The Prince: A Selection Novella (HarperTeen Impulse)

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    “Can we do something a bit smaller next year?” I asked.
    “Not likely. You’ll almost certainly be married by then. Your wife might want to have a rather elaborate celebration your first year together.”
    I frowned, something I could get away with in front of her. “Maybe she’ll like things quiet, too.”
    She laughed softly. “Sorry, honey. Any girl who puts her name in for the Selection is looking for a way out of quiet.”
    “Were you?” I wondered aloud. We never talked about her coming here. It was a strange divide between us, but one that I cherished: I was raised in the palace, but she chose to come.
    She stopped and faced me, her expression warm. “I was smitten with the face I saw on TV. I daydreamed about your father the same way thousands of girls daydream about you.”
    I pictured her as a young girl in Honduragua, her hair braided back as she gazed longingly at the television. I could see her sighing every time he had to speak.
    “All girls dream of what it would be like to be a princess,” she added. “To be swept off their feet and wear a crown . . . it’s all I could think about the week before the names were drawn. I didn’t realize that it was so much more than that.” Her face grew a little sad. “I couldn’t guess at the pressure I’d be under or how little privacy I’d have. Still, to be married to your father, to have had you.” She swept her hand down my cheek. “This is all those dreams made real.”
    She held my gaze, smiling, but I could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. I had to get her talking again.
    “So you have no regrets, then?”
    She shook her head. “Not a one. The Selection changed my life, and I mean that in the best way possible. Which is what I want to talk to you about.”
    I squinted. “I’m not sure I understand.”
    She sighed. “I was a Four. I worked in a factory.” She held out her hands. “My fingers were dry and cracked, and dirt was caked under my nails. I had no alliances, no status, nothing worthy of making me a princess . . . and yet, here I am.”
    I stared, still unsure of her point.
    “Maxon, this is my gift to you. I promise I will make every effort to see these girls through your eyes. Not the eyes of a queen, or the eyes of your mother, but yours. Even if the girl you choose is of a very low caste, even if others think she has no value, I will always listen to your reasons for wanting her. And I will do my best to support your choice.”
    After a pause, I understood. “Did Father not have that? Did you not?”
    She pulled herself up. “Every girl will come with pros and cons. Some people will choose to focus on the worst in some of your options and the best in others, and it will make no sense to you why they seem so narrow minded. But I’m here for you, whatever your choice.”
    “You always have been.”
    “True,” she said, taking my arm. “And I know I’m about to play second fiddle to another woman, as I should. But my love for you will never change, Maxon.”
    “Nor mine for you.” I hoped she could hear the sincerity in my voice. I couldn’t imagine a circumstance that would dim my absolute adoration of her.
    “I know.” With a little nudge, she pushed us back to the party.
    As we entered the room to smiles and applause, I considered my mother’s words. She was, beyond anyone I knew, incredibly generous. It was a trait I endeavored to adopt myself. So if this was her gift, it must be more necessary than I could understand at the present. My mother never gave a gift thoughtlessly.

CHAPTER 2
    P EOPLE LINGERED MUCH LATER THAN I thought was appropriate. That was another sacrifice that came with the privilege, I guessed: no one wanted a palace party to end. Not even when the palace wanted it to.
    I’d placed the very drunk dignitary from the German Federation into the care of a guard, thanked all the royal advisors for their gifts, and kissed the hand of nearly every lady who walked through the palace doors. In my eyes, my duty here was done, and I just wanted to spend a few hours in peace. But as I went to escape the lingering partygoers, I was happily stopped by a pair of dark blue eyes.
    “You’ve been avoiding me,” Daphne said, her tone playful and the lilt of her accent tickling my ears. There was always something musical about the way she spoke.
    “Not at all. It was bit more crowded than I thought it would be.” I looked back at the handful of people still