The Selection

Chapter 15

The flashbulbs went off again, capturing Maxon and Natalie smiling brightly. "Natalie, bring your chin down just a touch, please. That's it." The photographer snapped another picture, filling the room with light. "I think that will do. Who's next?" he called. Celeste came in from the side, a general group of maids still swarming around her before the photographer started up again. Natalie, still beside Maxon, said something and kicked up her foot flirtatiously behind her. He responded quietly, and she giggled as she walked away. We'd been told after yesterday's history lesson that this photo shoot was merely for the amusement of the public, but I couldn't help thinking that there was some actual weight to it. Someone had written an editorial in a magazine about the look of a princess. I didn't get to read the article myself, but Emmica and some of the others did. According to her, it was about Maxon needing to find someone who actually looked regal and photographed well with him, someone who would look nice on a stamp. And now we were all lined up in identical cream-colored, cap-sleeved, drop-waist dresses with a heavy red sash across our shoulders, taking pictures with Maxon. The photos would be printed in the same magazine, and the magazine staff was going to make picks. I was kind of uncomfortable with it all. This was the thing I'd been bothered about since the beginning, that Maxon was looking for nothing more than a pretty face. Now that I'd met him, I was sure that wasn't true, but it got to me that people thought that Maxon was like that. I sighed. Some of the girls were walking around, munching on no-drip foods and chatting, but the majority, including myself, were standing around the perimeter of the set erected in the Great Room. A huge golden tapestry that reminded me of the drop cloths Dad used at home was hung up against a wall and spilled across the floor. A small couch was off to one side and a pillar was on the other. In the middle the Illean emblem stood, giving the whole silly thing an air of being patriotic. We watched as each Selected paraded across the space to be photographed, and many who watched were whispering things they liked and didn't or what they were planning for themselves. Celeste walked up to Maxon with a sparkle in her eyes, and he smiled as she approached. The moment she reached him, she put her lips to his ear and whispered something. Whatever it was, Maxon leaned his head back with laughter and nodded, agreeing with her little secret. It was strange to see them like that. How could someone who got along so well with me do the same with someone like her? "All right, miss, just face the camera and smile, please," the photographer called, and Celeste immediately complied. She turned herself toward Maxon and placed a hand on his chest, tilted her head down, and gave an expert smile. She seemed to understand how to use the lighting and set to her best advantage and kept moving Maxon over a few inches or insisting on changing their pose. Where some of the girls took their time and made their turn with Maxon last-particularly those who still hadn't secured a date-Celeste appeared to want to show her efficiency instead. In a bolt of speed, she was done, and the photographer called for the next girl. I was so busy watching Celeste run her fingers down Maxon's arm as she exited that a maid had to gently remind me it was my turn.

"Hello Lady Florence." He says putting his hands out to me. "Your sash is wonky." I say moving it back into place. It's heavy. His uniform, which looked almost like something the guards would wear, only far more elegant, also had golden things on his shoulders and a sword hanging off his hip. It was a bit much. "Look at the camera, please," the photographer called. I looked up and saw not just his eyes but the faces of all the other girls watching, and my nerves shot up. I feel maxon grab my waist and pull me close. "I'm still mad at you." I say and I feel his hand trace up my back. "Sure you are." He says as the photographer shoots a picture of us both smiling at that comment. photographer shouted out instructions and Maxon shifted from a close embrace to a loose one, or turned me so my back was against his chest. "Do you have something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I say when we get into that position. He laughs and shows me the sash digging into my back. "Excellent," the photographer said. "Could we get a few on the lounge?" I love pictures. "Let me make it up to you, I'll be at your room at 6pm right after dinner. Wear something comfy." Maxon says and I wink. "I'll think about it." I say and he pulls me into his lap. "Prince maxon is this professional!" I say and we both burst out into laughter. I hope the photographer was catching the moments just before my face scrunched together, otherwise this whole thing was going to be a disaster. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a waving hand, and a moment later Maxon turned as well. A man in a suit was standing there, and he clearly needed to speak to the prince. Maxon nodded, but the man hesitated, looking to him and then to me, evidently questioning my presence.

"She's fine," Maxon said, and the man came over and knelt before him. I guess he does trust me."Rebel attack in Midston, Your Majesty," he said. Maxon sighed and dropped his head wearily. "They burned acres of crops and killed about a dozen people." "Where in Midston?" "The west, sir, near the border." Maxon nodded slowly and looked as if he was adding this piece of information to others in his head. "What does my father say?" "Actually, Your Majesty, he wanted your thoughts." Maxon seemed taken aback for a split second, then spoke. "Localize troops in the southeast of Sota and all along Tammins. Don't go as far south as Midston, it'd be a waste. See if we can intercept them." The man stood and bowed. "Excellent, sir." As swiftly as he'd come, he vanished. I knew we were supposed to get back to the pictures, but Maxon didn't seem nearly so interested in it all now. "Are you all right?" I asked. He nodded somberly. "Just all those people." "Maybe we should stop," I suggested. He shook his head, straightened up, and smiled, placing my hand in his. "One thing you must master in this profession is the ability to appear calm when you feel anything but. Please smile, Florence." I raised myself up and gave a confident smile to the camera as the photographer clicked away. In the middle of those last few frames, Maxon squeezed my hand tight, and I did the same to his. In that moment, it felt like we had a connection, something true and deep. "Thank you very much. Next, please," the photographer sang. As Maxon and I stood, he held on to my hand. "Please don't say anything. It's imperative you're discreet." "Of course." The click of a pair of heels coming toward us reminded me that we weren't alone, but I kind of wanted to stay. He gave my hand one last squeeze and released me, and as I walked away, I considered several things. How nice it felt that Maxon trusted me enough to let me know this secret, and how it had sort of felt like we were alone for a moment. Then I thought about the rebels, and how the king was usually quick to point out their sedition, but I was supposed to keep this news to myself. It didn't quite make sense. "Janelle, my dear," Maxon said as the next girl approached. I smiled to myself at the tired endearment. He lowered his voice, but I still heard. "Before I forget, are you free this afternoon?" Something kind of knotted in my stomach. I knew exactly what that was. Jealousy.