I tried to be quiet, but she heard me all the same.
“Hello, darling,” she called, pulling her fingers away from the keys. “Come sit with me.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I walked across the room, settling next to her on the bench.
“You didn’t. I was clearing my head, and I feel much better now.”
“Is something wrong?”
She smiled distractedly and rubbed her hand over my back. “No. Just the everyday wear and tear of the job.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, running my fingers along the keys, not actually making any sound.
“I keep thinking that I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve seen it all, where I’ve mastered everything about being queen. No sooner do I think it than everything changes. There are . . . Well, you have enough to worry about today. Let’s not bother with it.”
With some work she pasted a smile back onto her face, and while I wanted to know what was troubling her—because, in the end, all those troubles also fell on me—she was right. I simply couldn’t deal with it today.
It seemed she hardly could either.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes despite her efforts. “Entering the Selection and ending up queen?”
I was grateful she didn’t just immediately say yes or no but actually considered the question.
“I don’t regret marrying your father. I sometimes wonder about the life I would have had without the Selection, or if I had still come to the palace but lost. I think I would have been fine. Not unhappy exactly, but not aware of what else there could have been for me. But the path to him was a difficult one, mostly because I didn’t want to walk it.”
“At all?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t my idea to enter the Selection.”
My mouth fell open. She’d never told me that. “Whose was it?”
“That’s not important,” she answered quickly. “But I can tell you that I understand your reservations. I think the process will teach you a lot about yourself. I hope you’ll trust me on this.”
“It’d be a lot easier to trust you if I knew you were doing this for me and not to buy yourself some peace.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.
She took a deep breath. “I know you think this is selfish, but you’ll see. One day the welfare of the country will be on your shoulders, and you’ll be surprised at what you’d try in order to keep it all from crumbling. I never thought we’d have another Selection, but plans change when that much is demanded of you.”
“Plenty is demanded of me now,” I shot back.
“One, watch your tone,” she warned. “And two, you only see a fraction of the work. You have no idea how much pressure is placed on your father.”
I sat there, silent. I wanted to leave. If she didn’t like my tone, then why did she push me?
“Eadlyn,” she began quietly. “The timing of this happened to fall when it did. But, honestly, sooner or later I would have done something.”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem shut off in a way, disconnected from your people. I know you’re constantly worried about the demands you will face as queen, but it’s time you see the needs of others.”
“You don’t think I do that now?” Did she see what I did all day?
She pressed her lips together. “No, honey. Not if it comes before your comfort.”
I wanted to scream at her, and at Dad, too. Sure, I took shelter in long baths or a drink with dinner. I didn’t think that was too much to ask for considering what I sacrificed.
“I didn’t realize you thought I was so flawed.” I stood, turning away.
“Eadlyn, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“It is. That’s fine.” I made my way to the door. The accusation filled me with so much rage I could barely stand it.
“Eadlyn, darling, we want you to be the best queen you can be, that’s all,” she pleaded.
“I will,” I answered, one foot in the hallway. “And I certainly don’t need a boy to show me how to do that.”
I tried to calm myself before walking away. It felt like the universe was plotting against me, its arms taking turns swatting me down. I repeated in my head that it was only three months, only three months . . . until I heard someone crying.
“Are you sure?” It sounded like General Leger.
“I talked with her this morning. She decided to keep it.” Miss Lucy pulled in a jagged breath.
“Did you tell her that we could give that baby everything? That we had more money than we could ever spend? That we’d love it, no matter its faults?” General Leger’s words fell out in a whispered rush.
“All that and more,” Miss Lucy insisted. “I knew there was a huge chance of the baby being born with mental issues. I told her we’d be able to tend to any need he had, that the queen herself would see to it. She said she talked with her family, and they agreed to help her, and that she never really wanted to let the baby go in the first place. She only looked into adoption because she thought she’d be alone. She apologized, like that could fix it.”
Miss Lucy sniffed as if she was trying to quiet her sobs. I drew close to the corner of the passage, listening
“I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” She said those words kindly, bravely. “I think we need to accept that it’s over. Years of treatments, so many miscarriages, three failed adoptions . . . we just need to let it go.”