Eadlyn Selects

The Heart of the Matter

After my talk with Mom, I'm doubting everything. So I go to my safe place—one of the few I have left. I beeline to the sewing room with my sketchbooks and a small chunk of time before my dates.

I find Erik in the sewing room having a cup of tea. He is as surprised to see me as I am him. We greet each other like old friends, embracing and kissing cheeks.

"Eikko! I thought you'd left."

"Not until tomorrow. Your Highness, I had no idea you came down here."

"I love it here. Neena and I used to come all the time. She taught me how to cut a bolt of fabric and not waste an inch."

"You miss her."

"I hate her and I miss her, yes." I admit it freely, feeling more comfortable with Eric than almost anybody else. He's such a great listener and he never acts judgy, just present, and caring.

"Much like your brother?"

I tilt my head and think. Eikko has that way about him, of seeing through to the heart of the matter. "I miss him but I don't hate him. I do wish he had stuck around for me."

"You are close."

"Seven minutes."

"Pardon?"

"I'm seven minutes older. If he was born first, this Selection would be a whole lot different and I would probably live down here, with my sketches in hand and my head in the clouds."

"That sounds nice."

I let out a sad sigh and he squeezes my hand.

"Why are you here?" I look around. "I didn't know they served tea down here."

He chuckles. "I like the noise, the people, bustling, productive. All the decisions and power are upstairs but down here is where everything comes together. The meals are planned and prepped, the laundry churned, things are made, repaired, invented. I love it. It's like a new universe. And people are so kind. Ursula got me this tea, she knows just how I take it now."

I have an odd desire to learn how he likes tea so I can make it next time. It occurs to me I don't know how to make tea, down to where it is kept and what to serve it in.

"Are you sad to leave?" I ask, indulging in a rare bout of blunt curiosity.

"Yes and no. I don't like to go with everything so hard for you. I will miss you and our chats."

I smile at our clasped hands. "I will too," I murmur. "I have so few friends."

"I worry about you."

"I'm fine."

"Are you? You seem unsettled."

"I am unsettled."

"Since the riots."

"Yes."

"It's not your fault."

"Isn't it?

He gapes. "No! It's the system they are revolting against, not you."

"It feels personal."

"It's not." He pats my hand awkwardly.

"Don't go," I say, putting my hand over his.

His teacup rattles as he clumsily sets it down in his saucer on the hearth.

"Please, if you like it here, I can get you a job down here, or as a butler, a translator for the King, anything you want." My words tumble over each other as I become desperate to make him stay, to hold on to just one friend. Is that so much to ask? "You could stay as my guest, or join the Selection...I'm sure I could make it happen. Since Fox got sick you could take his place."

"Oh no, I would never."

"Why? You're eligible. It would keep you here longer. I need a friend. All my old ones are running away."

It was so good to hear him say this wasn't all my fault.

"Your Highness," he says in a stiff unnatural voice, "I could never."

I pull my hands back. "Your emphasis is somewhat insulting. It would have been fine to say you don't find me attractive, or that you miss home too much." I gather my things to leave, fighting back tears.

"No," he says tightly. "I'm not your type. Or you are not mine. If your brother were seven minutes older, I'd be open to the Selection."

I meet his eyes and try to determine if I interpreted that comment correctly.

He nods slowly. "I would never mislead you."

"You didn't," I rush to say. "I was being selfish and needy. Forgive me. But what about staying? Are you at all tempted? I could find a suitable job for you to be able to send money home..." I clasp my hands. It's an honor that he confided in me and I feel even more attached to keeping him close as a friend and confidante. Especially since I am so close to pushing Kile out the door.

He smiles. "It's doable. Let me talk to Henri."

"He wasn't too upset to be eliminated, was he?" I bite my lip.

"No, he assumed it would come to this but he has had a remarkable time and learned so much. He and I are great friends now and this will always be a great memory for him."

"I took what you said seriously. As a public figure it would be cruel to put him in the limelight, when it would be so long before he could even speak for himself. It would not be fair."

"To you either, you deserve a husband who is fully able to be there for you in every way. Henri has the strength to overcome any obstacle, but your status gives him little time. He is such a kind and giving man, he would have taken any public negativity to heart."

"It would have wrecked him."

"You on the other hand, are the strongest woman I know. I am honored you consider me a friend." He takes my hands back into his and gives me a warm squeeze. "I would love to stay."

I beam.

"But I have to check with Henri."

"Of course." I stare at him expectantly.

"You want me to go right now." His lips twitch with laughter.

"Well, when you're done your tea."

We peer into his cup. One sip left. He swallows it.

"Off I go."

"Good luck!"

I finish my sketch in a much better mood than I started.