The Selection series 1-3. Кира Касс

think you’ve been misinformed,” I told them. Anne shrugged with a smile on her face, not concerned at all with my opinion.

      Then I remembered where this had started. “What does any of this have to do with my dress?”

      Mary came over to Anne and began unzipping the long bag, revealing a stunning red dress that shimmered in the fading light falling through the window.

      “Oh, Anne,” I said, absolutely awestruck. “You’ve out-done yourself.”

      She acknowledged my praise with a nod of her head. “Thank you, miss. We all worked on it, though.”

      “It’s beautiful. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with anything you said.”

      Mary pulled the dress out of the bag, airing it out, while Anne continued. “As I said, many people around the palace think you’re the prince’s favorite. He says kind things about you and prefers your company above the others’. And it seems the other girls have noticed.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “We go down to a workroom to do most of the sewing on your dresses. There are stores of material and a place to make shoes, and the other maids are in there, too. Everyone requested a blue dress for tonight. All the maids think it’s because you wear that color almost daily, and the others are trying to copy you.”

      “It’s true,” Lucy chimed in. “Lady Tuesday and Lady Natalie didn’t put on any of their jewelry today. Just like you.”

      “And most of the ladies are requesting simpler dresses, like the ones you prefer,” Mary stated.

      “That still doesn’t explain why you made me a red dress.”

      “To make you noticeable, of course,” Mary answered. “Oh, Lady America, if he really likes you, you have to keep standing out. You’ve been so generous with us, especially Lucy.” We all looked over to Lucy, who nodded in agreement and said, “You—you’re good enough to be the princess. You’d be amazing.”

      I hunted for a way to get out of this. I hated being the center of attention.

      “But what if everyone else is right? What if the reason Maxon likes me is because I’m not as over the top as everyone else, and then you go and put me in something like that and it ruins it all?”

      “Every girl needs to shine once in a while. And we’ve known Maxon most of his life. He would love this.” Anne spoke with such assurance that I felt there was nothing I could do.

      I didn’t know how to explain to them that the notes he sent me, the time he’d spent with me, meant nothing other than friendship between us. I couldn’t tell them. It would deflate their happiness, and besides, I needed to keep up appearances if I wanted to stay. And I did. I needed to stay.

      “Okay, let’s try it on,” I conceded with a sigh.

      Lucy jumped up and down with excitement until Anne reminded her that it wasn’t proper. I slid the silky dress over my head, and they stitched a handful of places they hadn’t quite finished. Mary’s skilled hands held my hair in various ways to see which looked best with the dress, and within half an hour, I was ready.

      The set was arranged a little differently tonight for our special show. The thrones for the royal family were off to one side as always, and our seats were on the opposite side again. But the podium was off center, leaving the space focused on two tall chairs. A microphone was resting on one for us to take when we spoke to Gavril. I got queasy just thinking about it.

      Sure enough, the room was full of dresses in every shade of blue. Some of them fell closer to green, others closer to purple, but it was clear there was a theme. I felt immediately uncomfortable. I caught Celeste’s eye right away and decided to just stay away from her until I absolutely had to go over to the seats.

      Kriss and Natalie walked past, having just checked their makeup one last time. They both looked a little unhappy, though sometimes it was hard to tell with Natalie. Kriss at least looked somewhat different from the crowd as well. Her blue dress was melting into white, like delicate strands of ice were weaving their way to the floor.

      “You look stunning, America,” she said in a way that was slightly more an accusation than praise.

      “Thanks. That dress is gorgeous.”

      She ran her hands down her torso, straightening imaginary wrinkles. “Yeah, I liked it, too.”

      Natalie ran her hand across one of the capped sleeves on my dress. “What’s that material? It’s really going to shine under the lights.”

      “I have no idea, actually. We don’t get a lot of the nice stuff as Fives,” I said with a shrug. I looked down at the fabric. I’d had at least one other dress made from the same type of cloth, but I hadn’t bothered learning the name.

      “America!”

      I looked up to see Celeste standing right beside me. Smiling.

      “Celeste.”

      “Could you come with me for just one moment? I need some help.”

      Without waiting for an answer, she pulled me away from Kriss and Natalie and around the heavy blue curtain that was the backdrop of the Report studio.

      “Take off your dress,” she ordered as she started unzipping her own.

      “What?”

      “I want your dress. Take it off. Ugh! Damn hook,” she said, still trying to get out of her clothes.

      “I’m not taking off my dress,” I said, and went to leave. I didn’t get very far, though, as Celeste buried her nails into my arm and jerked me back.

      “Ouch!” I cried, grabbing my arm. It looked like there would be marks but hopefully no blood.

      “Shut up. Take off the dress. Now.”

      I stood there, my face set, refusing to budge. Celeste was just going to have to get over not being the center of Illéa.

      “I could take it off for you,” she offered coldly.

      “I’m not afraid of you, Celeste,” I said as I crossed my arms. “This dress was made for me, and I’m going to wear it. Next time you pick out your clothes, maybe you should try being yourself instead of me. Oh, wait, but maybe then Maxon would see what a brat you are and send you home, huh?”

      Without a second of hesitation, she reached up and ripped one of my sleeves off and walked away. I gasped in outrage but was too stunned to do anything more. I looked down and saw a tattered scrap of fabric dangling pathetically in front of me. I heard Silvia calling for everyone to come to their seats, so I walked around the side of the curtain as bravely as I could manage.

      Marlee had saved me a seat beside her, and I saw the shocked look on her face as I came into view.

      “What happened to your dress?” she whispered.

      “Celeste,” I explained in disgust.

      Emmica and Samantha, who were sitting in front of us, turned around.

      “She tore your dress?” Emmica asked.

      “Yes.”

      “Go to Maxon and turn her in,” she pleaded. “That girl’s a nightmare.”

      “I know,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll tell him next time I see him.”

      Samantha looked sad. “Who knows when that will be? I thought we’d get to spend more time with him.”

      “America, lift your arm,” Marlee instructed. She expertly tucked my tattered sleeve into the side of my dress as Emmica plucked away a few stray threads. You couldn’t even tell anything had happened to it. As for the nail marks, well, at least they were on my left arm and away from the camera.

      It was almost time to