The Prince: A Selection Novella (HarperTeen Impulse)

staring at nothing.
    “You’re the only person who really knows me. The only person I feel I truly know myself.”
    “Knowledge isn’t love,” I contradicted.
    “That’s not true, Maxon. We have a history together, and it’s about to be broken. All for the sake of tradition.” She kept her eyes focused on some invisible space in the center of the room, and I couldn’t guess what she was thinking now. Clearly, I was oblivious to her thoughts in general.
    Finally Daphne turned her face to me. “Maxon, I beg of you, ask your father. Even if he says no, at least I’ll have done everything I could.”
    Positive that I already knew this to be true, I told her what I must. “You already have, Daphne. This is it.” I held out my arms for a moment and let them drop. “This is all it could ever be.”
    She held my gaze for a long time, knowing as I did that asking my father for such an outrageous request was beyond anything I could truly get away with. I saw her search her mind for an alternative path, but she quickly saw there wasn’t one. She was a servant to her crown, I was a servant to mine, and our masters would never cross.
    As she nodded, her face crumpled into tears again. She wandered over to a couch and sat down, holding herself. I stayed still, hoping to not cause her any more grief. I longed to make her laugh, but there wasn’t anything funny about this. I hadn’t known I was capable of breaking a heart.
    I certainly didn’t like it.
    Just then I realized this was about to become common. I would dismiss thirty-four women over the next few months. What if they all reacted this way?
    I huffed, exhausted at the thought.
    At the sound, she looked up. Slowly, the expression on her face changed.
    “Doesn’t this hurt you at all?” she demanded. “You’re not that good an actor, Maxon.”
    “Of course it bothers me.”
    She stood, silently assessing me. “But not for the same reasons it bothers me,” she whispered. She walked across the room, her eyes pleading. “Maxon, you love me.”
    I stayed still.
    “Maxon,” she said more forcefully, “you love me. You do.”
    I had to look away, the intensity in her eyes too bright for me. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to put whatever it was I did feel into words.
    “I’ve never seen anyone express their feelings the way you just did. I have no doubt you mean every word, but I can’t do that, Daphne.”
    “That doesn’t mean you don’t know how to feel it. You just have no idea how to express it. Your father can be as cold as ice, and your mother hides within herself. You’ve never seen people love freely, so you don’t know how to show it. But you feel it; I know you do. You love me as I love you.”
    Slowly, I shook my head, fearing another syllable out of my mouth would start everything up again.
    “Kiss me,” she demanded.
    “What?”
    “Kiss me. If you can kiss me and still say you don’t love me, I’ll never mention this again.”
    I backed away. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
    I didn’t want to confess how literal that was. I wasn’t sure how many boys Daphne had kissed, but I knew it was more than zero. She’d let the fact she’d been kissed come out a few summers ago when I was in France with her. So there. She had me beat, and there was no way I was going to make an even bigger fool out of myself in this moment.
    Her sadness shifted to anger as she backed away from me. She laughed once, no humor in her eyes.
    “So this is your answer, then? You’re saying no? You’re choosing to let me leave?”
    I shrugged.
    “You’re an idiot, Maxon Schreave. Your parents have completely sabotaged you. You could have a thousand girls set before you, and it wouldn’t matter. You’re too stupid to see love when it stands right in front of you.”
    She wiped her eyes and straightened her dress. “I hope to God I never see your face again.”
    The fear in my chest changed, and as she walked away, I grabbed her arm. I didn’t want her to be gone forever.
    “Daphne, I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she said coldly. “Feel sorry for yourself. You’ll find a wife because you have to, but you’ve already known love and let it go.”
    She jerked free and left me alone.
    Happy birthday to me.

CHAPTER 3
    D APHNE SMELLED LIKE CHERRY BARK and almonds. She’d been wearing the same scent since she turned thirteen. She had it on last night, and I could smell it even as she was wishing she’d never see me