“Did you really just use the w o r d
she asked incredulously.
“I’m afraid I did,” I answered with a chuckle. “Forgive me, it’s a product of my education.” She muttered something unintelligible.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s ridiculous!” she yelled. My, she had a temper. Father must not know much about this one.
Certainly, no girl with this disposition would have made it into the pool if he had. It was lucky for her that I was the one who came upon her in her distress, and not him. She would have been sent home about five minutes ago.
“What is?” I inquired, though I was sure she was referencing this very moment.
I’d never experienced anything quite like this.
“This contest! The whole thing!
Haven’t you ever loved anyone at all? Is this really how you want to pick a wife? Are you really so shallow?”
That stung. Shallow? I went to sit on the bench, so it would be easier to talk. I wanted this girl, whoever she was, to understand where I was coming from, what things looked like from my end. I tried not to get distracted by the curve of her waist and hip and leg, even the look of her bare foot.
“I can see how I would seem that way, how this whole thing could seem like it’s nothing more than cheap entertainment,” I said, nodding. “But in my world, I am very guarded. I don’t meet very many women. The ones I do are daughters of diplomats, and we usually have very little to discuss.
And that’s when we manage to speak the same language.”
I smiled, thinking of the awkward moments when I had to sit through long dinners in silence next to young women who I was meant to entertain, and failing dismally because the translators were busy talking politics. I looked to the girl, expecting her to laugh along with me for my trouble.
When her tight lips refused to smile, I cleared my throat and moved on.
“Circumstances being what they are,” I said, fidgeting with my hands, “I haven’t had the opportunity to fall in love.” She seemed to forget I wasn’t really allowed to until now. Then I was curious. Hoping I wasn’t alone, I voiced my most intimate question.
“Have you?”
“Yes,” she said. She sounded both proud and sad in a single word.
“Then you have been quite lucky.”
I looked at the grass for a moment. I continued on, not wanting to linger on my rather embarrassing lack of experience.
“My mother and father were married this way and are quite happy. I hope to find happiness, too. To find a woman who all of Illea can love, someone to be my companion and to help entertain the leaders of other nations. Someone who will befriend my friends and be my confidante. I’m ready to find my wife.”
EvenI could hear the desperation, the hope, the longing.
The doubt crept back in. What if no one here could love me?
I looked down at this girl, who seemed desperate in her own way.
“Do you really feel like this is a cage?”
“Yes, I do,” she breathed. Then, a second later, “Your Majesty.”
I laughed. “I’ve felt that way more than once myself. But, you must admit, it is a very beautiful cage.”
“For you,” she shot back skeptically. “Fill your beautiful cage with thirty-four other men all fighting over the same thing. See how nice it is then.”
“Have there really been arguments over me? Don’t you all realize I’m the one doing the choosing?” I didn’t know whether to feel excited or worried, but it was interesting to think about. Maybe if someone really wanted me that much, I’d want them, too.
“Actually, that was unfair,” she added. “They’re fighting over two things. Some fight for you; others fight for the crown. And they all think they’ve already figured out what to say and do so your choice will be obvious.”
“Ah, yes. The man or the crown. I’m afraid some cannot tell the difference.” I shook my head and stared into the grass.
“Good luck there,” she said comically.
But there was nothing comical about it. Here was another one of my biggest fears being confirmed.
Again my curiosity overwhelmed me, though I was sure she would lie.
“Which do you fight for?”
“Actually, I’m here by mistake.”
“Mistake?”
How was that possible? If she put her name in, and it was drawn, and she willingly came here . . .
“Yes. I sort of—well, it’s a long story,” she said. I would have to learn what that was all about eventually. “And now . . . I’m here.
And I’m not fighting. My plan is to enjoy the food until you kick me out.”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. This girl was the antithesis of everything I’d been expecting. Waiting to be kicked out? Here for the food? I was, surprisingly, enjoying this. Maybe it would all be as simple as Mom said it would be, and I could get to know the candidates over time, like I did with Daphne.
“What are you?” I asked. She couldn’t be more than a Four if she was so excited about the food.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, not catching my meaning.
I didn’t want to be insulting, so I started high. “A Two? Three?”
“Five.”
So this was one of the Fives. I knew Father wouldn’t be thrilled about me being friendly with her, but after all, he was the one who let her in. “Ah, yes, then food would probably be good motivation to stay.” I chuckled again, and tried to find out the name of this entertaining young woman. “I’m sorry, I can’t read your pin in the dark.”
She gave a slight shake of her head. If she asked why I didn’t know her name yet I wondered which would sound better: a lie—
that I had far too much work to do to put them to memory at the moment—or the truth—that I was so nervous about all this, I’d been putting it off until the last second.
Which I suddenly realized I’d just passed.
“I’m America.”
“Well, that’s perfect,” I said with a laugh. Based on her name alone, I couldn’t believe she’d made the cut. That was the name of the old country, a stubborn and flawed land we rebuilt into something strong. Then again, maybe that was why Father let her in: to show he had no fear or worries about our past, even if the rebels clung to it foolishly.
For me, there was something musical about the word. “America, my dear, I do hope you find something in this cage worth fighting for. After all this, I can only imagine what it would be like to see you actually try.”
I left the bench and knelt beside her, taking her hand. She was looking at our fingers and not into my eyes, and thank goodness for that. If she were, she’d have seen how absolutely floored I was the first time I finally, truly saw her.
The clouds moved at just the right moment, fully lighting her face by the moon. As if it weren’t enough that she was willing to stand up to me and clearly unafraid to be herself, she was dazzlingly beautiful.
Underneath thick lashes were eyes blue as ice, something cool to balance out the flames in her hair.
Her cheeks were smooth and slightly blushed from crying. And her lips, soft and pink, slightly parted as she studied our hands.
I felt a strange flutter in my chest, like the glow of a fireplace or the warmth of the afternoon. It stayed there for a moment, playing with my pulse.
I mentally chastised myself.
How typical to become so infatuated with the first girl I was ever allowed to actually have any sort of feelings for. It was foolish, too quick to be real, and I pushed the warmth away. All the same, I didn’t want to dismiss her. Time might prove that she was someone worth having in the running.
