The Elite (The Selection #2) - Kiera Cass Page 0,42

work in teams to prepare a reception for your respective guests, including a meal, entertainment, and gifts,” Silvia explained.

I gulped as she continued.

“It is very important for us to maintain the relationships we have as well as to forge new ones with other countries. We have outlines of proper etiquette for interacting with these guests, as well as guides for what’s typically frowned on when hosting events for them. However, the actual execution is in your hands.”

“We wanted to make it as fair as possible,” the queen said. “I think we’ve done a good job of putting you all on the same field. Celeste, Natalie, and Elise, you will be organizing one reception. Kriss and America, you will take care of the other. And since you have one less person, you will have one more day. Our visitors from the German Federation will be coming on Wednesday, and we’ll be receiving guests from Italy on Thursday.”

There was a short moment of silence as we took that in.

“You mean we have four days?” Celeste screeched.

“Yes,” Silvia said. “But a queen has to do this work alone and sometimes on far less notice.”

The panic was palpable.

“Can we have our papers, please?” Kriss asked, holding out her hand. Instinctively, I put mine out as well. Within seconds we were devouring the pages.

“This is going to be tough,” Kriss said. “Even with the extra day.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “We’re going to win.”

She laughed nervously. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” I said decisively, “there’s no way I’m letting Celeste do better than me.”

It took two hours to read through the packet and one more to digest everything it said. There were so many different things to consider, so many details to plan. Silvia claimed she would be at our disposal, but I had a feeling asking for help would make her think we couldn’t do a good enough job on our own, so that was out.

The setup was going to be challenging. We weren’t allowed to use red flowers because they were associated with secrecy. We weren’t allowed to use yellow flowers because they were associated with jealousy. And we weren’t allowed to use purple anything because that color was associated with bad luck.

The wine, food, everything had to be opulent. Luxury wasn’t seen as showing off; it was meant to make a statement about the palace. If it wasn’t good enough, our guests might leave unimpressed and completely unwilling to meet with us again. On top of all that, the regular things we were supposed to have learned—speaking clearly, proper table manners, and the like—had to be adapted to a culture of which neither Kriss nor I had any knowledge besides what was printed in our packets.

It was incredibly intimidating.

Kriss and I spent the day taking notes and brainstorming while the others did the same thing at a nearby table. As the afternoon wore on, our groups started complaining back and forth about who had the worse situation, and after a while it was actually kind of funny.

“You two at least get another day to work,” Elise said.

“But Illéa and the German Federation are already allies. The Italians might hate everything we do!” Kriss worried.

“Do you know we’re supposed to wear dark colors for ours?” Celeste complained. “It’s going to be a very … rigid event.”

“We probably don’t want it to be floppy anyway,” Natalie said, doing a little shimmy. She laughed at her own joke, and I smiled before moving on.

“Well, ours is supposed to be superfestive. And you all have to wear your best jewelry,” I instructed. “You need to make a great first impression, and appearances are very important.”

“Thank goodness I’ll get to look good at one of these stupid things.” Celeste sighed, shaking her head.

In the end, it was clear we were all struggling. After everything that had happened with Marlee and then being somewhat dismissed by the king, I felt strangely comforted to know we were miserable together. But it would be a lie to say that paranoia didn’t take over before the end of the day. I was convinced that one of the other girls—Celeste in particular—might try to sabotage our reception.

“How loyal are your maids?” I asked Kriss at dinner.

“Very. Why?”

“I wonder whether we should store some things in our rooms instead of in the parlor. You know, so the other girls don’t try to take our ideas.” It was only a tiny lie.

She nodded. “That’s a good idea. Especially since we go second, and