P.S. May, don’t these strawberry tarts just make you want to cry?

The Selection was no longer something that was simply happening to me, but something I was actively a part of. I was an Elite.

The Swendish queen— whose name I couldn’t pronounce to save my life.

The Angeles air was quiet, and for a while I laid still, listening to the sound of Maxon breathing.

I guessed princesses-in-training didn’t wear pants.

Need someone to talk to? I could tug my ear right now.