just fall | ✓

25.

The next morning, it felt like something in the world had shifted, though I think it was just me. It was like I'd been looking through a cheaply-made plastic mold my entire life, and Salvatore had cracked it open when he told me my family history. Maybe it was stupid of me to believe him, but it made sense: it explained why my father had been gone at odd hours that were definitely not spent doing construction work, why my mother knew nothing about him and his family, why I'd never heard about his life before Mom, just that there was a Time Before Mom and a Time After Mom, and that the Time Before Mom was nothing worth mentioning. And it explained why my grandfather hadn't limped even with a cane, at least not really, and why the only thing that deformed him other than that was a deep scar cutting diagonally across his face. At least, that was all I could remember.

The absolute worst part about this newfound discovery was that I couldn't tell Alexander.

I spent the following few days alternating between deciding that I would tell Alexander and deciding against it, not knowing how to explain how drastically my life had changed through a single conversation. Part of me felt like I had to explain what had happened that night; if anyone had found out about it and decided to rat, it was grounds to remove me from the competition and publicly execute me. Those were the rules: any Selected found courting anyone other than the prince(s) is liable to be removed from the Selection and to be punished as the Royal Family and the law see fit. I wanted him to find out before someone told him, but Salvatore assured me that we'd been careful enough that no one had seen, so I remained silent.

My birthday was on Thursday, and the other royals would be leaving on Saturday morning. There was no party like the queen and Clara had planned, but there was a small gathering in the garden for lunch. Alexander looked vaguely stressed the whole time, his face nearly gray like he was contemplating vomiting, and Clara and Mason both looked just as stressed and very pale. I somehow managed to pull Alexander aside long enough to talk to him.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You've been acting strange all day. I'm worried about you."

When I tried to touch him, he stepped back. I pang went through my chest. It must've shown on my face because something flashed across his face, some pained expression that made him look like he'd swallowed something bitter. He hesitantly stepped towards me and gingerly took my hands in his, barely holding them. It was like it hurt him to touch me. "Let's not worry about it today," he said. "We can talk about it tomorrow. Okay?"

I shook my head. "No. Not okay. Definitely not okay. I want to know what's wrong. You and Clara and Mason look like you've been sucker punched in the gut, or like you watched something awful, or –" His expression cut me off.

He ran a hand through his hair, stepping back again. "Cassiana, don't make me do this. Please. Not now, not today." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alexander, you're scaring me." My voice wavered and my hands were trembling. "Talk to me, please." For the past five days, my life had felt great; Alexander had cared for me, I was getting along with most of the Selected and the royals, I felt like I belonged, and I had answers to questions I had never bothered to ask about my family or myself. It felt like I was watching that crumble and burn before my eyes, and I almost hated how much my happiness depended on whatever had been growing between Alexander and I.

He shook his head. "I can't do this right now." He turned and return to the others.

My legs gave out; I'm not sure why. The fall didn't even hurt. My heart hurt more than enough for the rest of me. I covered my face with my hands and contemplated crying, but the tears never came, so I dragged myself to my feet and returned to the party with a smiling mask to hide my hurting heart. I didn't know if no one noticing added to the ache in my now-empty chest.