that there are so many books here, some even the exclusive and only copy. It was just an assumption that maybe his diaries or some of his books or a few books depicting his journey might be here—"
"Oh, no. We don't have it here. In fact, almost all the books here aren't that special." Because the special ones have been stored far away in the palace where no one can see them. "There are some, but not the only copy."
"Oh!" Why did she look crestfallen? "You tell me, do you ever write diaries?"
I chuckled as we slid out of the chamber. But there was something I couldn't finger point at. Something about her being so interested in the special editions.
Maybe she was right. She was just curious. After all her father is a professor. And I was getting paranoid.
.
.
.
The next two days passed in a blur. If you could call attending meetings and meetings where you just sit and pretend to be taking it all in but you know your opinions won't be considered an interesting day. He had just one work for me. My father. Select one and end this whole thing.
But it wasn't that simple.
Ever since three of the girls left, I was being cornered by each and everybody. It turned out Camille was Mr. Livingstone's favourite. And Laila was an important candidate as she was related to Italian embassy. Mikaela was connected to the Germans—her father worked in the German royal family as their royal tutor.
"You have to be more subtle about who to eliminate, Maxon." Father told me after a meeting where the advisors' were discussing their favourites. "Camille was a loss to us. She could've helped us in meeting with the Italians."
"She wasn't compatible."
"Who's telling you to marry her anyway?" he said it as if that was the most plausible thing to do. "You were just supposed to date her while we set up a date!"
"What about me?"
"You are the Prince of Illéa. You'll have to learn to sacrifice for our country."
This wasn't the end of it, anyway.
I was cornered by every one of his personal advisors', each of them trying to sell me why one particular girl was perfect for me.
"Marlee is the people's favourite, and so is Natalie." Mr. Needle told me, pointing out the magazine top runner lists for the princess. Marlee was the favourite choice whereas Kriss was the next in that spot. I was surprised to see America loved by everyone else well. If the reports were true, it was mostly because of her uncanny interview in the Report. "You can't ignore them." Mr. Needle pointed out. "Neither can we eliminate them." It didn't go out of my notice that he thought he had some say in the elimination.
"Lady Celeste is a public figure. She looks beautiful with you as well." said Mr. Windsman, master of Capital Report. "People love her style."
"Elise has to stay. I don't care if she wins or not." Was father's opinion. "We need an upper hand in our situation with New Asia."
"Elayna has contacts in Spain." I was told by Mr. Xander. "Considering we're already good with them in terms of trade, we can contact them and expand our relations."
It seemed I wasn't just a pawn of the king, but of everyone as well, for how they all were trying to lure me in selecting their favourite.
The only ones who didn't have any supporters were Lucy, Tiny, Clarissa, America, Tuesday, Olivia and Tallulah.
If anything, they wanted me to get rid of all the Fours and Fives and only concentrate on the upper castes. One even had the nerve to say: "The king married for love and we ended up having a Four as queen. We can't let our standards fall this time! We have to Select a Two! Even a Three is acceptable. But a Four!" Not that he said in front of me.
Heaven forbid if he did...
I was looking for a jewellery item to gift Kriss, and also recalling each of those scenarios again, when Mom found me in the royal locker room. "I didn't know you're good in selecting jewellery."
"I'm not, mom. Kriss told me she liked sapphires. I was looking for something like that."
"That means I was right. You aren't any good in choosing gifts."
I ran my hand over my hair, not knowing what to say or choose.
"Sweetie, you must gift them something you like. Something you chose for them. Not something you know is their favourite."
"Thanks for the riddle, Mom."
She chuckled once. "Giving a gift is an art, sweetheart. If I had to give you something, it wouldn't be what you already have or like. It would be something I liked for you. Something I saw that reminded me of you."
"And what when I don't know her better?"
"She may be your wife, Maxon."
"Not helping, Your Majesty." It came out more harsh than needed.
She let it pass, though. "What do you make of Kriss? What does remind you of her? It's not necessary a girl has to be gifted jewellery. It has to be something meaningful. Something that'll make her remind of you, even if she doesn't make it till the end."
"What do you suggest then?"
"Something that is just hers. You may be having a hard time to choice, but the girls' here have just a choice. You. You may not select her, but she may still be your friend."
"Thanks for complicating it further, Mom." I gave in with a chuckle. She took my arm and lead me out of the room, suggesting me some gifts.
And soon it was time for me to attend Kriss's birthday party.
I was still undecided what to gift her. I'd all but had three dates with her—the least. And she was always more interested in books rather than me...
Books!
I went to my personal collection of library and found out a few books she may like: Illéa—the fighter. A drabble of short romantics, and George Illéa—the saviour or deceiver. She may like that. As well as a small peacock pendant made of sapphire. She always wore her eight-pointed star locket, I'd noticed, and knew that she'd love this pendant. It wasn't big to overshadow her locket—a hand-me-down from her grandparents—and also wasn't too loud for everyone to notice it.
When I'd packed her gifts, I went down the hall to the great room when a melody made me stop. It was strung on a violin, a song that reminded me of all the joyful moments. The notes that were lovely and flute-like, yet shrilling and vibrant at the same time. Music that was sweet and loud at the same time. That made you close your eyes and recall your favourite memory; that made you see all the bright spots in your flashback. I didn't recognise the song or the player, but couldn't help following the notes, walking to them.
Stupid feet forgot how to take a step!
My eyes forgot to see anything else but her.
If I thought the music was startling, then the player was sensuous. Sparkling.
With eyes closed, hands moving to play the instrument, a big smile playing on her sweet face, I couldn't catch my breath. My eyes never left her face. For the first time, I thought, somebody knocked me down to my feet yet I felt like flying.
Whether it was the music that made my heart pound, or the sun shining on her red hair, or the mysterious smile that beckoned me to ask her secrets...for better or for worse, I realised I had much deeper feelings for America than I had let myself feel.
The way music made you float, made you dance to its rhythm, all our moments danced in front of my eyes.
The moment she played the last note, leaving it on a high pitched end, my heart started playing its own rhythm.
Our eyes met and the whole world ceased to matter.
In that moment I had another secret. A secret so lovely I felt I could dance in the air or walk on the water.
I gave her a small smile and she smiled back. Maybe she read my secret in my eyes. Maybe she read in on my face. Maybe she realised it for my heart was shouting her name all over. But for the moment I let myself bath in the love I felt for her.
But that wasn't the secret.
The secret was simple. I found someone who made me happy.
It didn't matter if she reciprocated my feelings or not, if she thought I was worthy for her love or not,if she wanted to make our relationship something. What mattered was that she made me happy. Not content, but happy. Not like the others made me feel special, but worthy of her. Of being with her.
Maybe a second had passed or a minute, I didn't care. I bathed in all the things I was feeling. It was too much, almost overwhelming, but I didn't care.
It wasn't just love. It was more.
Aunt Adele was right. About every damn thing she said about love.
I'd thought she was messing with me. That I may never get to feel like that with anyone. But here were all the things she claimed I was missing on. All the feelings embracing me in the aftermath of the music.
After what felt like an eternity, she said, "Your Majesty."
All the heads turned around, all of them curtsying and singing, when a loud "No" made the remnants of the joyful mood setup by the music drift away.
"Oh, no!" Celeste whispered to a horror-struck Kriss, clutching her wine glass to her chest, "Kriss, I'm so sorry!"
Kriss turned and I saw why she'd shrieked. Her dress, a cream dress that almost passed for a wedding dress, now had a big red splotch in the middle, caused by the wine in Celeste's glass.
"I'm sorry, I just turned too fast." Celeste said, sincere apology in her words. "I didn't mean to, Kriss. Let me help you." But the apology meant nothing to Kriss. She squealed No's again and ran out of the Great Room, clutching her dress, big, fat tears in her eyes. I looked at America once, let the feeling settle again, and ran after Kriss.
Instead of turning left to her room, she turned right and ran to the end of the hallway. I caught up to her easily, holding her arms in mine as she tried to struggle with her tears. "Today was supposed to be joyful. I turned eighteen." She cried, twisting her hands away from my grasp.
"It'd still your birthday, Kriss." I urged.
"You don't understand, Maxon!" She yelled, crying in earnest. "You are a prince!"
She fell to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest as she cried her heart out. Not knowing what to do, I kneeled beside her, rubbing small circles on her back.
"I never got to celebrate any birthdays. And the one I did, she had to spoil that, too!" Her voice broke twice.
"Shh, dear. It was just a mistake. An honest mistake. You can't let that spoil your day!" I murmured, hoping I was doing a good job in soothing her, as I rubbed her back.
"It's easy for you!" She whined. "I won't get to live such a moment again. I won't be in a spotlight again."
"You're not a nobody, Kriss. If anything, you're one of the most amazing candidate."
She sniffed, finally her head out of her hands. "You don't have to feed me lies, Maxon."
"I'm telling the truth." I promised. "You're fun and caring. Full of opinions and ideas and a curiosity to learn. One who doesn't fears putting them in front of me." All if it was the truth. It was one of the reasons why I didn't mind going out with her. "If anything, you're one of the strongest women I've ever known, and trust me, I know a lot."
She wiped her tears back and stood, sniffing once. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let you see me cry. It's embarrassing."
"No. What's embarrassing is not knowing how to stop a crying woman!" I told her truthfully, hoping humour would settle things. I stood along with her and walked her to the bench beside a plant. "I'm still learning. Hopefully I've done better this time."
She laughed. "You're good."
"Would you still like to celebrate your birthday?" I asked.
She looked down at her dress, clenching a fistful of it on her fist. "You don't have to put efforts, Maxon." She whispered, looking at me directly in the eye. "We both know there's no chemistry between us. I was crying mostly because my dress is spoiled and my birthday ruined, not because you're seeing me this way."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate your birthday." I told her, again truthfully. "You're right. We both don't have chemistry, but we're still friends, right?"
"I didn't know about that." She murmured with a grin.
Looking in her eye with uttermost respect, I told her, "You're a good lady, Kriss. I'd be honoured to be your friend."
"Hey! You're stealing my line!"
My grin matched hers. "Glad to see you back in your spirits. Now, why don't we go back down?"
"I don't feel like that. Don't worry. You continue, I'll be in my room."
"Done then. We'll celebrate your birthday in your room." I stood, giving her a hand.
"I—"
"Don't worry. It'll be just us. And your maids, I guess, if you feel like it. I'll have the cake brought up. Till then why don't you change into something comfortable." She looked down at her dress, her expression turning back to solemn, her hand getting lost in the many layers of her cream dress. "Seriously, how can you all walk in these clothes is beyond my imagination. Or run in those footwear!" I recalled her running away. She was a good runner, even in heels. I didn't expect that.
It appeared that there was more to Kriss than I'd let see myself. She proved that in the hour that I spent with her in her room along with her maids.
Just like America, she was also good with her maids and treated them with respect. An just like America's maids, they all giggled when they saw me. I'd asked Justin to bring a small cake from the kitchen. He'd brought a chocolate cheesecake which made the sore mood of Kriss turn into pleasant. I realized she too loved eating like America.
We both celebrated her birthday by trying to remove the stain of her cream dress. I tried my best to help her, but she swatted my hand away. In the end we both resigned and let her maids do their job.
I have her the gifts when I was in the door. Almost an hour had past since the accident. Though bshe as still angry at Celeste, she wasn't remorseful so I finally decided to leave. "I know it's not much, but I hope you like them."
"Thank you so much, Maxon." She murmured, taking the gifts.
I was glad she was smiling by the time she closed the door.
While on the second floor I thought about going in America's room, but I stopped in my track when a guard told me I was needed in my father's office. "He said it's urgent."
I sighed and left for his office.
At least I now knew what I was dealing with when it came to America.
Now it was just my father I had to deal with.