What was worse was that I wasn’t sure I had much to tell about the boys as it was. Dad was entering his security sweep, so unless the guards moved quickly, I wouldn’t have any dates this week . . . meaning nothing to share on next week’s Report. Tonight had to matter, and I wasn’t sure how to do it.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, like I was missing some key piece of information that would make the Selection process better.

It wasn’t an absolute disaster in my eyes, if only because I got to know Kile, Henri, Hale, and Fox. But as far as the public knew, nearly everything was going down in flames.

Even though I’d only glanced at the paper that day for a millisecond, I remembered the way I looked shrinking down on the parade float. Worse than that, I could still see people on the sidelines pointing and laughing. We’d kicked out two candidates this week alone for misconduct, and in their wake every romantic gesture had been completely overshadowed.

It looked so, so bad.

I sat in my room, sketching, trying to organize my thoughts. There had to be a way to spin this, to turn it into something good.

My pencil zipped across the page, and it felt like each time a line straightened out, so did a problem. I’d probably have to skip talking about my previous dates this week. Bringing up one would require me to bring up them all, and I didn’t want to rehash Jack’s hands on me.

But maybe, instead of events, I could talk about what I knew of the boys. There was enough to praise, and if I came across as enamored by their talents, it would make sense to be confused about who to choose. It wasn’t that the Selection was falling apart; it was that there were too many good choices.

By the time I had a plan, I also had a beautiful design. The dress came up into a halter, was very fitted, and ended mid-thigh. Over it I drew a sheer, long bubble of a skirt that made it look modest. The colors I’d used—a burgundy for the dress and a golden brown for the overskirt—gave it a delicious autumnal feeling.

I could imagine how I’d style my hair with it. I even knew what jewelry would look best.

As I looked at it, though, I knew this gown was more suited for a starlet than a princess. In my eyes, it was gorgeous without end, but I worried about other people’s opinions. More than any other season of my life, they really mattered now.

“Oh, miss!” Neena said, catching a glimpse of the drawing in passing.

“You like it?”

“It’s the most glamorous thing I’ve ever seen.”

I stared at the gown. “Do you think I could get away with wearing this on the Report?”

She made a face as if I should already know. “You’re basically covered from head to toe, and as long as you don’t plan on coating it in rhinestones, I don’t see why not.”

I petted the paper like I could almost really touch it.

“Should I get started?” Neena asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Actually, could you take me down to the workroom? I think I’d like to help make this one. I want it for tonight.”

“I’d be thrilled,” Neena said. I grabbed my book and followed her into the hallway, more excited than I’d ever been.

It was worth the marathon of cutting and sewing when I walked in for the Report and the first thing I saw was the out-and-out envy in Josie’s eyes. I’d worn a pair of golden heels and curled my hair so it fell loosely over my shoulders, and it was possibly the most beautiful I’d ever felt. The blatant stares from the Selected only confirmed I was particularly lovely tonight, and I was so bewildered, I had to turn my back on them to suppress my grin.

It was then that I felt something was off. There was a pang of tension that seemed to be floating through the room, and it was far more powerful than the pride over my dress or the sense of admiration coming from the boys. It was so weighty, it nearly gave me a chill.

I looked around, searching for a clue. Mom and Dad were in a corner, trying to be discreet. I could tell by Dad’s tensed brow and Mom’s gestures that something was wrong. What I wasn’t sure of was if I could go talk to them. Was a few days of silence enough?

“Hey!” Baden had snuck up on me.

“Hi.”

“Did I startle you?”

I focused politely. “No, I’m fine. A little lost in thought. Do you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could invite you out for dinner or something this week? Maybe another jam session?” He strummed an invisible guitar, biting his smiling lip.

“That’s sweet, but traditionally, I’m supposed to do the asking.”

He shrugged. “So? Didn’t that cooking thing happen because those guys invited you?”

I squinted, trying to remember. “Maybe technically.”

“So, since I didn’t grow up in the palace, I can’t ask, but Kile can?”

“I assure you, Kile has less of an advantage than you’d imagine,” I answered with a laugh, thinking of all the years of frustration.

Baden stood there, silent and unbelieving. “Sure.”

I was completely shocked when he walked away, hands in his pocket and footsteps steady. Had I done something rude? I was being honest. And I hadn’t actually turned him down.

I tried to shake off the snub, focusing on my duty for the evening: being charming and gracious, and trying to convince everyone that I was falling in love.

Dad passed me, and I gently grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and patted my hand. “Nothing, darling.”

The lie shook me more than Baden’s dismissal. People whirred around the room, giving commands and checking notes. I heard Josie laugh, and someone shush her immediately after. The boys talked to one another, all a little too loud to be considered appropriate. Baden was sulking next to Henri, ignoring everyone, and I pressed my hands to my stomach, calming myself.