Chapter Five

Insult to Injury

Imogen thought she was early. After all, there were still twenty minutes until breakfast was supposed to start, and she was hoping to talk to Eden about the Selected before any of them appeared. However, when she entered the dining hall, her family was there—and a lone figure at one of the Selected tables.

From the immaculately-styled blond hair, she guessed it was Andres Porter. He barely looked up as she entered the room. Instead, his head was down, his attention seemingly on something in his lap.

"Morning," she greeted her family, taking her usual seat. She set the roll of paper from last night onto the table.

Theodore shot her a glance. "Shouldn't you be interacting with your Selected?"

"It's breakfast," she pointed out.

"Seize every opportunity you can." As if that was the end of the discussion, he turned back to Florence.

"…Breakfast hasn't even started yet."

"The Selection is a full-time responsibility."

"None of the men are here."

He nodded in Andres's direction. "Sir Porter is. Go speak to him."

Imogen gritted her teeth, standing up and resisting the urge to push her chair back so it would scrape loudly against the floor. It wouldn't do her any good. "Fine."

She strode over to where Andres was sitting and pulled out the chair next to him. "Good morning, Sir Andres."

He finally looked up. In his hands was a book with extremely small text; the cover was hidden from her sight. "Your Highness," he acknowledged with a slight dip of his head.

His face lacked even the slightest hint of a smile. Instead, his eyes were cold. Almost disinterested.

As long as Theodore's eyes were on her, she had to play the part.

"What are you reading?" she asked, gesturing to the book. That was a good starting point for this conversation she very much did not want to have before breakfast had even started.

"I'd prefer not to say."

And I'd prefer not to talk to you, but we don't always get what we want, Imogen was tempted to snark. What was with the secrecy? Was he reading something embarrassing? Scandalous?

Andres didn't look like the type to be reading Fifty Shades of Gray, so she couldn't imagine why he'd want to hide the book title. "If you say so." She shrugged, trying to copy his unbothered expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the words on the page, hoping for some clue.

Andres's voice broke her focus. "I'd appreciate it if you respected my privacy, Your Highness." She looked up and met his blue eyes. Silently reproachful, as if judging her.

To be fair, he was right. But that made Imogen more annoyed, because she wasn't about to be judged for her manners by one of the Selected.

"Forgive my curiosity, Sir Andres," she said, putting on her most saccharine smile. "After all, I can't imagine what someone like you might have to hide."

If it was possible, Andres sat up even straighter as his back stiffened. The book snapped shut, revealing an empty black cover. "Maybe you'll find out someday, Your Highness." His voice was honeyed, but the smile he gave her failed to reach his eyes. "I can't give away all my secrets now, can I?"

The audacity. Was he trying to play mind games with her? Did he think he was cool for being so mysterious? No wonder he was a lawyer.

The sound of the dining hall doors opening again made Imogen look up. Connor Clarington was walking in, with Cade Summersgill and Terrence Ki close behind. She was being saved from this painful conversation with this self-righteous twat.

Just as she was about to babble a quick excuse to Andres and fly back to her seat, Connor Clarington started making a beeline for their table. Imogen silently cursed her luck.

"Your Highness!" Connor dropped into a bow, then slipped into the chair next to her. "Good morning. How are you?"

Well, he was still her savior. Imogen smiled back at Connor, hoping Andres was getting the message. See, why can't you be more like this? "I'm doing well. How have you enjoyed the palace so far?" Charlie's advice came back to her a little too late, but hey, now was the time for mindless small talk.

"Oh, it's fascinating," Connor said. "The accommodations are great, of course."

"I'm glad you had a pleasant first night." She wished she could say the same, but she had tossed and turned all night. Sleep had never come easily to her. "I'm a little nervous this morning, to be completely honest."

"Oh?" Connor looked interested. "Why?"

"I'll conduct the first eliminations after breakfast."

Connor's eyes widened. Cade and Terrence, who had sat down at the table right Imogen and Andres, also turned to stare at her. Sneaking a glance at Andres out of the corner of her eye, she saw that even he was listening to the conversation intently.

Was that a spoiler? Probably. But considering Connor, Cade, Terrence, and Andres—unfortunately—were not on the list of men she was about to eliminate, she couldn't care less.

Now that she had dropped that bomb on them, it seemed like a good time to leave. "Well, I had better go back to my seat now. Enjoy your first breakfast at the palace." She couldn't resist adding another jab in case they weren't nervous enough already. "It may be your last."

She knew it wasn't, but the way all four of their expressions were swapped for panic amused her greatly as she returned to the Caswell table. Completely worth it.

They clearly hadn't kept quiet about it, because as the men filed into the dining hall, the room slowly became abuzz with nervous chatter. All of them were on time, which Florence nodded with approval at, but they were loud.

As Imogen tucked into her plate of pancakes, she heard a yelp of, "What?" Her gaze swiveled to the Selected tables, landing on Asher Coulter, who was staring gobsmacked at whoever was across from him.

"Can they be any louder?" she muttered to Eden.

She patted Imogen's arm sympathetically. "At least a significant number of them will be going home today."

Right. She was almost looking forward to that, as long as there weren't any waterworks. But what came after was worse: her first one-on-one date of the Selection, with whichever Selected the Council had deemed appropriate.

As breakfast came to a close, Imogen noticed that the men's eyes were all on her anyways. They were expecting an elimination at any moment now. She was ready to give it to them.

Sensing this, Theodore tapped the side of his glass with a spoon, and the room quietened. "Thank you all for joining us for breakfast today. Princess Imogen has an announcement to make."

Imogen stood, picking up the scroll. "Yes. I hope your first day at the palace was pleasant. Unfortunately, for some of you, this is where our journey together will end."

She slipped the ribbon off the edge of the scroll and unfurled the paper. "The following men will be going home today." There was no use in sugarcoating it.

One by one, she read off the twelve names on the list, feeling a sense of relief with each one. The entire time, she avoided making eye contact with the Selected. After reading the last name, she rolled up the paper again. "If your name has been mentioned, please leave the dining hall now. Your ride to the airport will be here before lunch."

Nobody moved for a tense few seconds.

She cleared her throat. "Please."

Some of the men began moving hesitantly towards the door. However, one of them stood. "We're eliminated, just like that?" he demanded. "We don't get closure? A chance to say goodbye?"

She raised an eyebrow. They'd had one conversation with her, and now they were entitled to closure?

"Please leave."

Shaking his head in disbelief, the man stormed out of the room, followed by eleven others. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to the remaining men. "Congratulations. You made it. You may also return to your rooms now."

She observed their expressions as they left. Some were noticeably subdued, speaking quietly to each other and looking anxious. Others seemed almost triumphant. Dillon locked eyes with Imogen, his face unusually serious. After all, he knew that Imogen hadn't made those decisions herself.

When the room was empty, Florence turned to her. "Your first date will be at lunch."

"Already?" Imogen couldn't help frowning.

"I think you might enjoy this one."

Enjoying something the Council was forcing her to do? Doubtful. "Who is it with?"

"Sir Clarington."

Okay, so not too bad. He'd saved her from further interaction with Andres this morning, and their conversation yesterday hadn't been painfully awkward either. There were certainly worse options. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of being right by voicing this out loud.

If her predictions were correct and Connor, with his family's car company, was indeed a Taylour pick, the Taylours must have received the privilege of choosing the first date. She wondered what that had taken.

"And what will we be doing?"

Was that a half-smile on Florence's face? "Making sushi."

Imogen knocked on the door to the Men's Room. "May I come in?"

"Who's there?" called a voice from inside.

"Princess Imogen."

The door swung open, revealing Asher Coulter's short figure. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness!" He bowed. "I didn't realize it was you—"

She brushed past him, entering the room. With twelve men gone, it was less packed than yesterday, and she could've sworn that not all the remaining Selected were present either. It was just her luck, then, that the one she was asking out hadn't been in his room. She could've avoided coming here. Some of the furniture appeared to have been moved around—and were those pillows strewn haphazardly on the sofa?

Twenty-four hours, and this room was already a mess. She was glad Rosemary wasn't there to see it.

As they all stood up hurriedly and bowed, she looked around for Connor Clarington. He was around a table with several others, holding some colorful card game in his hands.

"Sorry to disturb you—"

"Come disturb us any time you want, Your Highness," Aegon Westfall called, winking in her direction. He was lounging on a sofa at the back of the room.

She ignored him. "I'm here to ask Sir Connor out on a date."

Aegon's smile wiped clean off his face as the rest of the room collectively tensed. She heard a dramatic gasp behind her, where Asher was standing. Connor looked just surprised at the rest of them, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Me?"

"Yes." Had she stuttered?

Looking dazed, Connor set his cards down on the table and walked over to her. "Are we leaving now?"

"Yes." She turned her attention back to the other men. "Enjoy your lunch."

With no other explanation, she left the room, hoping Connor was following her. In the hallway, he popped up beside her as she heard the door close. "May I know what we'll be doing on our date?" He still looked bewildered as Officer Ortega led them downstairs.

"One of the palace chefs will teach us how to make sushi," she said, stepping slightly to the right to maintain a small distance between them. She wasn't about to go waltzing around the halls hand-in-hand with Connor.

"Sushi?" he repeated, eyes seeming to light up behind his round black glasses. "I love sushi!"

"Fantastic," Imogen responded, sure that the enthusiasm was just oozing from her voice. Would she have been allowed to eliminate him if he didn't? "Then, hopefully, you'll enjoy this activity."

"Can we make California rolls? They're my favorite."

"We'll see."

"Which type of sushi is your favorite, Your Highness?"

"I don't really have one." She stopped walking. "By the way, there will be cameras at this date," she added.

He stiffened. "Oh. That's okay," he said.

Imogen glanced towards him. "I expected you to be pretty familiar with the public eye, Sir Connor, given your family background." Clarington Motor Corps was very influential, after all, and she was sure she had read about their family somewhere before.

"Clement handles most of it," Connor said. Seeing her questioning look, he added, "My older brother. He's the heir to the company. I'm more of a background guy."

Maybe that was why he seemed more modest than Imogen had expected. There sure were a lot of wealthy heirs in the Selection.

He was still on her list for potential Taylour picks, though.

"This is also the first event of the Selection with proper cameras," he pointed out. "So, I'm a bit surprised."

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Imogen said, thinking of the numerous televised events that would happen. Ever since its inception, media had been such a large part of the Selection tradition. The public felt entitled to the private details of her life.

"That's true." Suddenly, the calmness evaporated, paving the way for a grin. "Well, I'm excited about sushi."

She mustered up a smile. At least the sushi was something to look forward to, even if the last thing she wanted to do was romance these men. "Have you made sushi before?"

"Nah."

She held back a sigh. Great. "That makes two of us."

There was a first time for everything, she supposed, including walking into a small cooking studio she had never heard of before. The shiny marble countertop, warm wooden tables, and soft overhead lights were very different from the palace's main kitchen, which felt far more industrial. There were two small windows letting light into the room, and a table sat beneath one of them. A fake potted plant rested in the center of the table, making the space seem a touch more personal.

"Officer Ortega, do you know what this room is for?" she asked. The room was far too small to be of any use to the busy kitchen staff, who probably needed the full kitchen to prepare all their meals.

"It is a private kitchen," said a voice. Imogen turned to see a kind-looking man walking into the kitchen. From head to toe, he looked the part of a fancy chef, with a white toque and apron. "It is available for any palace resident to use, as long as they reserve it beforehand. Usually, only Her Majesty uses this space." He bowed. "I am Mr. Abe, one of the sous-chefs at the palace. It is my honor to be your teacher today, Your Highness." He also bowed to Connor. "Sir Clarington."

Imogen knew that her stepmother liked to cook, but she had never imagined where. Looking around the room, it did suit Florence's taste. Very clean, simplistic, and elegant. "Thank you, Mr. Abe."

"Thank you," Connor chimed in.

Mr. Abe gestured to the stools behind the counter. "Please take a seat."

They sat down and got a closer look at what was laid out on the table: rice, nori, fish, avocados, and a plethora of other colorful ingredients.

"Today, I will be showing you how to roll sushi. You will be able to choose your own fillings. Afterward, I will leave you some time to eat." He handed them two aprons. "Please put these on and wash your hands."

As they were washing their hands, Imogen heard the sound of the cameraman coming in. It was a man she recognized from the set of the Report, who quietly set up his tripod in the corner of the room. With a room this small, every picture would turn out to be a medium close-up shot.

Mr. Abe clapped his hands together. "Now, let us begin!" He pointed to a large bowl of rice. "This is the sushi rice. It has already been cooked and seasoned for you, so we will be focusing on assembly today."

Each of them took a cutting board and a small knife as Mr. Abe divided the ingredients between them. Imogen was left with a chunk of salmon and an avocado, while Connor's board had imitation crab and cucumber. She began chopping the raw salmon diligently, almost forgetting the man next to her as she sliced through the fish with precise strokes. Only the (satisfying) sound of food being cut, and the clicking of the camera, could be heard as they worked with focus.

"Should I be concerned that you're pretty good with a knife?" Connor suddenly asked, nodding to her salmon chunks. His imitation crab was looking somewhat chopped up, but not quite shredded enough yet.

She shrugged. "I had a soap-cutting phase."

"…Soap-cutting?"

"Uh, I used to cut soap because it was stress-relieving." She still mourned the pieces of beautiful, colorful soap sacrificed to The Knife. Naturally, that phase of her life didn't last very long, as the royal advisors did not want the future monarch to lose all her fingers before she hit adulthood. "It was one of those silly hobbies."

His hand paused as his face became reflective. "Oh, I get that. I don't think I had any 'silly hobbies.' I was always tinkering around with my computer."

"Your computer?"

He resumed his chopping. "Yeah. I like coding," he explained. "There are some projects I'm working on at the moment."

"Did you bring your computer with you?"

He looked up. "Was I allowed to?"

"I don't see why not," she said.

"Eyes on the food, please," Mr. Abe interjected. "Be careful with the knife."

He cocked his head to the side. "Then, yes. I did."

"I see. You can ask Rosemary for access to the network. The process is kind of complicated, but—"

"No, no, it's fine. I have my own private network." He waved his hand—the one without the knife, thankfully—dismissively. "Just needed confirmation that I could use my computer."

After a few more moments of silence, Imogen scooped her newly-cut avocado slices into a bowl, and Mr. Abe gave her a piece of bluefin tuna to chunk. However, as she made the first cut, her left hand slipped on the tuna, and the knife stung her finger.

She yelped, dropping the knife and lifting her hand to eye level.

The sharp blade had sliced into the side of her finger, where a drop of red was forming. Already, she felt a stinging sense of pain. Trying to wipe the blood away, she only managed to smear the area around her finger.

She heard footsteps from the door. Officer Ortega must have come back inside.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" Connor asked, eyes wide. His eyes fell on the knife, then on the cut on her finger. He became whiter than the rice. "Is that blood?"

Imogen nodded, shooting an anxious look towards the cameraman in the corner. She hoped he knew better than to photograph the moment. Now, both her finger and pride were injured.

Officer Ortega pulled a small pack from her pocket. "I have bandages, Your Highness." As unperturbed as ever, she wrapped a Band-Aid way too tightly around Imogen's finger as Mr. Abe, Connor, and the cameraman all watched on. Heat flooded to Imogen's cheeks, and she looked out the window to avoid their eyes.

After Officer Ortega finished, Imogen touched her bandaged finger gently, wincing as she felt a twinge of pain.

"Does it hurt?" Connor asked.

"No. I'm fine."

Her first date of the Selection, and blood had already been spilled.

"There is a small problem, Your Highness." Mr. Abe gestured to the rolling mats, looking worried. "Rolling sushi does require some pressure from the fingers. This may not be the best idea…"

"I'll roll Her Highness's sushi," Connor piped up. "She can put the ingredients in, and I'll roll it up for her."

On the one hand, she didn't want to seem like she couldn't even roll her own sushi. Especially not in front of one of her Selected. She was more than ready to use her injury as an excuse to end the date and get back to her room.

But on the other hand… she really wanted sushi.

"If it isn't good, I'll be very disappointed," she warned.

"I won't let you down."

Listening carefully to Mr. Abe's instructions, Connor laid the nori on the rolling mat—smooth side down—and spread the rice over it. He carefully placed some imitation crab, cucumber, and avocado at the edge of the mat.

"I wanted a different filling," Imogen pointed out.

"This one's for me, Your Highness." He grinned, folding up the edge of the mat as Mr. Abe had shown. "I need some practice before I attempt yours."

Imogen stiffened, realizing she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. Sure enough, the roll looked a little loose and lopsided once he was finished. "Not bad," Mr. Abe commented. Connor looked like he was trying hard not to beam with pride.

"Now, Your Highness, what filling do you want?"

"Salmon and avocado." Not tuna, after it had betrayed her.

As Connor removed the roll from the mat, he nodded in approval to himself. "Second time's the charm!"

"Quite good for an amateur," Mr. Abe praised.

Imogen sat in her stool and watched as Connor and Mr. Abe continued rolling the sushi. Whoever had organized this date for her must have taken pity on her to give her a somewhat enjoyable activity, but now, she couldn't even take part in it. Some of the other dates she would be sent on would undoubtedly be less pleasant.

Sushi, she reminded herself. You get sushi.

"Now, time to cut the rolls!" Mr. Abe handed Connor a knife.

In one swift motion, Connor cut the middle of the first roll—and completely crushed it.

"No, no, not like that," Mr. Abe chided.

Luckily, his attempts gradually improved. By the time he was on Imogen's sushi, the edges were neat and precise.

"Maybe my true calling is a sushi chef," Connor said as he lined the sushi up on a long white plate. "What do you think, Mr. Abe?"

"You did… Decently well, for someone with no experience." Mr. Abe was already cleaning up the counter, moving most of the equipment onto a small cart.

Connor grinned. "I'll take it." The cameraman snapped pictures of the plated sushi. "How is it, Your Highness?"

"I have to try it first, don't I?"

They moved to the small table against the wall, where two chairs were pulled out. The cameraman cleared his throat. "We just need some eating shots, Your Highness, and then we'll be on our way."

Connor watched expectantly as she tried the sushi. It was nothing like the fancy, delicately-made rolls the palace occasionally served. However, as far as the basic flavors and texture went… "It's good."

His eyes shone. "So, have I met your standards?"

She suspected he wasn't only referring to the sushi. "For someone with no experience, this sushi turned out pretty well." As he opened his mouth, she added, "Then again, we didn't have that much to do." Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the cameraman leaving the room, followed by Mr. Abe pushing his cart.

He nodded, deflating only slightly. It didn't seem like much would damper him after being praised (sort-of) by a palace sous-chef. "True. At least I know how to roll sushi now."

"A crucial life skill that any future king should have." She popped another piece into her mouth, surprised at how easily the joke had slipped out. "How about preparing the ingredients? Cooking the sushi rice?"

"Well, I can learn those some other day." He glanced at her bandaged hand. "You should try rolling the sushi someday, too. I'm sure you'd get the hang of it."

Imogen scoffed, not missing what he was probably suggesting. "Would that happen to conveniently be with you?"

Connor grinned. "Well, I'm not hinting at anything, but… Did you know that eating sushi on the first date boosts your chances for a second date by 170 percent?"

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you know that."

He shrugged, probably trying to fake modesty. "Just stumbled across it once."

"How about cutting your finger on the first date? Does that boost the chances?"

That threw him off. He nearly choked on his sushi. "Uh, I'm not sure," he said sheepishly.

It was kind of amusing to scare the Selected, she had to admit. It was too tempting. One comment, and they were suddenly all terrified and hesitant and scared for their lives.

Connor didn't seem to be panicking, but his eyes were full of unspoken questions as he watched her finish the sushi. He was a noble pick, so he wouldn't be one of the first sent home anyways.

And despite the injury, their date had been somewhat nice—no overwhelming pressure of romance, no sappy declarations of love, no hostility bubbling under the surface.

"Well, Sir Connor, you're not going home. So maybe the sushi has boosted your chances."

Those unspoken questions still lingered in his eyes, but he breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Gotta thank that 170 percent."

(this chapter is alternatively titled: sushi is the only thing motivating imogen to get through these tough times, rip. i wrote this chapter back in mid-april when i hadn't had sushi in months and was really craving it. binging a ton of youtube videos about making sushi—because i've never actually made it myself, so excuse any errors, oops—did not help. right now i am still craving sushi. please ship me some sushi along with your reviews and i will consider entertaining any ridiculous requests you have, like the sexual orientation of certain side characters. )

Thank you so much for all your reviews on the last chapter! I don't reply to most reviews individually, but know that I appreciate you and love hearing your thoughts. You all had some spicy opinions on the boys, many of which made me laugh for multiple reasons… ;)

Another great thing about reviews is that it helps me make sure I'm portraying your character correctly! So as always, I'd appreciate it if y'all keep letting me know how I'm doing, every once in a while, so I can make sure I'm writing the best story for all of us.

So, the first date goes to Sir Connor Clarington! But we also got to see a little bit of Sir Andres Porter, which Imogen wasn't too ecstatic about. How do you feel about these additions to our cast of Selected? We'll be meeting a lot more over the next few chapters ;)

Until next time!

—Rysa