part four ♚ decrepit

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Emmaline and I would constantly write letters to each other back and forth. We couldn't always meet on Fridays, but the letters were great. Emmaline said she hated writing them because she was better at expressing herself through music, but she loved reading the ones I wrote because, according to her, I always said things perfectly.

Weeks passed. I bound stacks of Emmaline's letters with ribbon and set them in my closet, hidden from my siblings. We planned out every detail of the Selection, scheduling about when my eliminations would be due depending on the situations and such. My father explained everything he had done during his Selection and I took careful notes. The forms rolled in, and then it was time.

I was set in a room with blank envelopes in large baskets. My father smiled and gestured for me to go ahead. "Choose."

I did. It was a slow, painstaking process that made me hope I chose the right people, ones that wouldn't try hurting me or only wanting to be around me for the crown. I hoped I chose Emmaline, but I knew that was a stretch--the odds were not in the favor of that. Once I was finished, I handed the envelopes to Officer Leger, who would carefully do every background check with my father. The press had pictures of me choosing, and then I was free.

The time flew past until the Report in which it would all be revealed, and my hands and voice were steady as I looked at the pictures and read off the names. Emmaline wasn't chosen. I tried not to be disappointed, but it was hard.

My sister and my mother figured out the basics of decorating the rooms for the girls while Osten laughed manically and scribbled things down in his notebook. He got a wide-eyed and innocent look on his face whenever someone looked at him, and when I asked him not to prank anyone unless asked, he swore he wouldn't and said he'd focus on Eadlyn to cut me some slack.

"She needs to loosen up a bit, anyway." He'd said. Then a devilish grin took over his innocent features. "What do you think of green slime in her hair?"

I chuckled, ruffling his reddish-blonde hair--the red courtesy of Mom, the blondish color from Dad--and shook my head. "Whatever you think is best, little brother. Just don't do it too much, or she might have you executed."

"Yeah, right." He snorted. "I'm Mom and Dad's baby. She can't do shit."

"Osten!" My mother's head whipped around. "No swearing!"

"But Kaden swears!" He whined.

"Kaden's also an adult!" My mother snapped. "No swearing, or I'll have Eadlyn hang you."

Osten gaped at her. "Mom! I thought I was your favorite!"

"Actually," she said, "I think Ahren is my favorite now, since he's not around to misbehave." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't think we don't know that you've been sneaking out, young man. The guards aren't stupid, and Aspen was more than happy to let me know that you've snuck out more than once, and one time you weren't even dressed like a normal teenager. Care to explain?"

Eadlyn turned, curious, and shooed the maids out. Then she turned back to us and raised her eyebrows.

"I was meeting a friend." I picked up a folder and started flipping through it. It was Eadlyn's sketches, obviously, various layouts for the rooms for the Selected with different colored walls and curtains and sheets.

"Was this friend a girl?" Osten teased, and I turned to glare at him. He grinned evilly and started laughing loudly.

"Was it?" Eadlyn asked.

"Yes," I said, still examining the layouts. Eadlyn let out a loud huff and snatched it from my hands, grumbling about how she knew I didn't care about what their rooms would look like. "Does it really matter that she's a girl?"

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