Happily Ever After

I was going to be its center.

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“RED,” EMON INSISTED. “YOU ALWAYS look stunning in red.”

“But it shouldn’t be so primary. Maybe something deeper, like a wine.” Cindly pulled out another gown, much darker than the first.

I sighed with delight. “That’s the one.”

I didn’t have the fire some of the other girls had, and I wasn’t a Two—but I was starting to think there were other ways to shine. I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

It didn’t take much work to notice that there was a line drawn between the two. The Selected girls were given floral prints or dresses made with gauzy material. The queen’s dresses were statements, bold and imposing. If my personality wasn’t that way, at least my clothes could be.

And I was working on carrying myself differently. If I’d been asked back in Honduragua which was harder, working outside all day or trying to have decent posture for a solid ten hours, I’d have said the first. I was starting to wonder now.

It was the subtleties I wanted to master, the unnameable things that hung around a One. Tonight, on the Report, I wanted to look like the obvious choice. Maybe if I looked that way, I could feel that way.

Any time I felt a sliver of doubt, I thought of Clarkson. There wasn’t a huge, defining moment between us, but when I worried I wasn’t enough, I held on to the little things. He’d said he liked me. He’d told me not to check out. He might have walked away, but he’d also returned. That was enough to give me hope. So I put on my red dress, took a pill to prevent a headache, and prepared to do my best.

We weren’t exactly prepped for when we would or wouldn’t be asked questions or have a discussion. I assumed it was part of the Selection process: finding someone who could think on her feet. So I was disappointed when the Report ended without us getting a chance to speak. I told myself not to be bothered. There would be other opportunities. But while everyone around me sighed with relief, I was down.

Clarkson walked over, and I perked right up. He was coming this way. He was going to take me on a date. I knew it! I knew it!

But he stopped in front of Madeline. He whispered in her ear, and she giggled as she gave him an enthusiastic nod. He held out a hand, allowing her to move forward, but before he followed her, he ducked back and murmured into my cheek.

“Wait up for me.”

He left, not looking back. But I didn’t need him to.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, miss?”

“No, Martha, thank you. I should be just fine.”

I’d dimmed the lights in my room, but I left my dress on. I nearly sent up for some dessert, but I felt certain he’d already have eaten.

I wasn’t sure why, but I felt warm all over, as if my skin was trying to tell me tonight mattered. I wanted it to be perfect.

“You’ll send for me, of course? You shouldn’t be alone at night.”

I reached for her hands, and she didn’t hesitate to let me hold them. “As soon as the prince leaves, I’ll ring for you.”

Martha nodded and squeezed my hands before leaving me alone.

I ran to the bathroom, checked my hair, brushed my teeth, and straightened my dress. I needed to calm down. Every inch of my skin was awake, waiting for him.

I sat at my table, concentrating on my fingertips, palms, wrists. Elbows, shoulders, neck. I went piece by piece, trying to soothe myself. Of course, it was all rendered perfectly useless when Clarkson knocked on the door.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He walked right in. I stood to greet him, and I meant to curtsy, but there was something in his eyes that left me bewildered. I watched him saunter across the floor, his stare intent.

I pulled my hand to my stomach, willing the butterflies inside to still. They weren’t having it.

Wordlessly, he raised a hand to my cheek, brushing my hair back, then left it under my chin. There was a hint of a smile on his face, just before he leaned in.

Growing up, I’d imagined a hundred first kisses with Clarkson. Apparently, I didn’t dream big enough.

He guided me, holding me to him. I thought maybe I’d misstep or stumble, but somehow my hands were in his hair, clutching him as tightly as he was me. He bent and I curved into him, happily surprised at how well we fit.

This was joy. This was love. So many words you hear about or read about, and now … now I knew them.

When he finally pulled away, there were no more butterflies or flickers of nerves. An entirely new feeling was pulsing through my skin.

Our breathing was fast, but it didn’t stop him from speaking.

“You looked stunning tonight. I thought you should know.” His fingers traveled down my arms, across my collarbone, and up into my hair. “Absolutely stunning.”

He kissed me once more and left, stopping to give me a final look at the door.

I wandered over to the bed and fell into it. I meant to call Martha and get her to help me out of my dress, but I felt so beautiful, I just let it be.

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THE NEXT MORNING MY SKIN would tingle without warning. Every move, every brush or breeze resurrected that warm feeling all over me, and my mind wandered to Clarkson each time it happened.

I caught his eye at breakfast twice, and he was wearing a similarly contented expression on both instances. It felt as if a delicious secret was hovering above us.

Though none of us were sure if the rumors about Tia had been true, I decided to take her expulsion as a cautionary tale and keep last night to myself. The fact that no one knew made it even better, more sacred somehow, and I stored it like a treasure.

The only downside of kissing Clarkson was that it made each moment away from him unbearable. I needed to see him again, touch him again. If anyone had asked me what I did that day, I’d never be able to tell them. Every breath was Clarkson’s, and nothing mattered until I was in my room, dressing for dinner, the promise of seeing him the only thing keeping me together.

My maids were completely in tune with my thoughts on my new look, and tonight’s dress was even better. A honey color, with a high waist and a bottom that belled out behind me. It was maybe a little too extravagant for dinner, but I loved it regardless.

I took my seat in the dining hall, blushing when Clarkson winked at me. I wished there was better lighting in here so I could really see his face. I was jealous of the girls on the other side of the room, with all the fading daylight falling in over their shoulders through the windows.

“She’s glowering again,” Kelsa muttered in my direction.

“Who is?”

“The queen. Look at her.”

I peeked up at the head table. Kelsa was right. The queen looked as if the air itself was irritating her. She picked up a wedge of potato with her fork, eyed it, and slammed it back down on the plate.

I saw a few of the girls start at the sound.

“I wonder what happened,” I whispered back.

“I don’t think anything happened. She’s one of those people who can’t be happy. If the king sent her on a break every other week, it wouldn’t be enough. She won’t be satisfied until we’re all gone.” Kelsa was full of contempt for the queen and her vexing disposition. I understood why, of course. Still, for Clarkson’s sake, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her.

“I wonder what she’ll do once Clarkson chooses,” I questioned aloud.