Eadlyn Selects

A Lot To Be Desired

The next morning, I am refreshed enough to plead with Dad about dissolving the monarchy. It's so simple. I explain how we need to both abdicate and then arrange legislation for Illea's first democratic vote. He is calmer than yesterday and refrains from pacing. He seems to have a pitying patience for me rather than what I want, respect and agreement.

"It doesn't need to happen overnight," I say. "Let's try to have the constitution amended in one month and the legislation ready to be approved in two. But, the current cabinet needs to go. Like, yesterday." I gulp in air, hoping for the best. That's the most I've spoken since my return. The "conversation" was completely one-sided and now I'm worn out.

Dad sits mutely. He may be quiet but I don't think he's actually absorbing my points.

"Well?" I ask. I know I sound bratty but I mean, I expected him to nod or say, Go on, or Interesting...something. 

He opens his mouth. Closes it. He's in a deep gray suit and his perfectly pressed white shirt collar is the same shade as his face.

"Eady, you're still unwell. We will get you the help you need."

I clench my jaw. Before shouting at him like I want to, I take a second to observe his gray hairs, the lines around his eyes, and the stubble that usually means he's been working non-stop. I know I should let this go for now but I can't. I'm worried I'll settle back into the complacency I had before Hale. I never questioned the average level of education or income of my people. I never asked to travel or inspect anything. It was easier, but it wasn't right to be so willingly blind. I was drafting treaties for New Asia's import tax when my own country was gasping for air.

"Can you at least email me those figures I asked for?" I whine. 

"Eady, we are inasanely busy. Fennick is working as fast as he can."

I narrow my eyes. "Send him to see me then." I have some strong words for the man in charge of Illea's labor standards and regulations.

"You are in the infirmary because you are recovering. I will not allow you to conduct business meetings from your bed. It's not just your body healing, Eady. You've been through a major trauma."

"And she's home now," Mom says, breezing in. She's in pressed jeans and a vibrant green blazer. Her eyes scan me as if she's checking for new injuries. Finding none, she produces an ice pop from behind her back and hands it to me.

I take it in my least injured palm and let the coolness touch my healing lips. "Thankyousomuch," I rush out.

Casting what I would deem an irritated glance at Dad, she then softly asks me, "How did you sleep, dear?"

"Don't call me that!" I shout. They stare in shock at me. "Dear. He called me that, Hale. And sweetheart. Never call me that!" My hands shake and I have to steady them by pressing them to the sheet.

"Okay, I won't. Eadlyn is your name and I'll call you that, okay?" Mom talks like I'm five again. Dad looks nauseated.

I nod.

"The nurses tell me Kile stayed the night...again?" Mom finally says. "That's awfully sweet. Is that okay with you de—Eady? Eadlyn?"

I nod again. The pop is dripping onto the pristine ivory sheets, making a Rorschach design.

"He helps me when I wake up from the nightmares," I murmur.

"I would have—" Mom starts to say.

I interrupt, "No, you need to be with Dad. And you're still recovering too. Kile's the one I want." Truer words I've never spoken. 

Dad stands up and begins pacing in that frenetic way he has, like a caged beast.