The Heir (The Selection #4)(12)

“Plenty is demanded of me now,” I shot back.

“One, watch your tone,” she warned. “And two, you only see a fraction of the work. You have no idea how much pressure is placed on your father.”

I sat there, silent. I wanted to leave. If she didn’t like my tone, then why did she push me?

“Eadlyn,” she began quietly. “The timing of this happened to fall when it did. But, honestly, sooner or later I would have done something.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem shut off in a way, disconnected from your people. I know you’re constantly worried about the demands you will face as queen, but it’s time you see the needs of others.”

“You don’t think I do that now?” Did she see what I did all day?

She pressed her lips together. “No, honey. Not if it comes before your comfort.”

I wanted to scream at her, and at Dad, too. Sure, I took shelter in long baths or a drink with dinner. I didn’t think that was too much to ask for considering what I sacrificed.

“I didn’t realize you thought I was so flawed.” I stood, turning away.

“Eadlyn, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It is. That’s fine.” I made my way to the door. The accusation filled me with so much rage I could barely stand it.

“Eadlyn, darling, we want you to be the best queen you can be, that’s all,” she pleaded.

“I will,” I answered, one foot in the hallway. “And I certainly don’t need a boy to show me how to do that.”

I tried to calm myself before walking away. It felt like the universe was plotting against me, its arms taking turns swatting me down. I repeated in my head that it was only three months, only three months . . . until I heard someone crying.

“Are you sure?” It sounded like General Leger.

“I talked with her this morning. She decided to keep it.” Miss Lucy pulled in a jagged breath.

“Did you tell her that we could give that baby everything? That we had more money than we could ever spend? That we’d love it, no matter its faults?” General Leger’s words fell out in a whispered rush.

“All that and more,” Miss Lucy insisted. “I knew there was a huge chance of the baby being born with mental issues. I told her we’d be able to tend to any need he had, that the queen herself would see to it. She said she talked with her family, and they agreed to help her, and that she never really wanted to let the baby go in the first place. She only looked into adoption because she thought she’d be alone. She apologized, like that could fix it.”

Miss Lucy sniffed as if she was trying to quiet her sobs. I drew close to the corner of the passage, listening

“I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” She said those words kindly, bravely. “I think we need to accept that it’s over. Years of treatments, so many miscarriages, three failed adoptions . . . we just need to let it go.”

There was a long silence before General Leger answered. “If that’s what you think is best.”

“I do,” she said, her voice sounding assertive, before she sank into tears again. “I still can’t believe I’ll never be a mother.”

A second later her cries were muffled, and I knew her husband had pulled her to his chest, trying to comfort her as best he could.

All these years I had thought the Legers had chosen to be a childless couple. Miss Lucy’s struggles had never made it into conversation when I was in the room, and she seemed content enough to play with us as children and send us on our way. I’d never considered that it might have been an unfortunate circumstance thrust on them.

Was my mother right? Was I not as observant or caring as I thought? Miss Lucy was one of my favorite people in the world. Shouldn’t I have been able to see how sad she was?





CHAPTER 6


THIRTY-FIVE MASSIVE BASKETS SAT IN the office, filled with what must have been tens of thousands of entries, all left in their envelopes to protect the gentlemen’s anonymity. I tried to give off an air of eager anticipation for the sake of the camera, but I felt like I might vomit into one of those baskets at any given moment.

That would be one way to narrow the pool.

Dad placed a hand on my back. “All right, Eady. Just walk to each basket and select an envelope. I’ll hold them for you so your hands don’t get full. Then we’ll open them live tonight on the Report. It’s that easy.”

For something so simple, it seemed incredibly daunting. Then again, I’d felt overwhelmed since we announced the Selection, so this shouldn’t have been a surprise.

I adjusted my favorite tiara and smoothed out my iridescent gray dress. I wanted to make sure I looked positively radiant today, and when I’d checked my reflection before heading downstairs, even I was a little intimidated by the girl in the mirror.

“So I literally select each one myself?” I whispered, hoping the cameras weren’t watching too closely.

He gave me a tiny smile and spoke softly. “It’s a privilege I never had. Go ahead, love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Later. Go on now.” He gestured toward the piles and piles of entries.

I took a deep breath. I could do this. No matter what people were hoping for, I had a plan. And it was foolproof. I would walk away from this unscathed. Just a few months of my life—nothing, in the grand scheme of things—and then I’d go back to the work of becoming queen. Alone.