Somehow, I made it through the rest of the Report. As we filed from the set, a small huddle of approved reporters took comments from those who'd been in the audience. I knew that mom and dad would have preferred me to stay quiet, but as I passed them I couldn't help but murmur, "How fortunate for him that they're all so attractive." My tone was entirely dry, and I spoke just loudly enough that any attentive reporter could hear, even if they weren't sharp enough to catch who'd said it.

Not that anyone of importance would recognise my name, even if the comment were attributed to me.

The reception was due to continue, and I was certain they'd bring the real champagne out now that the reporters were hurrying off to write their pieces for the morning papers, but I didn't have the strength to face it. The rest of my family had been caught-up in conversation on our way off set, so I managed to slip away, taking an indirect route back to the third floor.

Once I was alone in a hallway, I allowed the tears to fall. They were heavier than I'd anticipated, so halfway down I ducked into an alcove, pressing my back to the curved wall behind one of the large floral arrangements. I heard no footsteps, so I allowed a few devastating sobs to wrack my body, hoping I could get through this episode quickly.

The footsteps were so light that I barely heard them until it was too late. I clasped a hand over my mouth to contain my cries, and edged to the side of the alcove to see who might have heard me. A weight landed in the pit of my stomach when I realised it was Evander. Graciously, he pretended not to have seen me, although as he passed by my hiding place he smoothly held out a neatly folded handkerchief.

I snatched it up, more clumsily than I'd have liked, the linen cold against my clammy palms. We exchanged no words; what sense would there be in giving away our entanglement to a stray guard or maid this late in the game? But in the passing of that small square of fabric, he'd conveyed so much. He was sorry, he cared for me, he didn't want me to feel undignified.

But I still couldn't get a feel for whether he'd known–or worse, decided–that I wasn't going to be one of the Selected.

I kept my back pressed to the wall until I could be sure that he'd moved on, and I tried not to linger on the thought that he too was headed to the third floor rather than the Great Room for the reception.

Brenna was flitting between our family rooms when I stumbled into the parlour, dutifully turning down our beds for the night. I accidentally slammed the door, causing her to jump and drop the small pile of decorative cushions she was tidying.

I hurriedly went to help her pick them up, although she brushed off the help, holding me by the upper arms so that she could study my face, "Aurelia, whatever is the matter?"

When I opened my mouth to reply, a sob came out instead. Brenna pulled me into a hug, simply holding me until my breathing steadied, then she walked me to my room and sat me on the edge of my bed.

"You undress and change into your robe," she instructed, "I'll fetch us some tea."

The truth came out far too easily. How it had all started with the dance at my birthday party, how Evander's butler had been helping us arrange secret meetings, how we'd never made one another promises, but had wistfully talked about a future that couldn't exist now.

Brenna sat opposite me on my bed, both of us cross legged with cups of tea cradled in our laps. My door was closed, just in case the rest of my family returned from the reception prematurely or decided to check on me.

"I had a hunch," Brenna confessed, pushing a stray chestnut curl back under her cap, "It's why I've always voiced my reservations about him, even if it wasn't my place."

I half-smiled, "My parents wouldn't want you to censor yourself around us anyway."

She blushed, ducking her head, "I appreciate that. I just don't understand why you'd get involved with him, Audie. He lets people fall in love with him, and then gets to walk away without consequence because he's careful not to make promises."

"I never said I loved him," I was quick to point out, my cheeks burning.

Brenna sighed, "Of course you didn't, because you're smart, and you'd agreed not to place any serious labels on your relationship. You were guarding your heart."

I nodded along as she spoke, "Exactly."

She levelled me with a firm gaze, and spoke more sternly this time, "You may not have said the words, but I think you still let yourself fall for him."

"Brenna!" I snapped, spilling a few drops of tea in my lap.

She raised her chin, "Don't, Audie. I know you, and I already had my suspicions. If you didn't care for him that way, I don't think you'd have pressed for a place in the Selection, or that you'd be so derailed by not being chosen."

I sighed, tracing my finger around the rim of my teacup, "Maybe I'm just like any other girl who applied, hoping to be swept off her feet."

"You know what their lives are like," Brenna pointed out, raising her eyebrows, "Would you want to be a princess?"

"I think I would be as good of a princess as any of the Selected," I confessed, hoping she wouldn't think poorly of me for holding myself in such high esteem, "I know what their lives are like, but I also know what it's like not to be royal. I choose to study politics. I'm passionate about finding my place, and making my upbringing here count for something."

"I don't think you need to be a princess to achieve that," she reassured, and although I couldn't be sure, there seemed to be pride in her gentle smile.

I shrugged, "Maybe not, but what Evander and I had felt real, so maybe I let myself believe that all of this was meant to be."

Her smile turned sad, "Whatever happens, thank you for telling me."

"Nothing can happen now," I countered, a rogue tear spilling down my cheek, "He will marry one of the Selected, and because mom insists on keeping me close, I will have to watch him fall in love with her and pretend to be excited for them."

Brenna opened her mouth to reply when both of our heads were turned by a sound in the far corner of my room. All of the bedrooms on the third floor had discreet hidden doorways to the maze of service and security passageways within the palace, and at that moment, someone was tapping on the wall panel that concealed mine.

I couldn't recall the last time someone had used that door; the only service door Brenna used was the one in our family parlour, otherwise we were happy for her to come and go from our individual rooms via the main doors. Even when there was a security drill, we all went down to the safe room together through the parlour door.

Brenna looked at me questioningly, and I nodded, silently permitting her to answer the mysterious knock, standing to acknowledge whoever was intruding. It took her a moment to find the discreet latch. When she finally found it and eased the door open, Evander's butler Franks stood there sheepishly.

"Apologies for the intrusion, Ms Brenna. I require a private word with Miss Woodwork. Your discretion would be appreciated."

She looked between me and the butler, then sighed in resignation, "Certainly. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Brenna cleared our teacups and left for the parlour. Once she'd closed the door behind her, Franks silently darted across the room to bolt it, then retreated to the service door with catlike grace. He stood in wait just beyond the door frame, and Evander emerged from the dark passageway behind him.

My heart betrayed me, swelling the way it usually did when we began one of our secret meetings. I reminded myself that I was upset, and resisted the instinct to run into his arms. To contain myself, I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly aware of how flimsy my gown felt. Evander took a few steps into my room, but didn't close the space between us, his expression hesitant.

"Luxe Quinell sure looks pretty," I spat.

"I didn't see her face, Audie," Evander sighed, giving up on keeping his distance and sitting on the edge of my bed without invitation, "And frankly, I don't think you did either."

"Well I'm sure she's as perfect as the rest of them," I shot back, sitting stiffly on the opposite side of the bed, back half turned to him.

He shook his head, his hair messier than it had been on the Report, "You think I chose them?"

"No, I think you 'vetted' them," I replied icily, making quotation marks with my fingers.

Evander sighed, running his hands through that unkempt red hair, "The only involvement I had in the process was talking to my father about us. I genuinely wanted that opportunity to publicly explore our connection. I tried, Audie, but father must have thought it would look too convenient. You know I had my own reservations on that front, but ultimately it wasn't my choice."

"I don't know what I believe at the moment," I murmured, my voice fainter than I'd have liked.

I turned my face away, but I heard him groan. I felt the bed shift as he stood, coming around to my side and kneeling on the floor in front of me like he had in the movie theatre three weeks ago, "Believe that I care for you, please."

Although I still avoided his gaze, I could feel my lip trembling, and the shake in my voice reflected it, "And what good is that going to do me now, Evander?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for my hands, then second guess himself, "I'm sorry, I don't know. I suppose I just wanted you to know that I tried."

"And that's all I ever asked of you," I breathed, my voice cracking on the final word.

Despite my best efforts, my tears began all over again, but before I could retreat or reach for something to blot my eyes, his hands were on my cheeks, cradling my face. His thumbs brushed away the tears, and he left featherlight kisses on the damp skin left in their wake. His touch was devastatingly gentle, and the tenderness he showed only made me sob harder. I wasn't sure how it happened, but I found myself curled in his lap on the floor, my face buried in his neck as he held me.

"I'm sorry," he choked, rocking me and dropping kisses onto the top of my head, "I'm so sorry. But I'm out of options, I have to see this Selection through."

"I know," I gasped, trying to commit the smell of his skin to memory, like fresh rain in the palace gardens, "We never really stood a chance, did we?"

I felt him shake his head, his cheek against my hair, "Despite my parents' assurances, my future was never really mine to give away. I only ever had one thing that was truly mine to give; my heart."

With those last two words, he touched the swan pendant at my throat, and my breath stilled. Blood rushed in my ears as I whispered, "Your heart?"

He lifted his head from mine, coaxing my chin up with a finger so that we were face to face, "My heart; part of it belongs to my family, part of it belongs to Illéa, and after tonight, I know that a part of it will always belong to you."

I asked Brenna to tell my family that the lights on set during the Report had given me a headache, so I'd gone to bed early to sleep it off. She didn't ask any questions about what had happened after Franks ushered her from my bedroom, and for that I was grateful.

I hadn't expected to sleep, but somehow I did. Unfortunately, my dreams betrayed me. I dreamt that I'd only imagined that I wasn't chosen, and that during the real Report, Gavril announced me as the Selected from Angeles. The set burst into applause, and Gavril invited me to stand under a spotlight. Evander beamed at the announcement of my name, and even rushed across the set to embrace me.

When I was woken by the morning light creeping through my curtains, I felt my devastation anew, and allowed myself a final bout of tears before facing this new day.

I managed to get myself ready, distancing myself from the glamour of the previous night in a simple chiffon blouse and a tailored navy blue skirt that fell just past my knees. I couldn't bring myself to take off my swan pendant, so I lengthened the chain and tucked it beneath the bow at the collar of my blouse.

Asher and my parents were having coffee together in the parlour and skimming the day's headlines, as we did every morning before we joined the royal family for breakfast in the dining hall. Asher had a coffee ready for me, and I managed to avoid being pulled into conversation by feigning interest in the Selected and what the papers had to say about them.

Until dad cleared his throat, clearly wanting my attention, "I'm not angry, I just thought you knew better."

I blinked, my eyes wide with confusion, "Excuse me?"

He turned the paper he was reading, echoing the subheading he'd just read, "'How fortunate for him that they're all so attractive,' says friend of the royal family, Aurelia Woodwork, leading this reporter to wonder, does Miss Woodwork know something about the Selection system that we don't?"

I froze, barely daring to look at mom, who appeared utterly crestfallen. My mouth had turned dry, so I swallowed in an attempt to revive it before jumping to my own offense, "They've taken that entirely out of context. I was genuinely expressing how beautiful the Selected are."

"No, you weren't," Asher murmured, causing my mother to sigh and my father to shake his head.

"We must be prepared for repercussions," Dad cautioned, although he didn't press my faux pas further than that.

"And you will be finding a way to make this up to Queen America," mom finally stated, her voice detached.

Not the start to the day I'd been hoping for. Sure, the quip had made me feel momentarily powerful last night, but it hadn't been worth getting the cold shoulder from those I loved most.

Breakfast was expectedly awkward. Mom and dad immediately apologised to the King and Queen on my behalf for my quote, stressing that the reporters had taken it out of context, and that I was simply pleased that my lifelong friend had such a beautiful group of girls to choose a bride from. King Maxon attempted to laugh the whole thing off with my parents, but I could feel Queen America studying me in a strange way throughout our meal.

Thankfully Evander was absent; I wasn't sure I could look him in the eye right now, although it made me feel sick to wonder what he might make of the quote.

As soon as it was permissible, I excused myself from the breakfast table, still conscious of the Queen watching me. I exhaled a long breath as I stepped into the hallway, only to suck it straight back down when General Leger stepped into my path.

I couldn't interpret the plain expression he wore, but a wave of terror washed through me as he said, "Miss Woodwork, I'd like you to join me in my office."