Did people think I was pushy? Selfish? Which were the public enjoying more: the sweet moments between me and the boys or the moments when I looked like a failure?
I straightened up to head to my room, only to see that Erik was waiting outside my door for me and had undoubtedly just watched my crying fit.
I swiped at my face, trying to clean it up, but there was no hiding the puffy eyes or red cheeks. Erik seeing me like this was almost as bad as the original issue, but the only way to make it seem as if it was nothing was to act as if it was nothing.
I walked over to Erik, achingly aware of the sadness in his eyes, and he bowed as I approached.
“I feel like maybe I’ve come at a bad time,” he said, the tiniest hint of sarcasm in his voice.
I smiled. “Ever so slightly,” I answered, acknowledging my hurt against my better judgment. “Still, I’m happy to help you if I can.”
Erik pressed his lips together, unsure if he should go on. “I wanted to talk to you about Henri. He didn’t send me!” he insisted, holding up a hand. “I think he’d come to you himself if he could speak on his own. But he’s embarrassed.” Erik swallowed. “He, uh . . . he told me about the kiss.”
I nodded. “I figured.”
“He’s afraid he’s crossed a line. He said something about holding on to you and that he probably should have let go, but then he didn’t and—”
I shook my head. “That makes it sound much worse than it was. He . . . we . . .” I stood there, lost. “We were trying to communicate, and when the words didn’t work, well, that did.”
For some reason I was upset admitting this to Erik, even though he already knew everything.
“So you’re not cross with him?”
I heaved out a breath, almost laughing because the idea was so bizarre. “No. He’s one of the kindest people I know. I’m not upset with him in the slightest.”
Erik nodded. “Would it be all right if I told him as much?”
“Absolutely.” I wiped at my eyes again, pulling off smudged eyeliner in the process. “Ick.”
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” His voice was so tender but, mercifully, lacking pity. I almost explained what had happened to him, but it was borderline inappropriate. It was one thing to talk about Henri; it was another to discuss the other suitors at length.
“I am. Or will be. Don’t worry about me; just make sure Henri is all right.”
His expression changed slightly, and I could see the weight of that role in his eyes. “I do my best.”
I studied him. “Henri really wants it, doesn’t he?”
Erik shook his head. “There is no ‘it.’ He wants you.”
After Baden’s heart-shattering speech, it was hard to imagine this was possible, but Erik confirmed it as he went on.
“He talks of you endlessly. Each day in the Men’s Parlor, I’m translating political science books to him or trying to explain the difference between the absolute monarchy you have here and the constitutional monarchy he grew up with in Swendway. He even—” Erik paused to chuckle. “He even studies the way your brothers walk and stand. He wants to be worthy of you in every way.”
I swallowed, overcome by this admission. Smirking, trying to dull the feeling, I replied, “But he can’t even speak to me.”
“I know,” he answered solemnly. “Which is why I wonder . . .”
“Wonder what?”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to decide if he should continue. “It’s easiest to learn new languages when you’re a child. And it can be taught later in life, but the accent will probably always be bad. Henri simply has a difficult time retaining it. At the rate he’s going, it would be years before you’d be able to carry on the most basic conversations. And the nuances of languages—slang and colloquialisms—would take years beyond that. Do you understand what that would mean?”
That I wouldn’t be able to communicate with him for who knew how long. By the time the Selection should end, we still would hardly know each other.
“I do.” Two small words, but they felt massive, like they were filling up the entire hallway, crushing me.
“I just thought you should know that. I wanted you to be aware of what things might look like if you had developed feelings for him, too.”
“Thank you,” I breathed.
“Do you?” he asked suddenly. “Have feelings for him?”
I’d been so emotional already that the question sent me into a tailspin. “I honestly have no idea how I feel about anything.”
“Hey.” He reached out a hand before thinking better of it. “I’m sorry. I was being nosy. That’s really none of my business, and you’re obviously having a rough day. I’m an ass.”
I wiped at my nose. “No. You’re trying to be a good friend. To him, to me. It’s no big deal.”
He tucked his hands behind his back. “Well, I am, you know?”
“Huh?”
He sighed, seeming embarrassed. “Your friend. If you need one.”
It was such a simple offer, yet generous in a million ways. “I couldn’t imagine having a better one.”
He beamed but was quiet. It seemed like the times when we were silent were some of the easiest.
Eventually he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you have work to do, but I hate leaving you alone when you feel so bad.”
“No. I kind of prefer it.”
Erik gave me a halfhearted smile. “If you say so.” He bowed. “Hope your day gets better.”
“It already has,” I promised, walking around him to get into my room, a kind smile on my face.
“Miss?” Neena asked as I came through the doorway. I couldn’t imagine how awful I looked.
“Hi, Neena.”
“Are you all right?”
“Not exactly, but I’ll get there. Can you bring me the Selection forms, please? I have work to do.”
Though the confusion on her face was plain, she did as I asked. She also brought a box of tissues.
“Thank you.” I thought I was past the worst of it, but I did tear up again as I looked at the pictures, wondering who was maybe here despite having reservations and hating each of them on the off chance it applied to them all.
“Neena, could you get me some paper?”
Once again she obeyed, bringing a cup of tea along with a notebook. She really was too good.