First Love ♛ The Selection

10 ♛ A Change of Scenery

THOMAS

Anthony pushed my curtains open, the blinding sun shining red on my eyelids. I stirred, my body sore from last night's constant dancing and constant stress. I reached for my face to rub my eye. "Morning," I muttered to him.

"Morning, Your Highness," a different voice replied.

Startled, I forced myself up, only to find a figure near my window that wasn't Anthony at all. I couldn't make them out without my glasses. I hastily grabbed them from my nightstand and shoved them on, only to be greeted by the person I perhaps least expected.

"Isaiah?" I asked.

He smiled half-heartedly, a slight blush on his light brown skin. He wore butler's clothing, not the everyday staff wear or the cook's uniform. I realized abruptly that my sleep had been dreamless—or, perhaps, I was still sleeping.

"Yeah, good morning. Uh—" Isaiah hesitated, then bowed. I wasn't in the right state of mind to tell him not to do that, even if it was proper. My friend's boyfriend bowing to me was weird. There was no better word for it.

I adjusted my glasses. "Where... where is Anthony?"

"Relocated, I think."

"Why?"

"I... don't know." He made a face, somewhat embarrassed, then shrugged. "Happenstance, maybe. So, um... I'm his replacement." He smiled again, but swiftly dropped it when I didn't respond. "Right, and—because I know it's weird, and awkward, and Davian's getting a real kick out of it already, but... you know. At your service."

Despite myself, I chuckled, not even halfway through processing the absurdity of it all. "Alright then," I muttered. I shook my head, fully waking myself up. "Okay. I can live with that. What's on my itinerary?"

"Oh, right!" He brought his hand up to read off of it. Anthony always had it memorized, and especially had never written it on his hand. "Um... photoshoots with the Selected are at noon, and..." He squinted, bringing his hand closer to his face. I fought the urge to laugh. "Her Majesty wants to see you in her office. Sooner rather than later, she said."

"Like every morning. Do you know what it concerns?"

"No, that's..." He turned his palm towards me, as if I could see the smudged handwriting from bed. "That's all it says."

"Probably another bullshit meeting," I said. He laughed, however uncomfortably, and I sighed a heavy sigh that was closer to a groan. "Alright. Can you get me some coffee?"

"Aspirin?"

"No, I—didn't drink." Surprisingly.

"Huh," Isaiah said, making a face that should have offended me, if I weren't so overwhelmed by the absurdity. Isaiah put on the same overdone formality that Davian always did, straightening up. "Right away, sir."

He bowed and left, the door shutting loudly behind him. Questions swarmed my head. Why didn't Anthony tell me he was leaving? Why did no one tell me? And Isaiah as my replacement was, for lack of a better word, awkward. Especially with the state my room was in, my desk piled with fraying textbooks and colorful pens and miscellaneous experiments I toyed with like a child. I showed my desk to no one. Anthony only ever saw it out of necessity, and so he would know not to touch it.

Perhaps that was what Mother wanted to see me for, to tell me Anthony had died. It would be a rather dreadful way to wake up, but not at all unlike my mother, who delivered the news of our ancient cat's death the same way a few years ago. I was sure she wanted to talk about the Selected, though. The thought was equally as dreadful.