From time to time her interviews on the
In further disturbing news, we have heard reports that Miss Singer attempted to release Miss Tames during her caning, which in this reporter’s eyes makes her an accessory to the treacherous activities in which Miss Tames was partaking by being unfaithful to our prince.
With all of these reports (and with Miss Tames no longer in the top spot) one question remains: Who should be the new princess?
A quick poll of readers has confirmed what we’ve suspected all along.
We congratulate Miss Celeste Newsome and Miss Kriss Ambers for their neck-and-neck places on the top of our public poll. Elise Whisks takes the third spot, with Natalie Luca not too far behind.
In a wide gap between fourth and fifth places, America Singer comes (unsurprisingly) in last.
I think I speak for all of Illea when I encourage Prince Maxon to take his time finding us a good princess. We narrowly avoided disaster by Miss Tames exposing her true nature before a crown was placed on her head. Whoever you love, Prince Maxon, make sure she’s worthy. We want to love her, too!
CHAPTER 13
I RAN FROM THE ROOM. Of course Celeste wasn’t doing me a favor. She was showing me my place. Why was I even bothering with this? The king was expecting me to fail, the public didn’t want me, and I was sure I couldn’t be a princess.
I made my way upstairs quickly and quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. There was no telling who that magazine’s unnamed source was.
“My lady,” Anne said when I walked through the doorway. “I thought you’d be downstairs until lunch for sure.”
“Could you leave, please?”
“I’m sorry?”
I huffed, trying not to lose my patience. “I need to be alone. Please?”
Without a word, they curtsied and left me. I went to the piano. I would distract myself until I couldn’t think about this anymore. I played a handful of songs that I knew by heart, but that was too easy. I needed to really focus.
I stood up and dug through the bench for something more challenging. I burrowed past pages of sheet music until the edge of a book peeked out at me. Illea’s diary! I’d completely forgotten it was down here. This would be a great distraction. I carried the book over to the bed and opened it, taking in the ancient pages as they flipped through my hands.
The diary opened to the page with the Halloween picture, the stiff photo acting as a natural bookmark, and I reread the entry.
I looked at the picture again, wondering about the girl in particular. How old was she? What was her job? Did she like being Gregory Illea’s daughter? Did it make her very popular?
I turned the page and realized that it wasn’t a new entry but a continuation of the Halloween post.
I got chills. I couldn’t help but compare Maxon to his predecessor. Gregory seemed inspired. He was trying to take something broken and make it whole. I wondered what he’d say about the monarchy if he was here today.
When Aspen slid my door open that night, I was nearly bursting at the seams to tell him what I’d read.
But I remembered that I’d already mentioned to my dad that the diary existed, and even that was going past what I’d sworn to do.
“How have you been?” he asked, kneeling by my bed.
“All right, I suppose. Celeste showed me this article today.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure I want to get into it. I’m so tired of her.”
“I guess with Marlee gone, he won’t be sending anyone home for a while, huh?”
I shrugged. I knew the public had been looking forward to an elimination, and what happened with Marlee was more dramatic than anything anyone expected.
“Hey,” he said, risking a touch in the light of the wide-open door. “It’s going to be all right.”
“I know. I just miss her. And I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?”
“Everything. What I’m doing here, who I am. I thought I knew …. I don’t even know how to explain it right.” That seemed to be the problem lately. Every thought that passed through my head was sloppy. I couldn’t line up anything.
“You know who you are, Mer. Don’t let them try to change you.” His voice was so sincere, and for a minute I did feel sure. Not because I had any answers, but because I had Aspen. If I ever lost sight of who I really was, I knew he’d be there to guide me back.
“Aspen, can I ask you something?” He nodded. “This is kind of strange, but if being the princess didn’t mean I had to marry someone, if it was just a job someone could pick me for, do you think I could do it?”
Aspen’s green eyes grew wide for a second, taking in the enormity of that question. To his credit, I could see him considering the possibility.
“Sorry, Mer. I don’t. You don’t have it in you to be as calculating as they are.” There was an apology in his expression, but I wasn’t offended that he thought I couldn’t do it. I was a bit surprised at his reasoning though.
“Calculating? How so?”
He sighed. “I’m everywhere, Mer. I hear things. There’s a lot of turmoil down South, in the areas with a heavy concentration of lower castes. From what the older guards say, those people never particularly agreed with Gregory Illea’s methods, and there’s been unrest down there for a long time.
Rumor has it, that was part of why the queen was so attractive to the king. She came from the South, and it appeased them for a while. Not so much anymore it seems.”
I thought again about bringing up the diary, but I didn’t. “That doesn’t explain what you meant by calculating.”
He hesitated. “I was in one of the offices the other day, before all the Halloween stuff. They were mentioning rebel sympathizers in the South. I was told to see these letters to the postal wing safely. It was over three hundred letters, America. Three hundred families who were getting knocked down a caste for not reporting things or for helping someone the palace saw as a threat.”
I sucked in a breath.
“I know. Can you imagine? What if it was you, and all you knew how to do was play the piano?
Suddenly you’re supposed to know how to do clerical work, how to find those jobs even? It’s a pretty clear message.”
