The Selected | ✓

Chapter 8

A/N: Cassiana's dress is on the right (it's for after the /\/\/\/\/\/\)

The cameras did a quick scan or two more of the room and left. All of the other girls eat at a somewhat moderate pace, while I slowly chew my food. It's better than anything I've ever had—ever—and anything I think I will ever have again.

I eat until I'm half-full, determined not to overstuff myself. I'd really rather not throw up on my first day. I take a chocolate chip muffin, using the tongs carefully. The only time I'd ever had it was when I'd picked a completely untouched one in a brown paper bag up off of the street.

In all truth, there is no competition as to which is better.

I look around to see if the other lower caste girls are enjoying their meal—more curiosity than courtesy, really—and then I notice something. No girls here are under a Four or Five. None except me. Do the princes realize this? They hardly seem like ones to judge based off of caste.

Aquia smiles at me from a few seats down, on the side that Alexander sits on. Her eyes flick between me and Mason as if to say, see? You'd be cute.

Then her eyes flick over in Alexander's direction. I glance over at him in time to see him look away. I raise an eyebrow at Aquia in question. She shrugs and goes back to eating.

Clara nudges me a little with her elbow. She smiles and leans close. "Mason thinks you're pretty." She whispers so that no one can hear. She glances at Celine. "And she is a whore."

I cover my mouth with my napkin to cover a smile.

Celine smiles from her place next to Prince Alexander at Clara. She narrows her eyes at me.

"I don't see why she thinks of me as competition." I whisper to Clara.

She rolls her eyes. "We'll finish this conversation in a less public place. I refuse to debate this early in the morning."

I smile. I glance up, surprised to see myself looking at Alexander. Clara leans over a little. "My room is the fifth on the left. On the third floor. After breakfast, feel free to come up. I'll tell the guards you have my permission to have access to my room."

"Thank you, Clara."

She beams at me. "Not a problem, Cassiana. I like you already."

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

After breakfast, I go to my room to get changed. Apparently, when one is going to meet a princess, you need to dress in better than a sundress. I don't really see the point, truthfully. But my maids dress me in a long, beautiful red and black gown. It is strapless, with beadwork on the bodice. The skirt is full-ish, I guess, with red under a black fishnet-like covering. Then they make me wear small black heels, which take a moment or two of walking back and forth for me to get used to wearing.

I follow Clara's exact instructions, going to the fifth room on the left of the third floor. The guards barely give me a second glance.

Unsure of what else to do, I knock on the door.

Clara herself opens it, and smiles when she sees me. "Hello, Cassiana! I wasn't expecting you so early. And oh, you look so pretty! Come in!" She opens the door wider, and I enter.

The first thing I notice is how my room and Clara's look exactly alike—everything neat, put away, clean. The second is Clara's dress—a light pink dress with blue flowers and green leaves on it. The skirt is slightly pleated and short, and her silver and gold bracelets chiming as they bump into each other.

And the third is that both of the princes are in here.

She waves her hand in a dismissive gesture at her brothers, who are both still in their black suits. They're both watching me in half confusion and half awe. Well, the second one is more for Mason. I'm not so sure about Alexander.

"Cassiana, we weren't expecting you here."

Clara rolls her eyes. "Don't get all puppy dog eyed on me, Mason. She wasn't expecting you, either. I invited her."

"Clara, you know the rules." Alexander warns.

She rolls her eyes again. "Screw the rules. I'm the princess—Mom and Dad really don't care, anyway. They knew that Cassiana was coming. I asked them to tell the guards."

I look at her. "I thought you were going to."

"Moi?" She looks at me in surprise. "Never me. They absolutely terrify me!"

I laugh, looking down at her. Her head reaches my lower ribs.

Alexander shakes his head. "Clara."

"Alexander." She mocks him. "Oh come on, you two haven't been able to stop talking about her since last night."

I feel myself blush. Mason does too, though Alexander has no reaction. "I am merely humoring you two. I don't see why they bother with this—can a man not run a country on his own?"

I cock my head to the side. "But don't you want a wife? Someone to smile with and tell everything to?"

"And argue with all the time and yell at? No thank you."

"But what about love, Alexander?" Clara says in exasperation. "What about that?" You can tell that they've had this argument many times.

He snaps the book in his hand shut. "Love doesn't exist, Clara. And don't use that whole but Mother and Father love each other argument, because they met the same way that I have met all of these girls today. It wasn't love—it was arranged. He just felt that she was the only one he could trust. Love does not exist." He stands up to leave.

"What about hate?" I ask quietly.

He turns. "What about it?"

I turn to face him. "Well, love is at one end of the spectrum, no? And hate is at the opposite. So if there is no such thing as love, there is no such thing as hate, since one evil cannot exist without something good. That means that happiness and joy cannot exist either, because there must be something holding it all together. Then anger and sadness cannot exist. And so on with that. So are you saying that emotions and feelings all together do not exist?"

Mason smirks at his brother.

Alexander stares at me, though in amazement or just irritation that I have proved him wrong I'm not sure. He shakes his head. "Time bombs, I swear." He leaves with the ghost of a smile hanging on his lips.