The Selection Stories: The Queen & the Favorite by Cass Kiera

Author:Cass, Kiera [Cass, Kiera]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Young Adult, Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780062351227
Amazon: 0062351222
Goodreads: 22917641
Publisher: Harper Teen
Published: 2015-03-03T08:00:00+00:00

EXCERPT FROM THE SIREN

She will risk everything for love.

Read on for a sneak peek at this

sweeping fantasy romance from Kiera Cass!

ONE

IT’S FUNNY WHAT YOU HOLD on to, the things you remember when everything ends. I can still picture the paneling on the walls of our stateroom and recall precisely how plush the carpet was. I remember the saltwater smell, permeating the air and sticking to my skin, and the sound of my brothers’ laughter in the other room, like the storm was an exciting adventure instead of a nightmare.

More than any sense of fear or worry, there was an air of irritation hanging in the room. The storm was throwing off our evening’s plans; there would be no dancing on the upper deck tonight. These were the woes that plagued my life, so insignificant they’re almost shameful to own up to. But that was my once upon a time, back when my reality felt like a story for how good it was.

“If this rocking doesn’t stop soon, I won’t have time to fix my hair before dinner,” Mama complained. I peeked at her from where I was lying on the floor, trying desperately not to throw up. Mama looked as glamorous as a movie star, and her finger waves seemed perfect to me. But she was never satisfied. “You ought to get up,” she continued, glancing down at me. “What if the help comes in?”

I hobbled over to one of the chaise lounges, doing—as always—what I was told, though I didn’t think this position was necessarily any more ladylike. Our journey up until that final day was utterly ordinary, just a family trip from point A to point B. I can’t remember now where we were heading. What I do recall is that we were, as per usual, traveling in style. We were one of the few lucky families who had survived the Crash with our wealth intact—and Mama liked to make sure people knew it. So we were situated in a beautiful suite with decent-sized windows and personal stewards at our beck and call. I was entertaining the idea of ringing for one and asking for a bucket.

It was then, in that bleary haze of sickness, that I heard something. It sounded like a far-off lullaby that made me curious and, somehow, thirsty. I lifted my head and saw Mama’s head turn as well, searching for the sound. The music was intoxicatingly beautiful, like a hymn to the devout.

Papa leaned into the room. “Is that the band?” he asked. His tone was calm, but the desperation in his eyes was haunting.

“Maybe. It sounds like it’s coming from outside, doesn’t it?” Mama was suddenly breathless and eager. “Let’s go see.” She hopped up and grabbed her sweater. I was shocked. She hated being in the rain.

“But Mama, your makeup. You just said—”

“Oh, that,” she said, brushing me off and shrugging her arms into an ivory cardigan. “We’ll only be gone a moment. I’ll have time to fix it when we get back.

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