Page 1 of Devotion

1

It’son the 163rd day of my selection period that I’m woken up early with the rest of the candidates to get dressed and ready for presentation.

A new palace administrator will be choosing his partner today.

The selection group always consists of thirty, evenly split between men and women. As soon as one is chosen as a partner or one’s six-month candidacy runs out, the empty spot is immediately filled by someone else.

I have only four weeks remaining of my candidacy, so I’m more anxious than excited as I bathe quickly and begin working on my hair.

If I don’t get chosen before the month is over, I’ll be sent home as a failure. I’ll be forced to live a life I’ve never wanted.

In the months I’ve been a candidate, only seven administrators have chosen partners. Two women and one man preferred to partner with men, so for those selections I wasn’t even a viable option. The other three male administrators chose women, but they selected the small, delicate, fluttery types whoare currently in vogue in the palace. I’m not that, and despite genuine effort, I can’t even fake it effectively.

Last month there was a new female administrator who talked to me for a few minutes and appeared interested. I entertained a brief hope she would choose me, but she went with Kyra with her vibrant red hair and sultry manner instead.

Sultry is another thing I’m not and can’t fake.

So I’m still here, the longest holdout of the current selection group.

I have more reason than anyone else to be in a flurry right now as we fight for mirror space in the large room where we eat, sleep, dress, and spend most of our time.

This might be my last chance.

I’ve rubbed almond-scented oil into my long brown hair and am in the middle of pinning it into a simple, elegant bun at the back of my head when Poppy comes over with her dress hanging open in the back.

“Hey, Jess,” she says with a nervous smile. She’s only been here two months. She was painfully shy for the first couple of weeks and is still reluctant to talk to anyone but me. “When you’re done with your hair, do you mind getting these buttons?”

“Sure.” I slide in the last pin and study my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are the same nut-brown color as my hair. My skin is fair and my cheeks perpetually rosy. My neck and shoulders look almost graceful with my hair pulled up this way. With a little makeup, I’ll be as pretty as I’m capable of being.

I wouldn’t have been approved as a selection candidate if I weren’t attractive and articulate and well-mannered and reasonably intelligent. It’s probably bad luck more than my inherent qualities that have kept me from being selected as a partner yet.

“You look beautiful,” Poppy says. “I bet you’ll be picked today.”

I smile, shaking my head as I turn toward her. “You have as much chance as I have. And it might be someone who prefers men, in which case neither of us will have a chance.”

“Maeve said it’s a man who likes women today.”

“Oh really?” My heartbeat speeds up as I work on the row of tiny buttons on the back of Poppy’s dress. The buttonholes are small and the fabric is slippery, so it’s not an easy endeavor. My dress fastens in the front, so I’ll manage it myself. “That’s promising. She’s always up on the gossip.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I finish the buttons and smooth down the back of her dress. “There. You’re gorgeous, as always. I wish I could wear a dress like that.”

During my initial consultation with Barrett, the Director of Palace Selection, he told me in no uncertain terms that I need to dress with a starkly simple elegance to counteract my figure, my heart-shaped face, and my dimples. With the pronounced curves of my tits and ass, he said in his bland, matter-of-fact way, I would look cheap and blowsy if I wore overtly sexy dresses and unbound hair.

Those were his words.Cheapandblowsy.

Unlike a lot of the other candidates, my family is labor class instead of desk or leisure class, so maybe that somehow leaks into my appearance. Poppy thinks Barrett’s critique was ridiculous and he was simply being an ass, but I do wonder if he was right.

Barrett is in his mid-sixties, which means he was alive for twenty years before the Fall. Everyone I’ve ever known who witnessed the old world changing to the new one possesses the wisdom of hard experience and a certain kind of exhausted cynicism. He has no reason to lie to me or be mean for the sake of meanness. Maybe there is something about me that has the potential to lookcheap.

Maybe it will always drag me down.

“Everything all right?” Poppy asks, watching me in the mirror.

“Yes.” I smile at her again. My smile is my best feature. Warm and open and contagious. Everyone says so.

“Then you better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

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