The Selected | ✓

Chapter 2

The Two, a pretty girl named Tiffany, smiles when she seems my mother. "Alana! So great to see you." She smiles even brighter when she sees me. "And you must be her daughter. I'm Tiffany."

I shake her hand. "Cassiana."

Her smile widens. "Such a beautiful name. Are you entering in the Selection? I've had the pleasure of meeting Prince Alexander. Such a nice boy. You'd be a great match. Or maybe with Mason..." she keeps going on about how amazing I'd look with the princes and the Selection and on, and on, and on.

Suddenly, she cups her hands around her mouth and yells, "Markus!We have guests!" The shout startles me, coming from someone as sweet and gentle as Tiffany. She doesn't seem like the type of person to shout like that.

A man at least ten years older than her hurries down the stairs. "Yes, my dear?" He sees my mother and I. "Oh, hello, Alana dear."

My mother smiles. "Hello, Markus."

His eyes land on me. "Ah, you must be Cassiana. I've heard a lot about you."

I give him a tight-lipped smile. Something is off about this man. "Yes. That would be me."

Tiffany motions for us to sit on one of the expensive-looking red-and-gold couches. My mother and I do, me with my back up straight, my hands folded in my lap. Just like my mother taught me. Tiffany leans back against the cushions, one ankle resting on her knee. "So what did you come here for, darling? I would assume it's not another job." She glances at me.

My mother smiles politely, but I can see in her eyes that despite my curiosity, I should not ask what jobs my mother does for Tiffany and Markus. "Well, Tiffany. My daughter is entering the Selection, as you know. And they take your picture, from what I've heard."

Tiffany nods. "You need something for her to wear?"

My mother nods. "And to borrow your address and phone number for the papers, if it's not too much trouble. I know that you have clothes you don't need, and—"

"Say no more." Tiffany says, holding up a hand. "I've been wanting to get rid of some clothes for a while." She smiles at me. "I think I have something to suit you. Come with me."

She stands up and leads me upstairs and into a large room. A bedroom, but the bed kind of makes that obvious. She leads me through another pair of doors and into a huge walk-in closet. I feel my eyes widen without meaning too. I'd never really been in a Two's house before. If this is their house, I can't help but wonder what the palace looks like...

She holds her arms out at her sides. "These are my clothes that I no longer need." I can't imagine how filled her other closet must be. "Sit right here." She gestures towards a gold and wine colored ottoman.

Tiffany goes through racks of dresses, her blonde ponytail swaying. At one point she disappears into some hidden racks and returns wiping dust off of her white blouse and black pants. Ten minutes later she kicks off her black heels.

She holds out a plain black cocktail dress with a hot pink cinched belt-thing and some sparkles on it. "Not to be rude, but I don't think that's really..."

"You?" She looks from me to the dress. "You're right." She hangs it back up and goes through the racks again, muttering something about how black is more my color.

She pulls out several more, including a black strapless one insisting that I have the chest to hold it up. I denied that one, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Finally she pulls out a dark red, half-sleeved lace dress. She holds up a thin black belt with it. I nod, and she squeals and makes me try it on.

When I show her, she squeals again. "Oh, it's perfect!" The half sleeves aren't too tight- thank God. It's not stuck to my legs, and even though it comes only three quarters of the way down my thighs, I still like it.

She makes me put on a pair of black flats after I insist on not wearing heels, and I look at myself in the mirror. She claps her hands. "Perfect. Let's show your mother."

My mother's reaction is close to the same thing. She smiles and then covers her mouth with her hands. "You look beautiful, sweetheart." I hug her. I can feel Markus's eyes on my back, and it makes me extremely uncomfortable.

"I want you two to stay here for the night." Tiffany says. My mother opens her mouth to say something, but Tiffany holds up her hand. "Not for the reason you might think, Alana. I want to help your daughter get ready tomorrow. Think of it as... a thank you for what you've done for us."

My mother smiles at her. "I guess you won't let us say no?"

"That's right." Tiffany smiles. "In fact, I'll show you to your rooms."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Alexander leans against the stone railing and sighs. He looks out over the garden and rubs his forehead. His ten-month-younger brother, Mason, stands next to him with a stiff posture.

"How do you feel about the Selection?"

Alexander shrugs. "I don't want it to happen." He runs his hands through his short blonde hair.

"You'll be choosing your wife."

"There are still only thirty-five girls, Mason. How can I find someone that I can love when there aren't very many?"

"I have no confidence either. But you see how happy Father and Mother are."

The balcony doors open. "Alexander? Father wants to see you in his study."

The princes turn to see their thirteen-year-old sister, Clara, looking up at them with her light blue eyes. She has long, thick blonde hair and light skin, her lips a strangely dark pink. She, unlike her brothers, is short for her age.

She fiddles with the shiny ice blue material of her dress. "He says it's important and involves the Selection."

Alexander groans and then leaves, kissing Clara on the top of her head.

Clara joins Mason, climbing up to get a view of the gardens. Her brothers are tall- Alexander is six-four, and Mason is six-three. She hates her height.

Mason looks down and sees black riding boots peeking out from the bottom of her dress. He raises an eyebrow. "No heels?"

"They'd have to force them onto my dead body."

"What about flats?"

"Again, force them onto my dead body."

Mason lets out a snort. "You're a negative little kid, aren't you?"

She narrows her eyes. "Don't call me little." She climbs down from the railing then. "Nothing good is happening. I was hoping for a good scandal between a maid and a guard or something. Nothing."

He laughs. "A maid and a guard?"

"It's happened." She shrugs. "I'm going to go read."

Mason grabs her arm. "Oh no you aren't. You read far too much. Stay out here and get some sunlight."

Clara rolls her eyes, since there is no sun, but she stays. "Fine." she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I'm not going to stay here for long. Mother says that tomorrow is the first day of dropping off the Selection forms, and I would love to see how many girls do. Not only that, but Father also has a say in the choosing, and I really would like to help."

Mason smiles. "Choosing my wife already, Clara?"

"And Alexander's. Oh, I do hope that she can speak French. I've been dying to practice it with someone!"

There's a knock on the door. The prince goes to answer it. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I was wondering if you knew where the little princess is? It is time for her lessons."

The maid, Anna, looks past Mason to Clara. Clara smiles and the maid curtsies. "Very well, Anna. Goodbye, Mason." She waves and leaves with her maid leading the way. Mason waits until she disappears before closing the door.

He might as well wait for Alexander to return.