CHAPTER 18

Charlotte Reyes considered herself to be extremely logical. Life in itself was pure logic; the gravitational constant was an ever unchanging nine point eight one, and that kept her from floating away. The rocks she would kick on her way home from primary school had been formed from years of sedimentary buildup. Four nitrogenous bases formed her DNA, her DNA made genes, her genes made proteins, and her proteins made her.

So naturally, she had decided to take the logical approach to the selection. And logic dictated that out of the thirty-five girls, she had oh, about a three percent chance of winning. But now, the pool had been narrowed down to a mere sixteen, so that just about doubled her odds.

Then of course, there were other considerations to take into account. She was smart, maybe vainly so, but she was and that probably pushed her ahead of many of the bumbling bimbos. Cade didn't seem like the type to marry a stupid girl. She wasn't beautiful. She didn't have the connections of a higher caste, but she wasn't low enough to be any sort of an inspiration. She was witty, but she wasn't funny. She was well-spoken, but she wasn't charismatic.

All in all, Charlotte had calculated her chances to be just around eight percent.

Even now, sitting through one of those dreadful etiquette lessons, she couldn't help but smile smugly. Yes, she was sure she was right.

Finley Ariss, the recipient of the first date, was outgoing and distinctly likable. But she sat two rows behind Charlotte, her phone tucked into her notebook, playing some phone game. Based on Vivienne's glares from the front of the room, the Princess had noticed as well. Charlotte personally didn't think Finley would be staying long if she wasn't a tad bit more discreet.

Nora Louise, the recipient of the first kiss, was a sweetheart. She nodded along dutifully, taking notes in a sparkly book with a glittery, poofy, twisty pen. She was too much of a sweetheart actually. Charlotte didn't know how far she would make it in the political sphere.

There were others too. Pamela who clocked in at about one to ten odds. Catalina with a twelve percent chance. Mona, who's rantings about the Illéan monarchy, and Cade's own father, had caused Charlotte to have to redo her entire system.

Charlotte didn't mind though. It gave her something to pass the time. She worked on them all through the history lessons she already knew and the political lectures she could practically recite. She would have liked to use the hour and a half allotted to etiquette to perfect them, but Charlotte knew better than that.

Almost as if Vivienne could hear her thoughts, but probably only because the clock indicated that there were merely seven minutes left in the class, she slammed her hand down on the desk Charlotte shared with Ellis.

There were two small strips of paper. One read The Bolivian Republic, the other Croatia.

Charlotte looked at Ellis and shrugged. Ellis returned the gesture.

Vivienne continued around the room, placing papers on each desk, though with slightly less force. She didn't say a word until they had all been distributed, and the girls had enough time to whisper questions that nobody knew the answer to.

"We will have a project," Vivienne stated, looking extraordinarily satisfied with herself. "You each have received a country assignment. I hope you can choose who takes which without fighting. You are each to write an essay regarding the traditions, customs, culture, and norms of your country. It will be four thousand words to be submitted within three days. Oh, and it must be handwritten."

Charlotte's eyebrows raised, and she knew that the rest of the room mirrored her incredulous expression. Surely, Vivienne must be joking. This must be either a very late April Fool's joke or a very early Halloween trick. Four thousand words? In three days?

Catalina raised her hand slowly, "Um, how are we going to know it's four thousand words if we hand write it?"

"That is a very good question, Catalina. One of you in this room is the future Queen of Illéa. I hope that an idea occurs to someone."

Charlotte had an idea of course, to simply just count the words, but there was no way that would work. It would take hours and was so prone to human error. That could not be the solution. Could it?

"Okay," Catalina squeaked, looking less sure than before she had asked her question.

"Additionally, several of you will be selected at random to present your findings to the leaders of that nation. This is your first, and very likely last, chance to make an impression on the world. I suggest you do not squander it."

There was a charged silence as the room processed her words. So this wasn't just a project meant to waste their time, it was a project meant to mortify them if they did a bad job. A project meant to introduce them to the cutthroat world of royalty.

"You may go," Vivienne concluded, flicking her hand towards the door.

At this point, it had become a ritual for the selected to return to the Women's Room after their lessons. Even Charlotte, who had just about no friends, and several people she would have preferred to avoid, went with them.

Usually they didn't talk until they were safely in the Women's Room, but this time they simply couldn't contain themselves.

"Is she serious right now?" Avary complained, her slip of paper balled in her fist.

Nora Louise patted her comfortingly on the back, "It's o-kay. It'll be fun!" That was Nora Louise, always trying to put a positive spin on anything, even the most unpositive of circumstances.

"What country did you get?" Charlotte asked, her curiosity bubbling to the surface. The mathematician in her wanted a list of each girl's country complete with their most probable rating on it.

"The UK," Nora Louise responded cheerfully.

Her answer elicited a chorus of groans from the rest of the girls. "That's like the easiest one ever," Finley interjected. "I got Montenegro. I don't even know what continent that's on."

Charlotte turned to Ellis, who was clutching both of the strips. "Which one do you want?"

"Oh, you can choose! I don't really mind either," Ellis answered, holding the papers out to her. They both seemed like equally difficult options, but Charlotte opted for The Bolivian Republic. There was a much smaller chance that Vivienne was friendly enough with its rulers to have them pop on a video call for this absurd contest.

Numbers don't fail her now, Charlotte begged silently.

They all had more or less assigned seating in the Women's Room. Charlotte generally tried to sit as far away from Mona as possible. That girl was nothing but trouble. She talked far too much and was far too explicit with her beliefs. Charlotte had no interest in being associated with her when she was either arrested or dishonorably discharged from the Selection.

Luckily, Mona seemed content enough to sit with Finley and Blythe, who all chatted disgruntledly as they grudgingly began researching their countries.

Charlotte didn't have anyone to chat to. Not that she minded! She had friends, Pamela, and occasionally Ellis, but they weren't really the talkative type. Nor were they the type to plan fun activities like slumber parties or mani-pedis. Which Charlotte was too old for anyway, so she was happy about that because she definitely did not want to join Nora Louise and Catalina when they made hot chocolate or anything like that.

Yup. She was fine with it. A-Okay with it.

Most of the girls pulled out shiny laptops to conduct their research. Charlotte did not have a laptop. Her family owned two desktops which were located in their real estate office. They were slow, grainy devices, probably from before Charlotte was born. There was no money to buy new ones. There was never any money to buy new anythings.

Her clothes were purchased from thrift stores. Their furniture came from consignment shops. Her phone was a hand-me-down from her second cousin. Yet, she knew she was luckier than most in Illéa. There were some fours with elaborate lifestyles, fours who owned immensely popular restaurants or who sold their smaller businesses to those large corporations. Most fours, however, barely got by. Charlotte had security. There was always a next meal, there was always heat in the winter.

Luxuries like fancy computers though, there was just no budget for them. It wasn't really a problem, the palace had tactfully provided a case of laptops for the selected's use. It was somewhere in the library. They were allowed to simply just take a computer for the duration of their stay, but Charlotte had never done so.

But she had research to do.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing her way carefully through the thinned crowd of girls.

When she opened the door, she was not expecting to find Prince Cadence Schreave pacing nervously in front of it. In fact, she stopped short, and her heel almost snagged on the carpet. "Oh! Your Highness," she curtsied quickly.

Cade looked relieved to see her. At least, he stopped pacing. "Miss Reyes," he said. "Where are you going?"

"To the library. I have to do some research for one of my classes," Charlottes explained.

"Oh, about what?" He bit his lip for a second, a very un-regal gesture in Charlotte's mind. "Do you think, I mean, would you mind if I came with you?"

A bell went off in Charlotte's head. Was this a date? The only date she had been on was that tea party, and despite Cade's attempts at conversation, it was painfully obvious that he didn't really want to be there. Maybe this was just the refresh that she needed.

"Of course not, Your Highness. That would actually be really nice. The library is so quiet that it sometimes makes it harder to focus." The library was so big, cavernous really, all dark wood and muted colors. Charlotte was usually the only one in there, and the emptiness just felt unnatural, like she was not supposed to be there.

It was a ridiculous notion. Of course she was supposed to be there. She had been selected and specifically told she could visit the library. It was silly of her.

Cade nodded solemnly, "I know. It gets really creepy at night. Honestly, I try to avoid it sometimes," he admitted, ducking his head. It suddenly occurred to Charlotte that he was following her directions. How strange. Surely he must know how to get to the library. He grew up here.

"I don't really have a choice this time," Charlotte started. "I have to write an essay about a topic I barely know, so step one is to try to become an expert in it."

"What's the topic if you don't mind me asking?" Cade asked nervously, as if he wasn't sure whether or not it was appropriate.

"The Bolivian Republic," Charlotte answered.

"The-The Bolivian Republic? Why…" a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Did Vivienne assign that to you?"

"Yes, Your Highness." An unfriendly looking guard held the door to the dim room open for them, and Charlotte made a beeline for the laptops. Cade, still, followed her.

"That actually sort of makes sense. She's um, I think one of her cousins married into the monarchy there. Augustine, his name was."

Damn it. The numbers had failed her. His Royal Highness Augustine whatever of The Bolivian Republic would surely decide to do Vivienne a favor and quiz Charlotte. How unlucky was-wait a minute.

"Just out of question, does she have any connection to Croatia?"

Cade thought as Charlotte picked a set of stiff-backed chairs to work in. "I…I think so? I'm not sure, but most of the Europeans are related to one another. It's very likely."

"The UK too?" Charlotte asked as casually as possible.

This time, Cade didn't hesitate. He shook his head quickly, a resounding no. "I don't know if it's true, but my cousin told me that Vivienne and the heir to the British throne aren't really on the best terms. I don't think they're family."

How delightfully lucky for Nora Louise.

"What are you looking for about The Bolivian Republic?" Cade asked.

Charlotte looked up, sighing. "A lot. Customs, traditions, holidays I guess. You said they have a monarchy right?"

"They do. Queen Teresa Olivera and her husband, Manuel," Cade's smile faltered for a second. "I'm really sorry, I forgot the translation of the titles."

"That's okay," Charlotte said. "I can just google it."

Cade nodded, but he didn't seem satisfied. In fact, he seemed like he needed to explain himself. "I've never been great at languages. I learned a slew when I was younger but they just uh, they didn't stick."

"It's alright. You have translators at meetings, don't you? And ambassadors and diplomats. The language barrier must not be a very big deal." It was actually a very simple problem to fix, in Charlotte's humble opinion, and she prided herself on being right most of the time.

"We do," Cade answered. "Do you speak any other languages?"

"No. My high school offered several classes, but you know it is much harder to learn once you've passed thirteen, so I never saw the point."

"That's really smart," Cade mumbled, his face flushing, "I should have done something like that. I took Spanish for four years and now I can't even conjugate in the past tense."

"I took a few other math classes instead. I don't know if I particularly enjoyed them, but they were infinitely more useful." At least, Charlotte would never forget the derivative of a natural log, so she would have something to show for all her effort.

All that effort just to work for her fathers at their real estate firm like she was always going to. Well, no. She was a three now. She could be a teacher if she wanted to, she could teach mathematics, calculus. She wasn't stuck anymore.

"Math wasn't really…it was never my strong suit," Cade confessed. "Okay um, The Bolivian Republic…it was another country reformed after the fourth World War, when most countries shifted back to monarchies. It's not really a republic at all. The first king was elected, I think, so they sort of just act like the people hold the power, but they don't."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "That sounds like an incredibly absurd lie, Your Highness."

"It is. It's a pretty weird country, all things considered. It just exists so…yeah," Cade paused, shifting topics. "Also you don't have to um, I mean, I was thinking about it, and there's really no reason for any of you guys to have to use my title."

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? Just to confirm, she slowly, deliberately asked, "Should we refer to you as Cadence then?"

"Just Cade is good. That's what everyone calls me. Cadence is a pretty stuffy, long name."

That it was, but her name was Charlotte, which actually had more letters than Cadence, so she couldn't exactly say anything bad about his name. "Sure. I'll keep that in mind."

"Okay. It's up to you, anyway."

Charlotte looked at him and smiled, "Then shouldn't I choose to call you Cade? Well, somewhere the palace aids must be practically fainting." Charlotte admired sticking to protocol to a certain extent. To the extent that the protocol didn't interfere with sane decision making. That crucial detail seemed to slip by many of the palace employees, and it occasionally infuriated Charlotte.

"Probably." Cade's face sobered, dropping the small smile. "How is the Selection? Is it very different from your life at home?"

Charlotte closed her laptop. This question required a thoughtful answer. "Yes," she admitted. "Not in a bad way. It's just that my life at home is so mundane, the same day over and over again. It's spreadsheets and listings and interest calculators. This is a different world."

"It is?"

"Sure. When at home would I ever have to know about The Bolivian Republic or be able to recite the entire history of Illéa? It's just such a change."

"I gu- It's a lot of information," Cade agreed slowly. "A lot of information in a really tight time frame."

Charlotte shrugged, "I work best under pressure. Like how I'm going to write this essay."

"How long do you have for it?" Cade asked.

"Three days," Charlotte groused. What an absolutely ridiculous deadline for an absolutely ridiculous essay.

Cade wrinkled his nose. "That's not…how long is it supposed to be?"

Charlotte hated complaining, but she allowed herself to languish a sigh. "Four thousand words."

Charlotte saw Cade's eyes widen in disbelief. The expression was actually very similar to when Charlotte found out, which was ironic considering Cade didn't actually have to write anything.

"Four thousand? That's not-" he seemed to catch himself, taking a deep breath, "I think Vivienne has very high expectations of you all."

"Almost as if we're superhuman," Charlotte muttered.

"She means well," Cade insisted, although he didn't seem like he really believed it.

"Sure." This essay wasn't going to write itself, and Cade, bless his heart, had done little more than provide a distraction for Charlotte. She abhorred distractions. "I guess I better get writing, I'll see you at dinner, Cade."

Cade nodded, the cautious smile returning to his face, "I'll see you, Charlotte."

Cade could tell when he wasn't wanted. After five years of being pushed around, humiliated, and criticized, it was a skill he had perfected. And to be honest, Charlotte's dismissal of him was fine. He hadn't had a date planned, he didn't really have any romantic notions in his head. Honestly, he just needed to do something.

He got a nagging feeling almost all of the time that he wasn't spending enough time with the selected. He was preoccupied with his own issues, issues that spanned the very fabric of the country, but the women didn't know that. Neither did the council or the press, although he would have worried more about the terrible articles if the press was actually given any information regarding the Selection. The selected probably thought that he didn't care, which could not have been farther from the truth.

It was that thought spiral that led to him loitering outside the Women's Room, trying to decide who to go on a date with, what they would do, where they would go, when Charlotte had walked out. It made his decision much easier.

But considering that he truly had nothing planned, and that Charlotte seemed incredibly busy, he was okay with being shooed away. Charlotte needed to write that essay, and Cade had chores he needed to take care of.

He needed to read a few military reports, look over the provinces discretionary spending, and confirm the list of candidates for the next round of elections. They were all dull tasks, things that were usually delegated to various staffers. They were assignments utterly unbecoming of the heir to the throne, but really, who would give him any actual work of any actual importance?

Three months. Then he would be the King, and he wouldn't have to get the most demeaning of jobs from the council. No, in three months he would be in charge of the council, their annoyingly abused power to force his hand would be stripped, and he could finally live his life in peace.

"Your Highness," a deep voice called as Cade made his way through the governmental wing to go collect his papers.

Ah. Speak of the devil.

George Hyde was standing a few feet down the hallway, looking at him expectantly. Well, he was better than anyone else who could have stopped him. Sometimes it was the small things in life that Cade had to hold on to.

"Hello," Cade said, walking over to him.

"There was a matter that came up during one of the meetings today. I believe it requires your input," Hyde said, the look on his face so somber.

The whole combination unsettled Cade. He felt his heart start to beat faster, which usually meant his face would soon be flushed. Hopefully he could finish this conversation before his voice started to tremble. "My input? Wh-what is it?"

"You've made very significant progress in your Selection," Hyde started, sounding both rehearsed yet dissatisfied with the words. "With it being nearly towards the Elite, many on the council believe there should be a chance to meet with the selected before details start to be released to the media."

Cade didn't like the sound of that. The only reason why the council would want any involvement with his Selection, something they had deemed a showboating opportunity that reflected horrendously on the government, was so that they could attempt to force him into a decision.

"A chance to meet…do you mean interviews with them?"

"I believe the idea was something less formal. A mixer of sort in one of the rooms used for gatherings. It would be ah," he sighed deeply, "beneficial for both parties."

Beneficial for both parties. That meant that the council didn't have the authority to make him do it. There was a childish part of Cade that wanted to say no, just to prove that he could.

But what would that accomplish other than further antagonizing his future staff? It wasn't even an awful idea, misguided Cade was sure, but not awful. His future wife, his future Queen, would have to be able to handle herself with prickly people, and the council was sure to provide plenty of them. He supposed it would be a learning experience.

Cade swallowed, "When would it be?"

"They were thinking tomorrow evening. Around seven o'clock," Hyde answered placidly.

"Is the event going to be recorded, do you know?"

"The general plan was to have stationary cameras for photography purposes."

It didn't sound awful, and yes, that was probably because George Hyde himself was the head of council and knew how to make terrible, ill-conceived ideas into pretty-sounding packages, but really, what was the worst that would happen? The council would insist on meeting the selected eventually. Sooner was better than later.

"Okay," Cade agreed slowly. The words were harder to form than he thought they would be. "Tomorrow night. Do the event coordinators know about it? They probably need to start working on it soon, so it'll be ready in time and all."

Hyde nodded. "I spoke to them, yes."

"Okay. Okay, it sounds good. I can inform the selected," Cade finished, his voice weak.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Hyde recited. He turned to walk away, then paused, looking back at Cade. "You know, you look so much more like your father than when you were younger." Then he shook his head and left without a word.

What would Cade even had said to that? Thank you? He had known many of the council members since he was twelve years old, and yet they rarely made references to it. It was unprofessional, Cade had reasoned, and he supposed, they didn't want to remember a time when they sort of liked him.

It didn't really matter anymore anyway. They all had forgotten it, and he should pretend to do the same.

He went off to his office to complete his meager tasks. He signed the bottoms of each document carefully, but the whole thing didn't take any longer than an hour. Cade was never good at finding things to do in his free time, he didn't really have hobbies, or podcasts he listened to like Aunt Morgan, or sports he tracked like Andrew. Times like these were usually spent trying desperately to find some enjoyment in an old book.

So that was what he did until the clock hit six. Dinner technically started as six-thirty, which used to be merely a formality, but now was strictly adhered to due to the Selection.

Another addition was the expectation of having to change for dinner. Cade couldn't remember the last time anyone had worn an evening gown for dinner prior to the Selection, but tradition was tradition, and it was what Illéa was governed by. So Cade ditched the suit jacket in his room and let his butler comb gel into his hair, however even with that stop, he was still one of the first to arrive, second only to Finley.

That was a surprise. "Hey Finley," he greeted.

She was sitting by herself at the table, head buried in her phone. She startled at the sound of his voice, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Oops! Sorry, still working on my table manners."

"It's okay. You were the only one here."

Finley sighed. "I know! Usually I show up late to these things, but I was starving today and figured I could eat early. But there isn't even a bread basket!"

"They bring those out when more people are here so the bread doesn't get cold," Cade explained.

"Wish I'd known that," Finley pouted. "I am actually about to eat my silverware." Cade laughed at that. "Psh, you think I'm joking, but I am very serious right now."

"It's sort of expensive silverware," Cade winced.

"I don't feel like going to the hospital tonight anyway." Finley drummed her fingers on the table for a few more seconds, "So what time do people usually start coming?"

"Five more minutes maybe?" Most of the selected seemed to arrive at six-thirty on the dot. It was actually very peculiar, now that Cade stopped to think about it. Someone must have drilled in them the importance of punctuality down to the minute.

"Hmm. Okay. Well, you wouldn't mind if I finished my game right?"

Cade shook his head, "What game is it?"

Finley beamed, taking out her phone. "It's a roller coaster simulator. You have to make the coaster jump over the lava without it hitting the stalactites. I'm level seven hundred and forty-two!"

"Really? Did that take a long time?" If only Cade had a game like that, something he could play to pass those painfully slow minutes.

"Honestly, kinda. I've had this account since I was sixteen." Finley didn't look up at him, her nose scrunched in concentration. It was actually very cute.

"That long?"

"Yup. Ugh, damn it. Whatever." The cartoon rollercoaster had plopped into the lava with a sad sound effect. "Do you want to try Cade?" She offered her phone to him. It was chipped with a thick graphic-cartoon case.

"Sure, why not."

Finley watched over his shoulder as he played, occasionally offering her advice. Cade was moderately proud of his score, until he saw Finley's high score, which dwarfed his but about four million. Well, maybe he would get better.

"What's the game called?" Cade asked, handing Finley her phone back. The other ladies would start to come in soon, and he should be seated by then.

"Uhm, you're gonna laugh. It's called Candy Corn Coasters. Because the obstacles are supposed to look like candy, you know?"

Cade actually did not know. He had assumed they were some cleverly designed rocks. Still, he nodded, mentally storing the name. "Okay, got it."

Finley drew in an excited breath. "If you get the game you should totally friend me. You can have my old patterns for the cart if you want."

"I'll see, maybe," he answered, smiling. Finley playfully shoved him away, and he went up to his seat at the head table.

The crowd seemed to grow exponentially. At two minutes past, the only person missing was Andrew, who was prone to skipping dinner regularly and without warning. Vivienne was present though, and that usually meant he would eventually make his way down.

Cade stood before platters were given out. It was the only time when the room was somewhat quiet.

"Excuse me, everyone," he started. "I'm really sorry for the short notice, but the council wanted, I mean, we discussed today that none of you have met anyone in the government yet. So, tomorrow night we're going to have a small party or get-together so everyone can be introduced to one another. It will be at seven, and I'm not sure of the location yet, but your maids should know."

There were a few moments of silence before a hand slowly raised into the air. Oh. He hadn't really anticipated questions. "What is appropriate attire?" Mona asked flippantly.

Cade paused, thinking. "Semi-formal I gu- suppose." He heard Vivienne click her tongue disapprovingly from his left.

Emboldened by Mona's question, several other girls raised their hands.

"So we're meeting all of them?" Nora Louise squeaked.

That was another thing Cade wasn't sure of. "I think as many who will come." The council members loved opportunities like this, and unless one had an unfortunate cancellation with a babysitter, none would choose to miss it.

"Should we wear our name tags?" Irina asked, referencing the shining silver pins they had been asked to wear the first day of the Selection.

"I think that would be helpful, if your maids know where they are. If not, I think it's fine."

"Are we supposed to know all of their names?" Avary asked, seeming annoyed at the whole affair. That didn't bode well.

"Well, not all of them. They'll introduce themselves, I think. There are websites with all of them if you want to look it up, but you don't have to if you don't want to." That one turned Cade's face red. And he had been doing so well before.

"When did you all agree on this?" Aunt Morgan drawled, her annoyance equaling Avary's.

"Oh um, a few hours ago. I know, it's a really small timeframe, I'm sorry." Maybe in hindsight Cade should have told his family before he made the announcement as a whole. Maybe it shouldn't have been the first time they found out about it.

"Splendid. Well, I suppose I have a party to plan. How lovely for me," Aunt Morgan said loud enough for the room to hear, with an obviously irate level of enthusiasm. It shut down the questions from the selected at least.

Andrew had strolled in just in time to catch the last half of his mother's sentence. "Party?" he asked, settling down in his chair next to Vivienne.

"Yes, it's tomorrow," Aunt Morgan snapped at him. "Try to show up on time."

"Jeez, okay, sorry," he said, giving his father a confused look.

Aunt Morgan sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. "No, Andrew. Never mind. This is just…not what I had planned for my evening." With that she stood, walking out of the room with quick, angry strides.

Cade felt a rush of guilt. Hyde said he had spoken to the event coordinators, Cade had assumed that meant the whole thing was taken care of. But, he remembered, Aunt Morgan had to have the final say on all their decisions. That really was a terrible thing for him to throw on someone. It wasn't fair. He would do it himself. He couldn't exit dinner right now, what with all the selected watching him, but as soon as he could, he would go take the responsibility of the party. It was the proper thing to do.

"Wait," Andrew asked, dipping his roll into some spread. "What time is it at?"

"It's going to be at seven," Cade said quietly.

"Oh." Andrew made a face. "I actually have plans. Vivienne and I were going to go to a different party."

"The one your friend Helena is throwing, right?" Vivienne asked.

"Yeah."

As ridiculous as it sounded, Cade felt a little bad he hadn't been invited. Helena knew who he was, she had nearly tackled him the last time they were together. And there was that Spanish project from all those years ago. She could have invited him if she wanted to.

Uncle Albert pretended to study the carvings in the wood. He wasn't the type of parent to ever tell Andrew he couldn't do something, even if that something coincided with a relatively important government event.

Vivienne pursed her lips. "I think we should just go late. This is important for the selected."

"I mean, yeah, but why do we have to be there?"

"I just think we should," Vivienne insisted. "We can leave by eight-thirty."

"Okay," Andrew agreed. "If you want to, I'm fine with that."

Cade ate his food as quickly as was deemed proper. A few of the selected had started to talk in soft tones, whispers that Cade couldn't make out. Maybe they were talking about the party tomorrow night, or maybe they were just talking about the weather.

After an appropriate amount of time, Cade pushed his chair out to leave. "Excuse me," he said to the room in general.

Andrew turned to look at him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go talk to Aunt Morgan. Figure out what to do with the party."

"Wait, I'll come with you." Andrew took one last sip of his water before going to follow Cade out of the room. Once the door was shut, Andrew turned to talk to him. "I don't know why my mom got so mad at me."

Cade was acutely reminded of those times in high school where Andrew would acknowledge his existence only if there was no one else around. It made school assemblies interesting to say the least.

Cade shrugged. "I don't think she was mad at you."

"Am I really late that much?" Andrew frowned. "I thought that the dinner time was more like a suggestion anyway."

It used to be one. "I don't know," was all Cade said.

"And it was only ten-" The sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor quieted Andrew. Cade looked over his shoulder to see Irina walking towards them, her frown deeper than Andrew's.

"Hi," she breathed.

Andrew looked between Cade and her, then back again. "I'll go wait over there," he jerked his thumb in the general direction of the left. "Give you guys some privacy," he grinned.

"Hey, Irina," Cade greeted, watching Andrew's retreating form.

Irina gave some combination of a laugh and a sigh of disgust. "I'm sorry. This is probably against all of the decorum and lessons."

"It's okay. Those aren't that important anyway."

Irina's hands settled on her hips, right before her emerald gown spilled out into silky layers. "We both know that's not true," she groused. "What am I going to do tomorrow? I don't know how to speak to anyone on the council."

In truth, Cade had nothing reassuring to say to her. He wasn't sure that he knew how to speak to the council either, and any advice he gave would probably only diminish Irina's ability to try and impress the council.

Cade swallowed. "I wouldn't…It doesn't really matter. This whole party or whatever it is was a surprise for me too."

That caught Irina's interest. "Really? Aren't you their boss?"

Sure. Maybe he was technically in charge of the council. It wasn't like that mattered when they spoke to him like he was still twelve years old, looked at him like he was intruding on their private business, and treated him like he was just going to abdicate again. He wished so badly he had never signed that paper, but his father hadn't exactly presented it as an option.

Irina must have seen the hesitation on Cade's face because she shook her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring anything bad up. I know it's a little tense. I just have absolutely no idea how to make my councilman like me. I didn't even vote for him!"

"I don't know if I would start with that," Cade mumbled.

Irina laughed. "I wasn't planning on it."

"Look, Irina, honestly, you're right. The council doesn't…they like to act like they have power, but they can't really do anything, so, i-it doesn't really matter how tomorrow goes." Cade wasn't sure if he believed the words as they came out of his mouth. They were all true, yes, but the council was the council. He wouldn't want any of the women to have the board affirmatively dislike them.

"It doesn't matter…?" Irina echoed.

"Well, not very much," Cade backtracked.

Irina took a deep breath, steeling herself. The second breath raised her chest. The third pulled her shoulders back. "Okay. What does it matter if some corrupt part of the Waverly political machine doesn't like me. You know what, I don't like Cleveland St. John!"

Cade winced, although he shared similar sentiments. "Well, maybe try to-"

Irina wasn't listening. "Do I even have to curtsy to him? He doesn't deserve it. Since when is owning every hospital in the metro area something to be applauded?"

Cade coughed, "I wouldn't really say that exactly."

"Of course not." Irina beamed, patting Cade's shoulder, "Thank you, Your Highness. This was very helpful." Then she walked off before Cade had time to stop her, to take back all his words.

Ah well.

"She seems like a delight," Andrew commented, causing Cade to jump. He clearly had heard the latter part of their conversation.

"I don't…"

"Cleveland St. John needs to be knocked down a few pegs anyway," Andrew huffed.

Now that was surprising. Cade turned to him, "You know who he is?"

"Of course I do. He's always bothering me about attending meetings or speaking on the Report. I gave him a fake email address a few years ago. He did not appreciate that." Andrew said all this so nonchalantly, as if Cleveland was nothing more than a pesky groupie. The envy was so acute that it hurt. If only Cade could care so little about what the council members wanted from him, about what they would do to him if he didn't listen.

"Oh. Okay." Cade couldn't talk about this anymore, "Do you know where your mom is?"

Andrew shrugged, "Probably her study."'

The walk up the three flights of stairs was silent, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle from Andrew. For all their familiar ties, Cade barely knew Andrew. He should remedy that, before Andrew went off to live in France and Cade was reduced to seeing him a few times a year, like with his sister.

"Are your allergies still bad?" Cade asked, not knowing what else to say.

"It's a bad year. You should be grateful you don't have to deal with this."

'"I am. I am."

The door to Aunt Morgan's study was propped slightly open, and Andrew opened it without knocking. It was a habit of his, Cade had noticed.

The room was very pretty, white vases holding pink roses, and sleek, shiny couches. There were several chrome tables around the room, holding various knick knacks and the occasional file folder or stack of paper.

"Oh, Andrew, Cade," Aunt Morgan said, looking up from her laptop. Her eyes were red, and unlike Andrew, Cade didn't think it was from allergies.

"Hey, Mom," Andrew said.

Aunt Morgan beckoned them closer, "I think I finished most of it. The woman in charge of the catering wanted to do these dreadful coffee cheesecake tarts, so I had to off that." She tilted her computer towards them so that they could see the tablecloths and seating arrangements. It seemed as if she was going for a silver theme.

"I'm sorry about the surprise," Cade whispered. "I can finish it."

Aunt Morgan wiped at her eyes before shaking her head. "No, it's part of the job, I suppose. It's alright Cade. It's not your fault."

Andrew seemed to be thinking of something else. "I hate the smoked salmon," he complained. "The texture is so gross." He sat down next to her, pointing to something on the computer screen.

"I know, dear. For some reason the council people always request them so we do what we must." Aunt Morgan typed a few more things, pressing each key as if she had a personal vendetta against it.

"Are you sure it's done? I can finish it. Really, it's my event so I should."

"Cade, it's almost done. At this point it would be far easier for me to just conclude it by myself, but thank you for offering," Aunt Morgan said firmly.

"Oh, um, sure."

"And, I'm sorry about yelling at you Andrew," Aunt Morgan continued, smoothing down her son's hair. "It's fine that you come late to dinner. That shouldn't have to change because of the Selection."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Andrew deadpanned.

"Your grandmother sent some photos of their garden," Aunt Morgan continued, clicking over to something. Andrew leaned in, interested. "It's come along so well. I wish we could go visit."

Almost as an afterthought, Aunt Morgan showed the photo to Cade, but whatever recognition and associated feelings Andrew and Aunt Morgan had of it was wholly lost on him. He had never been to Austria and he had met Aunt Morgan's parents, Andrew's grandparents, on only three occasions.

Right. This really wasn't his family anyway. His members of his family were either dead or in New Morocco. He shouldn't feel bad about it. He shouldn't.

"It's nice," Cade mumbled. "I'm going to go then."

Hello besties here is another chapter ! I know I'm on a semi-roll (not rlly but it's less than a month so let's just pretends LOLZ) In other news i officially committed to a college so hopefully updates will be a little more frequent? Maybe? We'll see. Also side note I totally envision Charlotte as being like Kate from the new netflix show The Diplomat, except taller.