The Queen by Kiera Cass Page A

already-addressed envelope. I rubbed my temples again, hoping the slight pressure would give me some relief, though it never did.
    “Everything all right, Amberly?” Danica asked.
    “Oh, yes,” I lied. “Probably just tired or something. I might take a little walk. Try to get my blood moving and all.”
    I smiled at Danica and Madeline and left the Women’s Room, making my way toward the bathroom. A bit of cold water on my face would ruin my makeup, but it might helpme feel better. Before I could get there, the dizzy feeling swept over me again. Perching on one of those little couches that ran along the hallways, I put my head back against the wall, trying to clear it.
    This made no sense. Everyone knew the air and water in the southern parts of Illéa were bad. Even the Twos there sometimes had health problems. But shouldn’t this—escaping into the clean air, good food, and impeccable care of the palace—be helping that?
    I was going to miss every opportunity to make an impression on Prince Clarkson if this kept up. What if I didn’t make it to the croquet game this afternoon? I could feel my dreams slipping through my fingers. I might as well embrace defeat now. It would hurt less later.
    “What are you doing?”
    I jerked away from the wall to see Prince Clarkson looking down at me.
    “Nothing, Your Highness.”
    “Are you unwell?”
    “No, of course not,” I insisted, pushing myself to my feet. But that was a mistake. My legs buckled, and I fell to the floor.
    “Miss?” he asked, coming to my side.
    “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is humiliating.”
    He swept me up in his arms. “Close your eyes if you’re dizzy. We’re going to the hospital wing.”
    What a funny story this would be for my children: the king once carried me across the palace as if I weighed nothing atall. I liked it here, in his arms. I’d always wondered what they’d feel like.
    “Oh, my goodness,” someone cried. I opened my eyes to see a nurse.
    “I think she’s faint or something,” Clarkson said. “She doesn’t seem injured.”
    “Set her here, please, Your Highness.”
    Prince Clarkson placed me on one of the beds dotting the wing, carefully sliding his arms away. I hoped he could see the gratefulness in my eyes.
    I assumed he would leave immediately, but he stood by as the nurse checked my pulse. “Have you eaten today, dear? Had plenty to drink?”
    “We just finished breakfast,” he answered for me.
    “Do you feel sick at all?”
    “No. Well, yes. What I mean is, this is really nothing.” I hoped if I made this seem inconsequential, I could still make it to the croquet game later.
    She made a face both stern and sweet. “I beg to differ; you had to be carried in here.”
    “This happens all the time,” I blurted in frustration.
    “How do you mean?” the nurse pressed.
    I hadn’t meant to confess that. I sighed, trying to think of how to explain. Now the prince would see how my life in Honduragua had damaged me.
    “I get headaches a lot. And sometimes they make me dizzy.” I swallowed, worried what the prince would think. “At home I go to bed hours before my siblings, and that helpsme get through the workday. It’s been harder to rest here.”
    “Mmm hmm. Anything besides the headaches and tiredness?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    Clarkson shifted next to me. I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart pounding.
    “How long have you had this problem?”
    I shrugged. “A few years, maybe more. It’s kind of normal now.”
    The nurse looked concerned. “Is there any history of this in your family?”
    I paused before answering. “Not exactly. But my sister gets nosebleeds sometimes.”
    “Do you just have a sickly family?” Clarkson asked, a hint of disgust in his voice.
    “No,” I replied, both wanting to defend myself and embarrassed to explain. “I live in Honduragua.”
    He raised his eyebrows in understanding. “Ah.”
    It was no secret how polluted the south was. The air was bad. The water