The Heir

“Hello! Hyvää iltaa!” He kissed my cheek, which, again, would have been shocking from anyone else.

“He says ‘Good evening.’”

“Oh um . . . heevat eelah?” I mumbled, attempting to duplicate his words.

He chuckled as I butchered his language. “Good, good!” Was he always this cheerful?

I turned to Erik. “How bad was it really?”

His tone was kind, but he wasn’t going to lie. “I’m sorry to say, there is no way I could have even guessed at what that was.”

I smiled, genuinely. The pair of them were so unassuming, and considering how alienated Henri must have felt, that was saying something.

Before I could continue the conversation, Josie was beside me. “Great party, Eadlyn. You’re Henri, right? I’ve seen your picture,” she said in a rush, sticking her hand out to greet him.

He must have been confused, but he accepted the gesture all the same.

“I’m Josie. Eadlyn and I are practically sisters,” she gushed.

“Except that we’re not related at all,” I added.

Erik tried to convey everything to Henri quickly and quietly, which distracted Josie.

“Who are you?” she asked. “I don’t remember seeing your picture.”

“I’m Sir Henri’s translator. He only speaks Finnish.”

Josie looked incredibly disappointed. I realized then that she must have come over because she found Henri attractive. He certainly seemed younger than most of the others and did have that happy-go-lucky air about him, which she must have thought suited her better than me.

“So . . . ,” she began, “how does he, like, even live?”

Without even checking with Henri, Erik spoke up. “If you’re practically Her Highness’s sister, then I’m sure the palace has afforded you an excellent education. So, of course you know the relations between Illéa and Swendway are old and strong, drawing many Swendish people to settle here, making small communities, and vice versa. It’s not difficult at all.”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to grin at how articulately he put Josie in her place.

Josie nodded. “Oh, of course. Umm . . .” And that was as hard as she was willing to try. “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered once she was out of earshot. “It has nothing to do with you two. She’s just terrible.”

“No offense taken,” Erik replied honestly. He conversed back and forth for a moment with Henri in Finnish, presumably catching him up on what just happened.

“Pardon me. I need to speak with someone, but I’ll see you at dinner.” I curtsied and left them, searching for any sort of retreat.

I’d been totally thrown off by that interview earlier, and I was proud that I pulled myself back together in the aftermath. But Josie had the ability to ruffle me without fail.

I saw Mom alone and rushed over to her, hoping for some solace. Instead I was greeted by a glare similar to Ahren’s when I’d first come in.

“Why didn’t you tell us that was what you were going to do?” she asked quietly, holding a smile as if nothing was wrong.

I did the same as I answered. “I thought it would be good. That’s what Dad did.”

“Yes, but he did it on a much smaller scale and privately. You put their shame on display. No one will admire you for that.”

I huffed. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t realize.”

She put an arm around me. “I don’t mean to be hard on you. We know you’re trying.” Just then a photographer came up to get a candid photo of us talking. I wondered what the headline for that one would be? Something about the Selected teaching the Selector maybe.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

She looked around the room, double-checking that no one could hear. “Just . . . consider a little romance. Nothing scandalous, for goodness’ sake,” she added quickly. “But watching you fall in love . . . that’s what the people want to see.”

“I can’t make that happen. I can’t—”

“America, dear,” Dad called. It looked like Osten had spilled something on himself, and Mom rushed over to lead him away.

I would have bet money that whatever just happened was a deliberate attempt on Osten’s part to get out of the room.

I stood there alone, trying to be inconspicuous as I scanned the room. Too many strangers. Too many eyes watching and waiting for me to perform. I was ready for the Selection to be over about four hours ago. I took a deep breath. Three months would buy me freedom. I could do this. I had to.

I walked across the room deliberately, knowing who I needed to speak to. Once I found him, I leaned in and spoke in his ear.

“Come to my room. Eight o’clock sharp. Tell no one.”

CHAPTER 12

I PACED AS I WAITED for the knock to come. Kile was really the only person I could trust with this task, though I was loath to ask him. I was prepared to strike a bargain, but I wasn’t sure what I could offer him yet. I felt confident he’d have his own ideas.

The raps on the door were quiet, and I could almost hear the question in them: What am I doing here?

I pulled the door open and there, right on time, was Kile.

“Your Highness,” he said with a comical bow. “I’ve come to sweep you off your feet.”

“Hardy har. Get in here.”

Kile walked in and surveyed my shelves. “Last time I was in your room, you had a collection of wooden ponies.”

“Outgrew that.”

“But not being a bossy tyrant?”

“Nope. Just like you didn’t outgrow being an insufferable bookworm.”

“Is this how you win over all your dates?”

I smirked. “More or less. Sit down. I have a proposition for you.”

He spotted the wine I’d provided and wasted no time in pouring himself a glass. “You want some?”

I sighed. “Please. We’ll both need it.”

He paused, eyeing me before continuing. “Now I’m nervous. What do you want?”

I took my glass, trying to remember how I wanted to explain this to him. “You know me, Kile. You’ve known me my whole life.”

“True. In fact, I was thinking yesterday that I have a vague recollection of you running around in nothing but a diaper. It was a good look.”

I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh. “Anyway. You, to some degree, understand my personality, who I am when the cameras aren’t rolling.”