A/N: Hello! You get an early chapter, because I was up at 5 AM to do homework, and now I'm procrastinating. You're welcome. This chapter is fairly identical to the one in The Elite, but there are a few little Easter eggs! Back to more original stuff next week. Also, I've posted this over on archiveofourown .org, if anyone would like to read it over there! I haven't posted all the chapters yet, but I would guess that I'll be caught up over there in a week and a half or so. Posting is much harder over there :/ That's all from me, thanks for reading!
It's Monday night. Or Tuesday morning. It's so late, it's hard to tell.
Kriss and I worked all day finding appropriate swaths of fabric, picking china, creating a rough draft of the menu, and listening to a language coach speak lines in Italian to us in the hope that some of it would stick. At least I have the advantage of knowing Spanish, which helps me pick it up faster; they are so similar. Kriss is just doing all she can to keep up.
I finally fall into bed, passing out immediately. I told Maxon not to come because I needed to sleep, but I miss our nighttime conversations all the same.
The next day flies by, and suddenly Kriss and I are arriving at the other girls' reception in conservative gray dresses.
"What's the plan?" Kriss asks as we walk down the hall.
I consider for a moment. I dislike Celeste and wouldn't mind seeing her fail, but I'm not sure I want her to do it on this grand a scale. "Be polite, but not helpful. Watch Silvia and the queen for cues. Absorb everything we can… and work all night to make ours better."
"Alright." She sighs. "Let's go."
We are on time, as is crucial to the culture, and the girls are already a mess. It is like Celeste is sabotaging herself. Where Elise and Natalie are in respectable deep blues, Celeste's dress is practically white. Put a veil on her, and this is a wedding. Not to mention how revealing it is, especially when she stands next to any of the German women. Most of them are wearing sleeves to their wrists despite the warm weather.
Natalie has been put in charge of the flowers and missed the detail that lilies are traditionally used at funerals. All the flower arrangements have to be removed hastily.
Elise, though clearly more agitated than she usually is, appears to be the image of calm. To our guests, she will look like the star.
It is intimidating, trying so hard to communicate with the women from the German Federation- who speak very broken English- particularly when I have so much Italian in my brain. I try to be hospitable; and despite their severe appearance, the ladies are actually quite friendly.
I'm glad I asked Silvia for some tips about their customs. I'm going to have to plan one of these on my own someday- might as well impress them when they aren't expecting perfection from me. Silvia was a little shocked that I asked; I think I'll remember the look on her face for the next ten years.
It becomes clear pretty quickly that the true threat of disaster is Silvia and her clipboard. While the queen graciously aids the girls in hosting the German guests, Silvia walks the perimeter of the room,her sharp eyes missing nothing. It seems she has pages of notes before the event has ended. Kriss and I quickly realize that our only hope is to have Silvia fall in love with our reception.
The next morning, Kriss comes into my room with her maids, and we get ready together. We want to make an effort to look similar enough so it is clear we are in charge but not so much alike we look silly. It is kind of fun having so many girls in my room. The maids all know one another, and they talk animatedly behind us as they work. It reminds me of how things felt when May was here.
Hours before our guests are supposed to arrive, Kriss and I make our way to the parlor to double-check everything one last time. Unlike the other reception, we are forgoing place cards and letting our guests sit wherever they like. The band comes to practice in the space, and as a lucky bonus, it seems our choice of fabric to cover the bland walls makes for great acoustics.
I straighten Kriss' necklace as we quiz each other on the conversational phrases one last time. She sounds very natural speaking Italian.
"Thank you," she says.
"Grazie," I answer.
"No, no," she replies, facing me. "I mean thank you. You did an amazing job in this, and… I don't know. I thought that after Marlee, you might give up. I was afraid that I'd be doing this alone, but you've worked so hard. You've done great."
"Thanks. You have, too. I don't know if I would have survived if I had to work with Celeste. You made it almost easy." Kriss smiles. I mean it, too. She is tireless. "And you're right; it's been hard without Marlee, but I won't quit. This is going to be great."
Kriss bites her lip and considers for a moment Quickly, as if she might lose her nerve, she speaks. "So you're still competing then? You still want Maxon?"
Why does it always have to come to this? I tilt my head, weighing my desire to get Kriss to stop going after Maxon and me like this against the need to keep everything secret. I raise my eyes to her and just before I decide what to say, Silvia comes rushing in.
"Girls!" Silvia trills. I've never been so grateful to see that woman. "It's nearly time. Are you ready?"
Behind her, the queen comes in, a soothing calm to balance Silvia's energy. She studies the room, admiring our work. It is a huge relief to see her smile.
"Almost ready," Kriss says. "We just have a few details to take care of. One we specifically need you and the queen for."
"Oh?" Silvia says curiously.
The queen approaches us then, her dark eyes warm with pride. "It's beautiful. And you both look stunning."
"Thank you," we chorus. The pale blue dresses with large gold accents were my idea. Festive and lovely, but not too over the top.
"Well, you might notice our necklaces," Kriss says. "We thought that if they were similar, it would help people identify us as hosts." I had to trade my songbird out for the small gold swirl, but I refused to take off Maxon's.
"Excellent idea," Silvia says, scribbling on her clipboard.
Kriss and I smile at each other. "Since you are both hosts here, too, we thought you should have ones as well," I say as Kriss pulls the boxes off the table.
"You didn't!" The queen gasps.
"For… for me?" Silvia asks.
"Of course," Kriss says sweetly, handing over the jewelry.
"You've both been so helpful. This is your project, too," I add.
I can see how touched the queen is by our gesture, but Silvia is completely speechless. I suddenly wonder if anyone at the palace ever gives her any kind of attention. Yes, we thought up the idea yesterday as a way to get Silvia on our side, but I'm glad we did it for more than just that now.
Silvia might be overwhelming, but she does try to do all this instruction for our benefit. I vow to do a better job of thanking her
A butler tells us our guests are arriving, and Kriss and I stand on either side of the double doors to welcome people as they come. The band starts playing softly in the background, maids begin circulating with hors d'oeuvres, and we are ready.
Elise, Celeste, and Natalie are walking toward us, surprisingly on time. Once they catch sight of our setup- the billowing fabric covering the drab walls, the sparkling centerpieces towering on our tables, the overflowing flowers- there is a clear ache in the eyes of Elise and Celeste. Natalie, however, is too excited to be bothered.
"It smells like the gardens," she says with a sigh, practically dancing into the room.
"A bit too much like it," Celeste adds. "You're going to give people a headache." Leave her to find fault with something beautiful.
"Try to sit at different tables," Kriss suggests as they pour past. "The Italians are here to make friends."
Celeste sucks her teeth, acting as if this is putting her out. I want to tell her to pull it together: We were on our best behavior for her reception. But then I hear the warm buzzing conversation of the Italian women as they come down the hall and forget all about her.
The best way to describe the Italian ladies is statuesque. They are tall, golden skinned, and absolutely beautiful. As if that isn't enough, they are all so good-natured. It is like they carry the sun inside their souls and let it shine out on everything around them.
The Italian monarchy is even younger than Illéa's. They've been closed off to our attempts at friendship for decades, according to the packet I read, and this is the only time they've ever reached out to us. This meeting is the first step toward a closer relationship with a growing government. A relationship that will mainly grow while I am queen. It's been frightening to think about until the moment they walk through the doorway, and their kindness melts my worries. They kiss Kriss and me on both cheeks and yell "Salve!" I happily try to match their level of enthusiasm.
I botch some of my Italian phrases, but our visitors are gracious, laughing off my mistakes and helping to correct me. Their English is impressive, and we dote on one another's hairstyles and dresses. It seems we've made a good first impression appearance-wise, and that helps me relax.
I end up settling in for most of the party next to Orabella and Noemi, two of the princess' cousins.
"This is delicious!" Orabella cries, raising her glass of wine.
"We're glad you like it," I reply, worrying that I am coming across as too shy. They are so loud when they talk.
"You must have some!" she insists. I haven't had anything to drink since Halloween, and I'm not very fond of alcohol in the first place. I don't want to be rude, though, so I take the glass she hands me and sip.
It is incredible. Champagne is all bubbles; but the deep, red wine has several flavors overlapping, each coming to the forefront in its own time.
"Mmmm," I sigh.
"Now, now," Noemi says, drawing my attention to her. "This Maxon, he is handsome. How can I get into the Selection?"
"A heap of paperwork," I joke.
"That's all? Where's my pen?"
Orabella cuts in. "I will take some of this paper, too. I would love to take Maxon home with me."
I laugh. "Trust me, it's a bit of a mess in here."
"You need more wine," Noemi insists.
"Absolutely!" Orabella seconds, and they call over a butler to refill my glass.
"Have you ever been to Italy?" Noemi asks.
I shake my head. "Before the Selection, I'd never even left my province."
"You must come!" Orabella insists. "You can stay with me anytime."
"You always hog the company," Noemi complains. "She stays with me."
I feel the wine warming me all over, and their excitement is making me almost too happy.
"So, is he a good kisser?" Noemi asks.
I choke a little on the sip I am taking, pulling the glass away to laugh. I'm trying not to give too much away, but they know.
"How good?" Orabella demands. When I don't answer, she waves her hand. "Have some more wine!" she exclaims
I point an accusing finger at them, realizing what they are doing. "You two are nothing but trouble!"
They throw back their heads laughing, and I can't help but join them. Admittedly, girl talk is much more tempting when we aren't all competing for the same boy, but I can't get too drawn into this.
I stand to leave before I end up passed out under the table. "He's very romantic. When he wants to be," I say. They clap and laugh as I begin walking away. Before I get too far, I turn back to wink. "And he's quite good."
They howl with laughter as I walk away, smiling at how playful they are.
After I get some water and food in me, I play some of the folk songs I learned on my violin, and most of the room sings along. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Silvia taking notes and tapping her foot to the beat at the same time.
When Kriss gets up and proposes a toast to the queen and Silvia for their help, the room applauds them. When I raise my glass to our guests, they shriek with delight, downing their glasses and then throwing them against the walls. Kriss and I aren't expecting that and shrug before tossing ours as well.
The poor maids scuttle around to clean the shattered pieces as the band starts up again and the whole room begins to dance. Perhaps the highlight is Natalie on top of the table, doing some kind of dance that makes her look like an octopus.
Queen Amberly sits in a corner, speaking jovially with the Italian queen. I feel a rush of accomplishment at the sight and am so engrossed, I nearly jump when Elise addresses me.
"Yours is better," she says reluctantly but genuinely. "You two really pulled together an incredible reception."
"Thanks. I was worried for awhile- we got off to such a bad start."
"I know. That makes it even more impressive. It looks like you two have been working for weeks." She looks around the room, staring longingly at the bright decor.
I place a hand on her shoulder. "You know, Elise, anyone could see yesterday that you worked the hardest on your team. I'm sure Silvia will make sure Maxon knows that."
"You think?"
"Of course. Anyone could see that."
Elise smiles over my shoulder, and I turn to see the Italian princess coming toward us
"Pardon me. Can I have the hostess, please?" she asks in her lovely accent.
Elsie gives her a curtsy before heading back to the dancing, and I turn to focus on the person I am supposed to be trying to impress.
"Princess Nicoletta, I'm sorry we haven't gotten to speak much today," I say, giving her a curtsy myself.
"Oh, no! You've been very busy. My cousins, they love you!"
I laugh. "They're very funny."
Nicoletta pulls me into a corner of the room. "We've been hesitant to make bonds with Illéa. Our people are much… freer than yours."
"I can see that."
"No, no," she says seriously. "I mean, in personal freedoms. They enjoy more than you. You have the castes still, yes?"
Suddenly understanding that this is more than a friendly conversation, I nod.
"We watch, of course. We see what happens here. The riots, the rebels. It seems people are not happy?"
"Your Highness, I don't know if I'm the best person to talk to about this. I don't really control anything."
Nicoletta takes my hands. "But you could."
A shiver runs through. Do they know somehow? No, she said "could", not "will".
"We saw what happened to the girl. The blonde?" she whispers.
"Marlee," I nod. "She was my best friend."
She smiles. "And we saw you. There's not much footage, but we saw you run. We saw you fight."
The look in her eyes mirrors the way Queen Amberly looked at me before. There is unmistakable pride there.
"We are very much interested in forming a bond with a powerful nation, if that nation can change. Unofficially, if there is anything we can do to help you acquire the crown, let us know. You have our full support."
She crams a piece of paper into my hand and walks away. As she turns her back, she shouts out something in Italian, so I quickly shove the note in my bra, praying that no one will notice.
Our reception goes on much longer than the first, and I suspect it is because our guests are too happy to actually leave. Still, for as lengthy as it is, the whole thing passes in a blur.
Hours later, I head back to my room completely worn out. I am much too full to even think about dinner, and though it is early in the evening, the idea of going straight to bed is very appealing.
Before I can even look at my bed, however, Anne comes to me with a note from Maxon, berating me for cancelling our date last night and demanding I go to him tonight. I smile, knowing he's just being dramatic, but I don't think I have the energy to drag myself up to the third floor, not even for Maxon.
I quickly scribble a response on a notepad profusely apologizing, begging to reschedule for tomorrow after breakfast. I promise two dates tomorrow, if he only lets me sleep. I know he'll say yes if he can, but just to make double sure, I sign it "Love, your dear(est)". I hand it back to Anne.
"Will you get this back to him? I'll get ready for bed on my own tonight."
Anne gives me a short curtsy and a wink.
As I get undressed and pull on a night dress, I notice the note Nicoletta gave me sitting on top of the pile of my clothes.
Nicoletta! I completely forgot. I unfold it and promptly drop it on the floor. It's a telephone number. She didn't even put her name on it.
I can't imagine how much she is risking to make that offer.
I decide to put the slip into my penny jar pushed to the back drawer of my nightstand. No one will ever look there, so it feels safe enough.
So far I have my dad, Maxon, Nicoletta, and Queen Amberly all agreeing that I might be just what Illéa needs. Maybe they're right. Maybe I will be good at this. Maybe Maxon and I together will be the best team Illéa has ever seen.