The hint of bitterness in her tone made me think she was referring to her own mother, but I didn’t want to ask about specifics.
“I know. I’m fortunate to have such a wonderful one.”
She sighed, melting a little. “Your mom is a natural. In a way, she was like a second mother to me when I was younger, and I learned a lot from her.”
I squinted. “I didn’t realize you’d been around the palace that long.” I tried to remember if there was a time when I hadn’t seen her in the hallways, though I’d never paid much attention to the advisers until I hit thirteen and started working with Dad in earnest. Perhaps I simply didn’t notice.
“Yes, miss. I’ve been here almost as long as you,” she replied with a laugh. “Your parents are far too generous.”
Eighteen years was a long time to hold a position in the palace, especially as an adviser. Dad switched most people in and out every five to eight years based on recommendations and the mood of the country. What kept Lady Brice in her place for so long?
I studied her as she swept her hair over her shoulder and smiled. Had Dad let her stay because she was attractive? No. I felt guilty for even thinking Dad could be capable of being that shallow or selfish.
“Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I’ll tell Dad you came by.”
“Thanks, Your Highness. It’s not terribly urgent, so there’s no rush. You have a good day.”
“You, too.”
She curtsied and left, and I watched the door long after she was gone, curious about this woman I’d apparently known all my life without realizing it. I shrugged it away, turning back to my papers. Between the Selection and work, there was no room in my head for Lady Brice.
CHAPTER 21
DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS PLEASANT because I could tell the boys had learned from Jack’s mistake. They all sat a little taller as I entered, nodding their heads as I passed, and I sensed that, once again, I’d regained control.
Dad looked a little calmer as well, though I could tell he hadn’t quite let go of all his worry. Ahren leaned across the table to give me a conspiratorial wink, and it was almost like this terrible thing had made life a little better.
Dad had suggested that I try to make conversation with the boys at dinner, but calling out over all those people felt rude. I didn’t think I could do that, at least not in a way that felt natural. I knew that, even with what I’d gone through, I was expected to get back out there. Instead of talking, I looked at my options. . . .
Of all the boys left, Ean struck me as the most intimidating. Not because he seemed violent in any way, but because of that constant pride and calmness that hung around him, like an earthquake couldn’t make him move if he didn’t want it to.
So maybe going out with him next would conquer a fear in some way. There was no way he was as impervious as he seemed. We’d simply need to do something in the open and make sure the photographers came.
As if he could read my thoughts, Ean looked up at me at that very second, and I turned away, pretending to be engrossed with my brother.
I noticed Kaden was reading a newspaper beneath the table.
“What’s that article about?” I asked.
He answered without looking away, like he was trying to finish his day’s work before the end of dinner. “A collection going around in an area in Midston. They’re raising money for a girl to go to art school. She’s talented, but she can’t afford to study on her own. She says . . . hold on. Here it is. ‘I come from a line of Threes. My family thinks it’s beneath me to study art, even though the castes no longer exist. It’s hard. I remind them that the queen was born a Five, and she’s brilliant. They won’t pay for my schooling, so I’m asking for help to pursue my dreams.’
“Look at the picture of her paintings. They aren’t bad.”
I grew up with a deep appreciation for art, and while her work wasn’t an aesthetic I particularly cared for, I could see she was talented.
“They’re good. It’s so silly. The point of getting rid of the castes was so people could have the choice of whatever profession they wanted, and they’re not even using it. It’s almost like they don’t want it to work.”
“Setting up a system to allow something doesn’t mean people will do it.”
“Obviously,” I commented coldly, sipping my drink.
“The key is to make them understand that. Do you remember Mom showing us those old history books and how the United States had that paper”—he paused to think of the name—“the Declaration of Independence? And it said the people were allowed to pursue happiness. But no person making that document could actually hand over happiness.”
I smiled. “You’re too smart.”
“I’d take that as a compliment, but last week you were caught kissing Kile in the dark.”
“Oh, ha ha ha,” I said, tempted to stick out my tongue at him. “It’s not like my opinion ever mattered much anyway.”
“Are you going to marry Kile?”
I nearly choked. “No!”
Kaden laughed wildly, making most of the room look our way.
“I take it back,” I said, dabbing my lips. “You are a singularly gifted idiot!”
I stood, flicking Kaden’s ear as I passed. “Hey!”
“Thanks for being there for me, Kaden. You’re a great brother.”
He rubbed at his ear, still grinning. “I try.”
Marry Kile, I thought, doing my best not to burst out laughing again. If he could continue to be discreet, the chances of me kissing Kile again were very, very high . . . but I couldn’t imagine actually being married to him.