Author's Note: Hello! I am so sorry that it has been absolutely forever. School has been absolutely insane this semester, as I've actually begun appearing in court. Luckily, we've reached finals, so I should have much more time after the end of the semester. I fully intend to finish this story, as well as IWESTS, so please be assured that I have not given up on them.
This chapter was a bit of a struggle, and I don't think it's my best, but let me know what you thought/if you're even still interested in this story haha. If anyone read Holding last year, you'll remember at Christmas I did a "7 Days of Christmas" and updated every day. I'm going to do that again this year, but reviews and feedback are really important since I don't have any of those chapters prewritten and it's hard to write every day if it feels like no one is really into it anymore.
If anyone has any standout favorites, I'm always up to hear who they are :D
As Lydia quickly found out, there were pros and cons to hosting a Selection.
One of the pros was that she discovered the workload sent her way by her father had greatly diminished, as she had suspected it would. For the time being, her breakfast tray wasn't accompanied by stacks of tax documents or legislature in need of review, which she was immensely thankful for. It was much easier for her to justify dashing off to Naomi's tower after she'd grabbed her orange juice and a piece of toast without work hanging over her head.
Unfortunately, there were cons that she hadn't anticipated. While the country no longer demanded her attention, she found that in its place were a million trivial, seemingly unimportant inquiries that Bex and Aunt Avery constantly supplied to her. Her aunt had begun to go as far as bringing Lydia's breakfast to her room herself so that she could catch her niece before she disappeared into thin air. The first few days after the Selection's commencement, Lydia tried to combat it by waking earlier, but Avery rose to the occasion and always managed to arrive before Lydia could slip away.
The third morning after the Selected had arrived, Lydia was in her bathroom before the sun rose, slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when her aunt and friend arrived together. They walked in without knocking, causing Lydia to almost fall over in shock given that her legs were still tangled in the pants. She glared at the pair.
"This is getting ridiculous," she declared.
"What's ridiculous is the fact that you haven't taken that Viking on a date yet," retorted Bex.
"Or anyone," added Aunt Avery. "Here, have a muffin."
Lydia resentfully accepted the oatmeal and cranberry muffin. "What?" she asked through a full mouth when she noticed Bex's eyes inspecting her.
"What are you wearing?" Bex asked, her nose wrinkled.
"I was going to take Bex the dog for a walk," Lydia lied, partially only to irritate her friend. Bex could be a little testy over the fact that she had served as Cohen's labradoodle's namesake.
Aunt Avery ignored the quip. "What do you think about going on a date today?" she suggested. She used an upbeat tone, the one that Lydia noticed she usually reserved for children.
She wanted to groan, "Do I have to?" but instead, she settled for a grimace. "I mean, I'm going to see them all at dinner tonight anyway," she pointed out.
"What an effective dating method," snorted Bex.
"Don't normal people go to dinner for dates all the time?" countered Lydia. "Why can't I do it too?"
"Yeah, not with twenty-something different guys at once though," Bex pointed out, "and their parents, siblings, closest friends, family fairies, and whatever noble is floating around their enormous castle that day aren't usually invited either."
"Ah, so the Duchess of Sonage last night was too much?" quipped Lydia.
Bex and Avery both ignored her. Instead, her aunt gave her a wide smile, and Lydia could feel her irritation with both fade cleanly away, leaving in its place an odd desire: it felt like she wanted to spend time with the Selected, like there was nothing that sounded better than the date that Bex and Avery had suggested…
She pushed the feelings away and glared at her aunt. "Not fair."
Avery smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
They both knew it was a lie. Like all members of the royal family, Avery had been given a gift by the fairies when she was a child. Iris had once explained to Lydia that powers often enhanced or drew upon on an inherent tendency or skill that a person already possessed, and often, Lydia wondered whether her aunt's natural charisma affected people or if she used her empathic manipulation more regularly than she let on.
Currently, she knew it was the power, and if it weren't for her own healing abilities, she'd be completely helpless to the desire to spend time with the Selected that her aunt had inspired. "I promise I'll go see them later," she insisted, "There's just some things that I have to take care of first."
It seemed to be enough for Avery and Bex, and Lydia managed to shake them off a half hour later. She was later than she liked when she slipped off the fairies' wing and was unsurprised to find them all crowded around Naomi's bed when she arrived.
"How is she?" Lydia asked, her stomach a tight knot of fear.
"Stable," Hazel announced before Iris or Tallulah could try to embellish Naomi's condition so Lydia didn't worry.
The tower was steadily beginning to look more like a hospital room. Tubes and needles now led from the battered princess's arms to beeping machines. A plethora of vitamins, antibiotics, and supplements were laid out on Naomi's nightstand. But there was only so much medicine could do. The bruises had continued to grow, now working their way from Naomi's fingertips to her knuckles. A hollowness had carved out the once beautiful princess's face. It was hard for Lydia to touch Naomi anymore, because all she felt was a constantly increasing iciness.
If it wasn't for Hazel's heavy gaze, Lydia would have grabbed Naomi's arm and healed her until she physically couldn't any longer. But Hazel seemed to be aware of this and watched Lydia until she sunk into a chair in the corner of the room. "What are we going to do?" she sighed, her face buried in her hands.
"Did you read the Selected's files?" she added when none of the fairies responded. "Does it seem like anyone could help?"
"Well, Rowan Dagwood is, of course, interesting," Tallulah confessed, "given his profession and power." Lydia recalled that Rowan possessed toxikinesis.
"But Naomi hasn't been poisoned, she's been cursed," countered Hazel, "so you'd have to trust him with the truth of Naomi's condition on the off chance that he might be able to help."
Just the thought of telling any of the Selected about Naomi and the lengths that they had gone to in order to conceal her situation made Lydia nauseous. "What about any of the fire powers?" she asked. "Agnimitra is a fire fairy. Maybe…"
"We considered that as well," nodded Hazel grimly. "Leif Wolff is the most obvious, of course, being that he is pyrokinetic. But there's also Alistair Lockwood, and I suspect Shivaay Blake."
"Nightmare inducement and heat manipulation," Lydia recited, recalling what she'd read of the boys' respective files.
"All gifted from a fire fairy, most likely," continued Hazel, "but none directly helpful, since they aren't casting powers that could formulate a counter-curse."
Lydia growled in frustration. "But no one has casting powers except for fairies," she pointed out, "so why aren't we talking to them?"
"We're trying," Iris interjected. "Curses are the most difficult magical projections, and Agnimitra was remarkably powerful."
Hazel cut her off with a glare, and Iris fell silent in a way that made Lydia's brow furrow. The earth fairy seemed to notice her interest and dismissively noted, "We're still looking in to a few things. Don't worry too much yet."
A tense silence settled upon the four, only broken when Tallulah offered a small, pink vial to Lydia. The princess hesitantly took it. "What is it?"
"Hope," Tallulah answered simply. Similar to Aunt Avery, who Tallulah had imbued with her power decades ago, emotional manipulation was the water fairy's specialty. Lydia didn't hesitate to drink the potion, realizing that if she'd ever needed a dose of hope, it was probably now.
She felt the effects immediately. "Maybe there's something in the library," she mused, "I've been researching counter-curses, but if we need a different spell altogether—"
"The library will be there later," Iris interjected, her smile wide beneath her hooked nose. "You should take some time to spend with the boys!"
Not even the Tallulah's liquid hope could make Lydia think about the remaining Selected without a small bit of reluctance though. "Uh…"
"She's right," Hazel agreed, a rarity it seemed lately, since Naomi's condition had caused a decent amount of friction amongst the fairies. "You wanted this Selection to buy us time to help Naomi, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah," began Lydia.
"We're not going to have that if there's just two dozen more people wondering where you're sneaking off to at all hours of the day," reasoned Tallulah. "So, go! Try to have a little fun."
She might've fought a little more if it weren't for the optimism that she couldn't shake and the ideas that were already swirling in her mind. So, she made them promise they'd send for her if there were any break throughs—as always—and with a general plan developing in her brain, she headed towards the second floor of the palace where the Selected's rooms were located.
The guard that was posted outside the door bowed to her, and Lydia smiled in return. She'd grown so used to being shadowed by guards almost her entire life that she felt that sometimes she forgot they were there and overlooked them, so she felt bad that she didn't know this particular officer's name. He seemed to notice her hesitation and offered, "Officer Dombkowski, Your Highness."
"Nice to formally meet you," Lydia smiled, "Do you know if Ozzie—uh, Sir Ozzie?—is up yet?"
"Should be," nodded the guard. "He just got back from his run." Lydia was impressed, given how early it was. She was certainly never the type to pull herself out of bed early for exercise, even before Naomi's accident. Officer Dombkowski knocked on the door, and a butler that Lydia recognized well appeared at the door.
"Hello, Gregorio!" she smiled brightly.
"Your Highness." Gregorio's bow was much more formal and reserved than Officer Dombkowski's, but it was evident that he was proud she'd recognized him.
"How'd you get stuck down here?" chuckled Lydia. A butler of Gregorio's experience was usually reserved for royal or political visitors.
Gregorio tried not to grimace, but Lydia wasn't fooled. "I'm happy for any assignment," Gregorio offered.
Lydia almost laughed, as she could tell that Gregorio was trying to convince himself as well as her, but instead she just asked, "Is Ozzie up?"
"Of course, Your Highness." He beckoned Lydia into the room and then called, "Sir Dijon?"
"How many times do I gotta tell ya, Greg the Second, Ozzie is—Oh." Ozzie paused before his hand jumped into his long, dark hair, and an easy smile tugged at his face. "Princess Lydia." He bowed with good form, though he added an exaggerated flourish that made her chuckle.
"Just Lydia," she corrected, as she had for days. She knew there was no way the Selected could be aware, but every time someone used her title, it reminded her of Naomi. Her older sister had always managed to graciously embrace her role as princess without making people feel uncomfortable. Lydia had never been quite sure how to reconcile being a princess among regular people.
"This is a pleasant surprise, Just Lydia," Ozzie noted. His statement reminded Lydia that she hadn't yet visited any of the Selected individually. The Lydia of a few years earlier might've felt awkward because of it, but present Lydia was rarely troubled by situations that discomforted the average person. Regardless of the circumstances, she always had Naomi to remind her that she had much bigger problems.
With a smile, she explained, "I was hoping you could help me."
Ozzie's eyebrows arched, conveying a mixture of surprise and interest. "Oh?"
"I wanted to welcome everyone to Angeles," she explained, "Show them around a little. I thought, since you're from Angeles too, you might be able to help me come up with some popular spots for a tour."
An easy grin tugged at the corners of Ozzie's mouth. "I'm definitely your man," he agreed. "But clearly, we should hit up an Angeles highlight to get some inspiration flowing."
It turned out that Ozzie's "Angeles highlight" was a small little shop called "The Juice Boost." Lydia had never been one to keep herself holed up in the palace—and hadn't needed to, since she'd had a fair amount of free time when she was the spare—but in the last few years, her visits around Angeles had greatly diminished. She suspected "The Juice Boost" had been built sometime recently, since she'd never heard of it before.
"This is going to be the best coffee you've ever had," Ozzie promised her as he led the way into the shop.
Lydia guessed that Ozzie had spent a lot of time in the juice store before the Selection, because when the man behind the counter saw him, he declared, "Holy shit, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
"Hey, language, Joseph," Ozzie grinned, "You're in the presence of a lady."
Lydia cringed. "Oh, no, it's really fine—"
But the damage was done, and Joseph's eyes grew to the size of saucers before he fell to a knee. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness. Can I get you anything at all? On the house, of course, and once again, my apologies—"
"It's really fine," Lydia assured him, trying not to glance around. She could feel the eyes on her though and heard the whispers of "the princess."
This was what she'd never been any good at. People had never been interested in her until Naomi was gone. And while Naomi had experienced a life time of politely shrugging off attention and graciously indulging when she had the time, Lydia had just been expected to figure it out over night and on her own. Resultingly, she didn't exactly excel, especially when she was on the spot.
Luckily, it usually started with the children first. They would cautiously approach, eyeing Lydia's guard and with their parents at their backs for confidence. Lydia could talk to children. They didn't scare her.
And she did when she felt the first little hand brush at her sweater. Her guard looked uncomfortable by the little girl's close proximity to Lydia, but the juice shop wasn't exactly enormous, so Lydia gave him a reassuring smile before she turned to the girl.
Usually, they wanted pictures, sometimes hugs, all of which Lydia was more than happy to comply with. She truly liked kids. But it inevitably started a trend. When the families left with their trophies, they would let the random passerby know in their excitement, and before she knew what had happened, the juice shop was crowded with people who weren't even remotely interested in juice. She apologized to Ozzie a few times in the beginning, but before she knew what had happened, she'd spent forty-five minutes talking to people and wasn't even sure where Ozzie was anymore.
She usually drew the line when people started telling her about some ailment that they would inevitably ask her to heal for them. It created an uncomfortable situation for Lydia, though she knew why they did it. It was a natural question. If she had an injury or sickness and met someone with the power to heal it, she might have asked to. And she did try to use her power to help people as often as she could, visiting hospitals whenever her parents agreed. But it made her uncomfortable when she was accosted by a request, or when it was something she knew she couldn't heal anyway.
Her guard, a burly man named Phil, knew this was the sign as well, and he ushered her out of the shop just after a soccer player was telling her about his particularly troublesome case of plantar fasciitis. She let out an enormous breath when she discovered Ozzie and Officer Dombkowski waiting outside for them. "I'm sorry," she sighed, "Hazard of the job."
Ozzie didn't look surprised or thrown off though. "No problem," he shrugged. He held out a cardboard cup to her. "Here. I grabbed some to go."
Lydia beamed as she accepted the drink from him. She took a tentative sip, and her smile quickly faded. "Mmm." She tried not to grimace, but the drink was probably the most bitter, disgusting liquid she'd ever encountered.
To her surprise, Ozzie laughed. "Wow, so you don't like coffee?"
"I'd never had it before," she admitted, trying to swallow away the disgusting aftertaste, "but I guess not."
"Never had it?" This time, he did seem shocked. "Where have you been living all these years? Under a rock?"
Lydia laughed and held the drink back out to him. He took it and wasted no time in taking a big gulp. Clearly, he did not share her opinion on coffee. "My mom is kind of a health nut," she explained with a shrug. "Caffeine, sugar, dairy, red meat, processed foods, the whole nine yards."
His forehead wrinkled in concern. "Holy crap. Are you okay? Do you need junk food, like, immediately since we've already broken out of jail?"
"That's a kind offer, but I think I'm okay," she giggled. "You kind of get used to it. Although Cohen and I do try to sneak cake on occasion. It's kind of my weakness."
"Any kind in particular?" Ozzie asked.
"Any," admitted Lydia. "You don't get picky when you only get it every blue moon."
"And here we all think you're just living in luxury up at the palace," snorted Ozzie.
"Upside to the Selection is it's definitely loosened up the diet restrictions," she confided. "Although I promise you there is no way in heck the pancakes are made with real sugar."
Ozzie gave a dramatic gasp. "What a scandal."
She glanced around. "So, this tour," she reminded him, "Got any ideas?"
Ozzie winked and dragged a hand through his wavy hair. "Do I ever." Without an ounce of hesitation, he took Lydia's hand and started to lead her down the sidewalk, already talking a mile a minute.
They made it back in time for lunch, and Lydia decided to have it served in the Men's Parlor so she could invite them on that afternoon's tour.
Guards were posted outside the Men's Parlor, more for effect than because they were necessary, and one of them requested entrance for Lydia. Because it was supposed to be the reciprocal version of the Women's Room, she had to wait outside before someone said it was okay for her to come in, which she found an interesting situation. She couldn't remember a single instance in her childhood where something had been off limits to her. She'd enjoyed taunting Cohen about the fact that he couldn't go into the Women's Room far too often when they were younger and figured this was probably what she deserved.
The Selected looked pleasantly surprised when she (or their lunch) entered. "Hi, everyone," she smiled, a little uncomfortable with all the attention turned towards her. "Uh, I brought lunch." She pointed towards the carts of food in hopes that it would take some of the eyes off her.
Pascal made the first move, gasping loudly. "Is that pizza?!"
Lydia grimaced. "Uh… yes, but if I know my mom, it probably has a cauliflower base instead of dough, so proceed with caution."
Pascal put a hand on his chest as he examined the now offensive item. "The audacity."
The cauliflower pizza wasn't as problematic as she expected though, and soon, she found herself wedged between Charlie and Leif on a couch as Skadi brought her things to try from the lunch cart. She dutifully ate whatever Skadi served, though she did feel a little bad for Baloo, whose eyes followed the little girl as she dashed back and forth. The dog was ever the professional though and remained at Fallon's side without the slightest twitch.
When she finally managed to convince Skadi that she couldn't possibly eat anymore—with a little help from Leif—she turned the attention towards their plan for the afternoon. "So, are you guys busy today?"
There was a snort from the corner of the room where Alistair Lockwood sat with his long legs crossed and a sketchbook in his lap. He hadn't partaken much in lunch, aside from a small plate of cheese and fruit that he paired with a glass of red wine. Lydia remembered that his family was prolific in the wine industry and hoped that the palace's stores were up to his standards. "Well, we don't really do much when you're not around," he pointed out. He wrinkled his nose at the large television that hung above the fireplace. "Aside from the truly riveting video game marathons."
Lydia giggled at his sarcasm. "Well, good," she declared, "because I want to take you all out."
Pascal arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "All of us? Scandalous."
"If you'd like to come," she offered. "It's not required, but I thought it would be fun." She held out the pamphlets that she'd quickly come up with that explained their itinerary.
Everyone decided to go, although there were varying levels of excitement. Skadi didn't seem to fully understand the purpose, but when she saw the bright red double decker bus, that was enough for her. They all took seats on the top level, and Lydia was glad that the sun was out and the weather was pleasant. She sat alone in the front row at first, trying to formulate a plan for the afternoon. She needed efficiency, since she wasn't sure how much time she'd have to devote to the guys for the rest of the week. As always, Naomi took priority.
In the beginning, she decided to stay in the front alone and offered answers to any questions that were posed about their landmarks. For security purposes, they weren't actually exiting the bus, but whenever everyone seemed particularly interested, she made a mental note for future reference.
Although she had thought of the tour as a fun way to welcome the Selected to Angeles, when Lydia noticed that the seat next to Rowan Dagwood was empty, she was suddenly much more thankful for the fortuitous situation she found herself in. After discussing the Selected with fire related powers with the fairies earlier, her curiosity had been sparked, regardless of Hazel's stance that they likely wouldn't be much help. Steadying herself against the double decker bus's movement, she made her way towards Rowan.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked. She'd tried not to sneak up on him, but Rowan jumped at the sound of her voice anyway.
He smiled when he realized it was her. "Not at all."
"What do you think so far?" she asked as she settled herself beside him.
"Oh, it's interesting," Rowan replied, gesturing with the little pamphlet that described the tour spots. "Good mixture of history and entertainment."
"Ozzie helped," Lydia explained, "I came up with the history, he was the entertainment."
"Do you hike at all?" Rowan asked, nodding at the shadow of mountain tops that were visible in the distance. One of Lydia's favorite things about Angeles had always been the varied landscapes. There were beaches, mountains, snow even if you went far enough east towards the border of Fennley.
"I used to," she admitted with a wistful smile. She thought about all the time she used to spend flying over the province and a deep ache erupted in her chest. She tried to ignore it. "Do you?"
Rowan nodded. "There are a lot of forests in Belcourt," he explained, "I spend a lot of time in them for work."
She was happy that he'd brought it up so naturally, as his work was exactly what she wanted to discuss. "Toxikinesis is an interesting power," she commented, "I've never met someone with it."
Rowan's easy smile faltered for a moment. He recovered easily and quipped, "I've never met a healer."
She smiled ruefully. "Touché."
After a moment of silence between them, Rowan added, "It is helpful in my work, I suppose. What about you? I can't imagine that much cause for healing comes up in your daily life."
"Just to combat my own clumsiness," she admitted. "Sometimes, I visit hospitals and animal shelters and things like that. I never really considered using it at as a profession though."
"I suppose it seems unimportant when your job has already been decided for you," Rowan agreed. He paused, as though he wasn't sure of his statement. "Uh, sorry if that was rude."
"No, not at all," shrugged Lydia. "You're right. A lot of things are already laid out for me." At least until Naomi wakes up, she reassured herself. "Which makes other people's jobs a lot more interesting to me," she added, eager to learn more about this toxikinesis and whether it would be of any assistance to her.
"Well, perhaps sometime this week we can take a hike and I could show you in person?" suggested Rowan.
For as quiet as he was, Lydia was impressed with how easy conversation came to Rowan once you got him talking. "That sounds great," she agreed, feeling triumphant. "I'll figure out a day and get back to you."
As the tour continued on, she split her time between a few of the other guys so she had something to offer the next time Bex and Aunt Avery badgered her. While most of the guys seemed interested in the tour, Shivaay Armstrong was the kind of excited that was infectious and drew Lydia to him. She hadn't meant for the zoo to be included on the tour, but they had driven past it out of necessity, and after that, Shiv told her all about his parakeets: Pinku, Violet, Cheezits, and Birdo. Lydia made a mental note to take Shiv to the famous aviary that her mother had loved to take them to as children.
She also spent time with Creed Rosario, who was laid back and easy to talk to. When they came up to the legendary Port of Angeles, Creed told her about the different ports that he'd seen during his time as a cruise ship director. Lydia had never been on a cruise—royal yachts, of course, but an actual cruise was outside of the realm of possibility for her—and listened to his stories attentively.
By the time the bus slowed in front of the palace, they'd seen famous movie studios, theaters, beaches, the Central Angeles Public Library, botanical gardens, restaurants, and numerous other landmarks, like the Duke of Angeles' infamously gaudy mansion. It had been a pleasant afternoon, and it gave them all something to talk about, some kind of common ground, which Lydia was grateful for. She'd begun to develop an idea of who she would spent time with next—some out of necessity, whether it was their power or because she was unsure whether she had much chemistry with them; and some, because she genuinely enjoyed their presence. As she thought of this latter group, her eyes unconsciously drifted towards Gabriel Alba, who she hadn't gotten to spend time with. She was sad about it, because he'd kept everyone around him laughing and smiling all afternoon.
The bus unloaded, and Lydia was about to head back into the palace when she noticed one frown conspicuously absent. Joey hadn't filed out with everyone else, and Lydia lingered behind as Joey limped down the stairs. She could hear his injured leg hitting harder against the aluminum steps than his good leg, and she momentarily regretted the double decker bus. While it seemed fun at the time, she felt inconsiderate now.
When Joey finally made it off the bus to see her waiting for him, his brow furrowed. "Didn't have to stay behind," he muttered. He didn't stop to talk and instead kept walking towards the front of the palace.
Lydia had to take a few quick steps to catch up with him. "Um, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "Maybe call a doctor? Or… well, I don't know if you knew, but that's sort of my power—"
This time, Joey did stop walking and turned to glare fully at her. "I don't need your charity."
Her jaw dropped before she could help herself. She found his surliness oddly endearing if she was being honest, but when it unexpectedly developed into full blown rudeness, she was always taken aback. She'd also never had anyone decline the assistance of her powers. "I didn't mean—"
"I'm not broken," Joey snapped, "I don't need fixed. Sorry if I don't fit into the perfect princess's perfect life—"
"You don't know anything about my life," Lydia retorted before she could help herself. She'd never had a bad temper, but there was something about Joey that she'd noticed could fire her up unlike most people.
Her tone gave him pause, and he was spared the trouble of responding when Gabriel doubled back towards them. "Everything okay?" he asked, almost like he could sense that trouble was brewing.
"Perfect, apparently," Lydia declared sarcastically. She frowned at Joey, disappointed that their interaction had gone so badly once again, before she turned on her heel and stomped back towards the palace.
She swept past all the other Selected that lingered in the entrance hall, still chatting about their afternoon, and made a beeline towards Naomi's tower. As she took the steps two at a time, she silently berated herself for wasting the afternoon. Really, that was what she got for trying to pretend like nothing was wrong and she had time do something as silly as a stupid tour around Angeles.