His Choice (The Selection)

Chapter Thirty Three

Wrote by firerose11

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"But, Ember, I can't even thread a needle. How am I suppose to stitch up a tear when I can't thread the stupid needle to do it?" Bexley whined from the chair she was sitting in.

Abigail and I exchanged a quick look, and I resisted the urge to say the cutting remark on the tip of my tongue, remembering what Carmen had revealed. Instead, I turned to the other and quickly slipped the end of the thread through the eye of the needle, knotting it.

Sewing was the only task that Bexley would even consider, and rather than argue with her about pulling her weight, the two of us made sure that the more menial tasks were completed.

"I'm not cooking her meal for her," Abigail whispered bitterly as we lugged a bag of the trash through the hallways. "That's going too far, and perhaps if she is a murderer, she'll try to kill me and get caught in the act."

"Don't be so gloomy," I answered. "It's only for a little longer. This elimination will end, and we'll never have to team up with Bexley again."

She snorted. "You're only saying that because you already cooked your meal. Besides, do you think if I die, will the royal family reimburse my family for my death?"

I tossed the trash bag to an unfortunate guard that just happened to walk by. "Could you please take that out for us? I just remembered something important."

He nodded silently before vanishing back the way he came.

"Abigail, you need to stop talking like that," I said, placing my hands on her shoulders. "If I win this whole thing, I want you at my wedding, and I'm not setting your rotting corpse in a chair. After this elimination is over, we'll talk with Carmen and Savannah and not even look at Bexley."

My friend bit her bottom lip. "Ember, I'm the poorest girl left. Who's to say that they won't knock me out just because I wouldn't normally be able to afford any of the things I'm surrounded by? Bexley may be horrible, but she is important and rich and beautiful. That's why Celia wants her to marry Charles, and even if I wanted to marry the prince, I wouldn't ever stand a chance."

"This isn't Celia's Selection despite what she seems to think," I said firmly. "If Charles loved you, he would choose you. It's as simple as that. Just because you come from a less fortunate family than the rest of us doesn't mean that you don't have riches."

I tapped her chest above where her heart would be. "You have a kind heart, you're friendly, and you are gorgeous, Abigail. If I take nothing else away from this Selection, I will always be grateful that I had a chance to meet you.

"You make me appreciate things in my life that I had never thought of before. I don't have to scrimp to make sure that there's enough money for food, I don't have to work my fingers to the bone to survive, and I know that my family will always be there. I have become a better person because of you, and I'll never regret that."

Abigail smiled, tears filling her eyes, before wrapping her arms tightly around me. I returned the embrace, trying to convey everything I couldn't put into words. How much I appreciated her and everything that she had done, intentionally and unintentionally.

"I don't remember receiving an invitation to the hugfest," Charles's teasing voice said from behind me. "I feel very unwelcome in my own home."

My friend unwound her arms when she heard his voice. "Prince Charles, may I speak to you in private for a moment?"

I managed to swallow my chuckle of amusement at her formal tone. "Well, I'm taking that as my cue to leave. Abigail, I'll be with Bexley. Feel free to join us whenever you're done talking to the prince."