The Crown (The Selection #5) - Kiera Cass Page 0,36
before turning around to scan the shelf behind him.
“General Leger?”
“He said they would be here. Are they right in front of me and I’m missing them?”
“Sir?”
“One thing, that’s all I had to do. I can’t even find a pair of glasses.”
“General?”
“Yes?” he replied without looking at me.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course.” He searched and searched, not pausing until I laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“You wouldn’t lie to my father. Please don’t lie to me.”
He finally looked up from his task, bewilderment in his eyes. “When did you get so tall?” he asked. “And so eloquent? I feel like it was just yesterday that your mother was rushing into the room to get us to come watch your first steps.” He smiled a little. “I don’t know if you know, but Ahren nearly beat you to the punch. But even back then, you weren’t going to let anyone show you up.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I will be. I’ve never been good at accepting defeat, even when it was the best thing. Lucy’s actually taking this better than I am, though not by much.” He squinted. “I assume you know what I’m talking about.”
I sighed. “I do. But only barely. I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve been so focused on myself I didn’t realize how much you’d struggled. I wish I’d been more sensitive about all this.”
“Don’t blame yourself. We don’t live in the palace, and not having a family isn’t something we willingly chat about. Besides, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Nothing?”
“Like I said, we’re accepting defeat. In the beginning we thought we had so much time, and when we tried to get help, it just kept falling through. Lucy can’t take it anymore.” He paused, swallowing before he gave me a weak smile. “I hope I’ve done right by you. As an official, as a friend. You’re the closest I’ll ever have to a daughter, so that matters to me.”
I found myself near tears, thinking of how I’d called him a backup parent not that long ago. “You have. Of course you have. And not just by me but by every other child in this palace you helped raise.”
He squinted.
“Mr. Woodwork had a broken leg when Kile was ready to learn to ride a bike. I remember you running behind him on the gravel in front of the palace until he finally figured out how to balance.”
General Leger nodded, the ghost of a grin on his face. “That’s true. I did that.”
“And Mom and Dad were in New Asia when Kaden lost his first tooth, right? Miss Lucy was the one who helped him get it out. And she taught Josie how to put on eyeliner. Don’t you remember how she bragged about it for weeks?”
“What I remember is Marlee telling her to wipe it off,” he said, his spirits rising.
“And you taught Ahren and Kaden how to handle a saber. Kaden recently suggested a duel, and the first thing I thought of was how he would have won hands down thanks to you.”
General Leger watched me. “I treasure those memories. I do. I’d defend all of you to my last breath. Even if I wasn’t essentially paid to.”
I giggled. “I know. Which is why there’s no one else I’d trust with my life.” I reached out for his hand. “Please take the day off. No one’s going to invade today, and if they do, I’ll call you,” I added quickly when I could see he was going to protest. “Go spend time with Miss Lucy. Remind her of every good thing you’ve been to each other, and remind her of everything you’ve been to us. I know it’s not a reasonable substitute, but do it all the same.”
“I haven’t found the glasses yet.”
“I’m sure he’s left them in the parlor. I’ll take care of it. You go.”
He gripped my hand one last time before letting it go and dropping into a bow. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I watched him leave, leaning against the desk as I considered the general and Miss Lucy and their life together. They’d faced so much sadness, so much disappointment, and yet he still showed up every day, ready to serve. So did Miss Lucy. It was a strange thing to measure them beside my parents, whose lives had seemed to fall into place perfectly.
I was surrounded by examples of how love, real love, could make you less bothered by your circumstances, whether it was facing the greatest disappointment