The Elite (Selection)

almost easy.” Kriss smiled. I meant it, too. She was tireless. “And you’re right; it’s been hard without Marlee, but I wouldn’t quit. This is going to be great.”
    Kriss bit her lip and considered for a moment. Quickly, as if she might lose her nerve, she spoke. “So you’re still competing then? You still want Maxon?”
    It wasn’t like I didn’t know what we were all doing here, but none of the other girls had spoken about it like that. I was caught off guard for a moment, wondering if I should answer her. And, if I did, what would I say?
    “Girls!” Silvia trilled, rushing in through the doorway. I’d never been so grateful to see that woman. “It’s nearly time. Are you ready?”
    Behind her, the queen came in, a soothing calm to balance Silvia’s energy. She studied the room, admiring our work. It was a huge relief to see her smile.
    “Almost ready,” Kriss said. “We just have a few details to take care of. One we specifically need you and the queen for.”
    “Oh?” Silvia said curiously.
    The queen approached us then, her dark eyes warm with pride. “It’s beautiful. And you both look stunning.”
    “Thank you,” we chorused. The pale-blue dresses with large gold accents had been my idea. Festive and lovely, but not too over the top.
    “Well, you might notice our necklaces,” Kriss said. “We thought that if they were similar, it would help people identify us as hosts.”
    “Excellent idea,” Silvia said, scribbling on her clipboard.
    Kriss and I smiled at each other. “Since you are both hosts here, too, we thought you should have ones as well,” I said as Kriss pulled the boxes off the table.
    “You didn’t!” The queen gasped.
    “For … for me?” Silvia asked.
    “Of course,” Kriss said sweetly, handing over the jewelry.
    “You’ve both been so helpful. This is your project, too,” I added.
    I could see how touched the queen was by our gesture, but Silvia was completely speechless. I suddenly wondered if anyone at the palace ever gave her any kind of attention. Yes, we’d thought up the idea yesterday as a way to get Silvia on our side, but I was glad we’d done it for more than just that now.
    Silvia might be overwhelming, but she did try to do all this instruction for our benefit. I vowed to do a better job of thanking her.
    A butler told us our guests were arriving, and Kriss and I stood on either side of the double doors to welcome people as they came. The band started playing softly in the background, maids began circulating with hors d’oeuvres, and we were ready.
    Elise, Celeste, and Natalie were walking toward us, surprisingly on time. Once they caught sight of our setup—the billowing fabric covering the drab walls, the sparkling centerpieces towering on our tables, the overflowing flowers—there was a clear ache in the eyes of Elise and Celeste. Natalie, however, was too excited to be bothered.
    “It smells like the gardens,” she said with a sigh, practically dancing into the room.
    “A bit too much like it,” Celeste added. “You’re going to give people a headache.” Leave it to her to find fault with something beautiful.
    “Try to sit at different tables,” Kriss suggested as they poured past. “The Italians are here to make friends.”
    Celeste sucked her teeth, acting as if this was putting her out. I wanted to tell her to pull it together: We had been on our best behavior for her reception. But then I heard the warm buzzing conversation of the Italian women as they came down the hall and forgot all about her.
    The best way to describe the Italian ladies was statuesque. They were tall, golden skinned, and absolutely beautiful. As if that wasn’t enough, they were all so good-natured. It was like they carried the sun inside their souls and let it shine out on everything around them.
    The Italian monarchy was even younger than Illéa’s. They had been closed off to our attempts at friendship for decades, according to the packet I’d read, and this was the only time they’d ever reached out to us. This meeting was the first step toward a closer relationship with a growing government. It had been frightening to think about until the moment they walked through the doorway, and their kindness melted my worries. They kissed Kriss and me on both cheeks and yelled “Salve!” I happily tried to match their level of enthusiasm.
    I botched some of my Italian phrases, but our visitors were gracious, laughing off my mistakes and helping