The Heir (The Selection #4) - Kiera Cass Page 0,8

of sacrifice here, with the others doing as they pleased.

“I won’t let you down,” I promised. “You do what you must. Make your plans, find a way to appease our public, and I will give you an acceptable window of time to pull it all together.”

His eyes darted toward the ceiling in thought. “Three months? And you swear you’ll try?”

I held up my hand. “I give you my word. I’ll even sign something if you like, but I can’t promise you I’ll fall in love.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure if I was you,” he said knowingly. But I wasn’t him, and I wasn’t Mom. No matter how romantic he thought this was, all I could think of were the thirty-five loud, obnoxious, weird-smelling boys who were about to invade my home. Nothing about that sounded magical.

“It’s a deal.”

I stood, practically ready to dance. “Really?”

“Really.”

I took his hand and sealed my future with a single shake. “Thank you, Dad.”

I left the room before he could see how big my smile was. I had already been running through how I could get most of the boys to leave of their own volition. I could be intimidating when I needed to be or find ways to make the palace a very unwelcoming environment. I also had a secret weapon in Osten, who was the most mischievous of us all and would help me if I asked him to, probably with minimal persuasion.

I admired the thought of a common boy feeling brave enough to face the challenge of becoming a prince. But no one was going to tie me down before I was ready, and I was going to make sure those poor suckers knew what they were signing up for.

They kept the studio cold, but once the lights came on, we might as well have been in an oven for all the good it did. I’d learned years ago to keep my clothing choices for the Report airy, which was why my dress tonight fell off my shoulders. My look was classy, as always, but not something that would subject me to a heatstroke.

“That’s the perfect dress,” Mom commented, pulling at the little ruffles on the sleeves. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

She smiled as she continued to straighten my dress. “Thank you, sweetheart. I know you’re feeling a little overwhelmed, but I think a Selection will be good for everyone. You’re alone a lot, and it’s something we would have to think about eventually, and—”

“And it will make the people happy. I know.”

I tried to hide the misery in my voice. We had technically moved past selling off the royal daughters, but . . . this didn’t feel that different. Didn’t she get that?

Her eyes moved from the gown to my face. Something in them told me she was sorry.

“I know you feel like this is a sacrifice; and it’s true that when you live a life of service, there are many things you do, not because you want to, but because you must.” She swallowed. “But through this I found your father, and I found my closest friends, and I learned that I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. I know about the agreement you made with your dad, and if this ends without you finding the right person, so be it. But please, let yourself experience something here. Sharpen yourself, learn something. And try not to hate us for asking you to do it.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You at least considered it when we proposed this,” she said with a grin. “Didn’t you?”

“I’m eighteen. I’m genetically encoded to fight with my parents.”

“I don’t mind a good fight so long as you still know how much I love you in the end.”

I reached to hug her. “And I love you. Promise.”

She held me for a moment, then pulled away, smoothing my dress to make sure I was still immaculate before she went to find Dad. I walked to take my seat next to Ahren, who wiggled his eyebrows at me teasingly. “Looking good, sis. Practically bridal.”

I swung my skirt and sat down gracefully. “One more word and I will shave your head in your sleep.”

“I love you, too.”

I tried not to smile but failed. He just always knew.

The room filled with the palace household. Miss Lucy sat alone, as General Leger was on rounds, and Mr. and Mrs. Woodwork sat behind the cameras with Kile and Josie. They were the Woodworks’ only children, and I knew Miss Marlee meant

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