Summary:
5 generations later. 35 girls. One prince. A new Selection has begun.
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The castes and rebels are long gone, but there is still unrest in Illea, despite all the years that have passed. Royal families soon learned that removing the caste system worked as much as changing a person's name- they might not be called the same thing, but they were still the same person. 6's, 7's and 8's struggled to find work due to lack of previous experience- it was a poverty cycle. 2's and 3's still had the same privileges- private schools, better healthcare, better living conditions in general, etc. Castes 4 and 5 never rose or fell- they were still envying the higher castes and pitying the lowers castes. The gaps between people was getting more and more evident, nearly as bad as when the caste system was still in place. The current royal family decide to have one last attempt at bringing their kingdom together- they hold a selection for their son, Prince James Schreave.
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Epilogue:
"Fallon! It's about to start!" My mother screeched from beside me, as if I wasn't already aware of the fact. My brother and I shared a glance, dreading what her reaction would be when I wasn't announced as a selected on the report. When it finally turned eight o'clock and the national emblem rose up on the screen, she clenched my hand so hard I was afraid it might fall off due to the lack of blood circulation.
All of the royal family were seated before the camera, graceful and poised as ever. King Philip, Queen Cordelia, Prince James himself, and his two younger sisters- Marigold and Primrose. The King and Queen were beaming into the camera, even more so than they always did. The prince's expression was unreadable- his lips were pulled up into a thin smile, but his hazel eyes looked deeply troubled. Maybe he was only now realising that his belt didn't go with his shoes. The twin princess' were looking lovely as ever- their blonde waves pulled half up and half down, and their pink and purple dresses shimmering under the spotlights. Even at the young age of 10, they were managing to sit stiller than James, who looked like he wanted to make a run for it.
"Isn't he handsome!" My mother gushed. "Don't you think Fallon would look so pretty seated on a throne of her own next to him, Joseph?" She asked my brother, her eyes wide and sparkling as much as the gems littered over the Queen's gown.
I scowled deeply, my eyebrows turning down and my jaw jutting outwards. Joey sat back and laughed, his too-long hair blowing into his eyes.
"Have I ever told you how unattractive you look when you smile, Fal?"
"I think I recall a few times, with you using much stronger words than 'unattractive'."
Mom hushed us and I sat in silence whilst the introductions were made. I could almost feel the suspense and impatience hanging over the whole of Illea. The host- Ramsey Low- pulled out a notepad, and it was clear that everyone knew what was written inside.
"The time has come that we must reveal the thirty-five young ladies chosen for the Selection. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating the following Daughters of Illéa!"
Mom clapped her hands frantically, practically bouncing up and down in her seat. My stomach clenched with butterflies, and I knew that I wouldn't be able tear my eyes away from the screen if I tried.
Did a part of me desperately want to be chosen for the selection? Yes. But so did every other girl in Illea. It was all my friends had been talking about ever since we'd filled out the forms and gotten our pictures taken. It would be a relief to not have the possibility hanging over me. That was what I told myself, at least.
"Miss Helena Patel of Bonita, painter." An image of a petite Asian girl filled the screen. She had small brown eyes and a heavy blush painted onto her cheeks. Now that the castes were no more (or the labels of them, at least) the girl's occupation was listed next to her name instead of a number.
"Miss Genevieve Roland of Lakedon, model." She was a pretty blonde girl with delicate blue eyes- she looked so fragile that I was afraid if someone were to shove her that she might snap in half.
"Miss Celaena Hemmings of Kent, maid." The girl had thick black hair and brown eyes. Her face was clean enough, but I could see traces of dirt and frayed material on the clothes she was wearing. I wasn't the only one either- I could practically hear my mother wincing at her appearance.
"Miss Coraline Welsh of Waverly, dancer." This girl had the best posture and stance so far. If her occupation hadn't been announced, I would have guessed that she was a dancer. She had smooth, dark skin and her un-tame curls were somehow beautiful in their own way.
"Miss Kirby Matthews of Allens, architect." If her smile grew any bigger, I was sure that the girl's face would crack in two. I could feel my mom's grip on my hand grow tighter with every girl announced that wasn't me.
"Miss Fallon Night of Dakota, writer." I was about to make a comment on the next girl to appear on the screen like I had with every other, but then I realized it was me. All three of us did a double take, and I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating. Mom let out a piercing scream, snapping me out of my state. Joey just looked at me and grinned, and I suppose I was smiling a bit. Dear lord, you would be too if you'd been chosen out of the thousands of other girls from your province to live in the palace and compete for the prince's heart.
"Congrats, Fallon. Send me a post card while you're there."
"She's not leaving yet!" My mother cried out, gripping me and pulling me to her chest. "You looked so beautiful in your picture too! I was afraid you'd scowl and ruin it for yourself."
I frowned at her comment, making both of them laugh.
"It's true, Fal. You didn't look as weird as you normally do." Joey commented, tugging on a strand of my hair. I was vaguely aware of the phone ringing in the background, and of the TV still playing as the remainder of the girls were selected. I sat back down on the sofa, my legs wobbly. I grinned so hard that my mouth hurt.
