“Oh!” Baden exclaimed when Miss Marlee opened the door for him.

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way out. She’s waiting for you.”

Baden looked past her to find me, smiling the entire time. He looked so triumphant, so pleased to be alone together.

“Is that it?” he asked, pointing just behind me.

I spun, taking in the piano. “Yes. The tone on this one is wonderful, and this room has great acoustics.”

He followed me, and I could hear his guitar case bump into his leg or a couch as he navigated through the maze of seats.

Without asking, he found an armless chair and pulled it up beside the piano. I trilled my fingers over the keys, doing a quick scale.

Baden tuned his guitar, which was dark and worn. “How long have you been playing?”

“As long as I can remember. I think Mom sat me down next to her as a toddler, and I just went along with whatever she did.”

“People have always said your mother was a fantastic musician. I think I heard her play on TV once, for a Christmas program or something.”

“She always plays a lot at Christmastime.”

“Her favorite time of the year?” he guessed.

“In a way, sure, but in others, no. And she usually plays when she’s worried or sad.”

“How do you mean?” He tightened a string, finishing his preparations.

“Oh, you know,” I hedged. “Holidays can be stressful.” I didn’t feel right exposing Mom’s memories, losing her father and sister during the same time of year, not to mention a horrific attack that nearly stole my father.

“I can’t imagine being sad at Christmastime here. If she was poor, I could see why she’d be anxious.”

“Why?”

He smiled to himself. “Because it’s hard to watch all your friends getting piles of gifts when you don’t get any.”

“Oh.”

He took the stab at our social differences in stride, not getting mad or calling me a snob, which some might have done. I examined Baden, trying to learn more. The guitar was old, but it was hard to make a call about his financial status while he wore palace-issued clothes. I remembered what Aunt May said about his last name.

“You’re in college, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “Well, it’s on hold for now. Some of my professors were thrown off, but most of them are letting me send assignments back to finish the semester from here.”

“That’s really impressive.”

He shrugged. “I know what I want. So I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”

I gave him a curious smirk. “How does the Selection fit into that?”

“Wow, no holding back there.” Again, no anger. He almost treated it as a joke.

“It’s a fair question, I think.” I started playing one of the classics Mom had taught me. Baden knew the song and joined in. I’d never considered how it would sound with strings.

The music won, and we dropped the conversation. But we didn’t stop communicating. He watched my eyes, and I studied his fingers. I’d never played with anyone before other than Mom, and I was engaged in a way I didn’t know I could be.

We played on with no more than two or three missteps across the entire song. Baden was beaming as we finished.

“I only know a handful of classics. Some Beethoven and Debussy, mostly.”

“You’re so talented! I’ve never imagined songs like that on a guitar.”

“Thanks.” He was only the slightest bit bashful. “To answer your question, I’m here because I want to get married. I haven’t dated much, but when this opportunity came up, I thought it might be worth a try. Am I in love with you? Well, not today. I’d like to know if I could be though.”

Something about his tone made me trust he was being completely transparent. He was trying to find a mate, and I was someone he would never have met if he hadn’t put his name in for the drawing.

“I’d like to make you a promise, if that’s okay,” he offered.

“What kind of promise?”

He plucked at a few strings. “A promise about us.”

“If you’re vowing to give me your unwavering devotion, it’s still too soon.”

Baden shook his head. “No, that’s not in my plan.”

“Okay, then. I’m listening.” His fingers outlined a slightly familiar melody, not a classic, but something I knew. . . . I couldn’t pinpoint it.

“If you found that I wasn’t a reasonable choice for you, you’d send me home so you could focus on your other options. What I want to promise you is this: if I can tell that you’re not the right one for me, I’ll tell you. I don’t want either of us to waste our time.”

I nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Good,” he said smartly, then began bellowing: “Well she walks up in the room with that smile, smile, smile and those legs that go on for a mile, mile, mile! Eyes searching the room for a little fun!”

I laughed, finally recognizing the tune he was playing. It was a Choosing Yesterday song that I sang in the bath more often than I cared to admit.

“I can’t look away from her face, face, face until she starts dancing to that bass, bass, bass! I can’t help it, that girl is number one!”

I joined in on the piano, giggling a little too hard to get all the notes right for the chorus. But we both sang along, botching up the melody and having too much fun to care.

“Oh, she can’t be more than seventeen, but she’s all grown up if you know what I mean. She’s the prettiest thing that I’ve ever seen, yeah, she’s my”—BAM BAM!—“she’s my, she’s my queen!”

I kept up with Baden through most of the song, even though I really only had experience with classical music.

“Why are you bothering with college? You should be touring,” I cheered.

“That’s my backup plan if the prince thing doesn’t pan out.” He was so candid, so real. “Thanks for playing hooky for me.”

“No problem. I should get back to work though.”

“That was the shortest date in history!” he complained.

I shrugged. “You would have had more time if you waited until tonight.”

He huffed. “Fine. Lesson learned.”

I pulled the cover back over the keys as he placed his guitar in its case. “You should take that to the others,” I said. “I bet they’d get a kick out of trying to play.”

“What, my guitar? No, no, no. This is my baby!” I watched as he gently petted the shabby case. “If someone broke this, I’d be devastated. My dad got it for me, and it was hard earned. I try to take good care of it.”

“I’m like that with my tiaras.”

“Pffff!” Baden laughed outright at me.

“What?”

He took his time, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Tiaras!” he finally said. “You really are a princess, huh?”

“Did you think the last eighteen years were a clever trick?”

“I like that, you know? That you protect your tiaras like I do my guitar. I like that that’s your thing.”

I pushed the door open, leading us into the hallway. “Good. Because they’re beautiful.”

He smiled. “Thanks for spending some time with me.”

“Thank you. It was a pleasure.”

There was a pause. “So do we shake or hug or what?”

“You may kiss my hand,” I replied, extending an arm.

He took it. “Until next time.”

Baden kissed me quickly, bowed, and headed toward his room. I walked away thinking of how Aunt May would say she told me so as soon as I saw her again.

I knew I’d be the focal point of the Report. Typically, I didn’t mind giving speeches or updates. But tonight was going to be different. One, this would be the first time I faced the public since the parade, and two, I knew they’d want to hear about Kile.

I wore red. I felt strong in red. And I pulled my hair up, hoping I’d come across as mature.

Aunt May hovered in the background, winking at me, while Mom helped Dad with his tie. I heard one of the boys yelp and turned to see Alex holding something sharp in his hand. He was rubbing his backside like he’d sat on it. I hunted, finding Osten in a corner trying desperately not to laugh aloud.