The Heir (The Selection #4) - Kiera Cass Page 0,97

used to be about losing my quiet house when Gavril walked in, one of the news staff we kept around for the Report trailing him.

He bowed in front of the head table, looking at Dad. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all. What’s wrong?”

Gavril glanced at all the watching eyes. “May I approach you?”

Daddy nodded, and Gavril whispered something in his ear.

Dad squinted in disbelief. “Married?” he asked only loud enough that probably Mom and I could hear. He pulled back to look into Gavril’s eyes.

“Her mother approved. It’s been done, all legal. He’s gone.”

My body turned cold, and I ran from the room.

“No, no, no,” I mumbled, rushing up the stairs. I went to Ahren’s room first. Nothing. Everything looked pristine, no sign of packing or an urgent exit. But, more important, no sign of my brother.

I tore from the room, heading to Camille’s suite. I’d peeked in the day before and had seen her trunks spilling open with so many outfit choices, they probably could have filled my closet. The trunks were still there, all but the smallest. And no Camille.

I fell into the wall, in far too much shock to process this. Ahren was gone. He’d eloped and left me here alone.

I stood there in a daze, not sure what to do. Could I get him back? Gavril said something about legal. What did that mean? Was there any way to undo this?

My world felt dimmer, slightly misaligned and wrong. How was I supposed to do anything without Ahren?

I ended up in my room without realizing I’d even walked there. Neena held out an envelope to me.

“Ahren’s butler delivered this for you about half an hour ago.”

I snatched the paper from her hands.

Eadlyn,

On the off chance that the news has not reached you by the time this letter does, let me tell you what I’ve done. I’ve gone to France with Camille, and, pending her parents’ approval, I intend to marry her immediately. I’m sorry to have run off without you and to have excluded you and Mom and Dad from what I always knew would be the happiest day of my life, but I felt I had no choice.

After speaking with you last night, the last few years made perfect sense to me. I always assumed your dislike for Camille stemmed from you both being in the same situation. You’re young, beautiful women who will inherit a throne. And you and she handle this position in vastly different ways. She is open to everything, while you keep people at a distance. She deals out her power with humility, while you wield yours like a sword. I hate to be so blunt, though I’m sure you already know this about yourself. Still, it brings me no joy to say it.

But your positions are not the reason you dislike her so. You don’t like Camille because she’s the only person who could ever separate you and me.

Your words hit me so hard, Eadlyn. Because I wanted to believe you. I wanted to hear you out and consider your suggestions. I knew that if I did, one day you’d convince me to give up everything for you. Maybe even put your crown on my head. And, heaven knows, I would have done it. I would do anything for you.

So before you could ask for my life, I gave it to Camille.

I wish you could find love, Eadlyn. The reckless, relentless kind that consumes you. If you could, then maybe you’d understand. I hope someday you will.

My happiness with Camille is tarnished by one thing: that I may be estranged from you if you choose not to forgive me. That sadness will be great, but far more bearable than my separation from my soul mate.

Even as I write this I miss you. I cannot imagine us being so far apart. Please find a way to forgive me and know that I love you. Maybe not as deeply as you’d like, but still.

As a testimony to my desire to always be there for you, I want to give you one last piece of information, something that may help you in the coming months.

More provinces are protesting the monarchy than you could guess. Not all of them, but plenty. And while it pains me to tell you this, the problem people have with the monarchy stems from one person: you.

I don’t know why—perhaps because of your youth, perhaps because of your gender, perhaps for reasons none of us could