Let me just start by saying this: I never thought Eadlyn Schreave was a bad person—just kind of dumb.

Maybe my opinion would've been different if Eadlyn's actions hadn't directly lead my family to the throne of Illéa. But this might require some context. Allow me to introduce myself: Prince Jackson Caspiad, heir to the throne, a One.

But now, back to Eadlyn. Many years ago—enough that it's all been written in history books already—Eadlyn Schreave was our country's young queen. She was beautiful, if cold, and not always well received by her people. Early in her reign, Queen Eadlyn made two very important decisions: first, she married a man who was not a member of her Selection; and second, she gave the people voting rights.

My father, King Florian—don't ask, it's a family name—says that Eadlyn trusted the people too much. History says that she was trying to quell any rebellion. I think she was just sort of dumb. But regardless of Eadlyn's motivations, they backfired. She inadvertently poured accelerant on the embers of revolution.

These rebels were unlike those that came before. They supported no ruler—much to Marid Illéa's chagrin, history says—but instead their own self interests. They were people who were tired of discrimination, regardless of their caste or background. They were people who would no longer be ignored.

They were magic folk, long forced into secrecy. Their denial of their magical roots led to hiding in plain sight, marrying into regular families, taking positions of importance. By the time they took control of Illéa, they were the majority. The outlook on magic has changed. Now, your abilities are what make you powerful.

But there's a complication that comes with the incorporation of magic into our society. Dad says this was why my great-great grandfather, King Lear, reinstated the castes. "Order is how we protect ourselves," King Lear had told the world. And whether it was true or not, everyone believed him.

With the addition of magic also came further stipulations on the castes. Only castes 1 through 4 were permitted to have a formal magical education. Their schooling aligned closely with their desired trade or occupation, and regardless of their home province, they were permitted to attend magical schools throughout Illéa. Their wands were of the best quality and materials, and the magical world was their oyster.

It was different for the lower castes. Castes 5 and 6 were allowed to practice magic, and if they could afford to send their children to a tutor in their own province, that was also allowed. But they were not granted access to formal wands, although some made their own crude versions. Castes 7 and 8 were barred from practicing magic. The reasoning was that the jobs of these castes did not require magic and that those who were poor might be more willing to find an easy route to improve their circumstances—even with dark magic.

Being Ones, my sisters, brother, and I received the best magical educations in the country. Whenever I was young, my mom had always said it was important for us to be the most powerful not only in name but in talent. Her duty as a mother was paramount, even above her obligations as a queen.

Until I was about ten, I always wanted to be a tutor. Minnie and Voris—those were our tutors—had always kept me hanging on every word, and it amazed me how they knew everything. I wanted to help others master their crafts the way that Minnie and Voris helped me.

But one of the first lessons that I learned early in life—probably even earlier than Eadlyn Schreave—was that things don't always work out as you plan.

I was born third in line to the throne. A respectable place that I had little complaint with. I wasn't babied as much as my younger sister, Aylee, but I didn't have the responsibilities as my older siblings, Ezra and Florence, who were about eight and seven years my senior. I flew mostly under the radar as a kid.

Until one day I woke up and was suddenly the heir.

We don't talk about it much, especially Mom and Dad. Sometimes, I doubt whether even I was told the whole story. Minnie was the one who broke the news to me. I remember it distinctly, even though I was only eight at the time: "Hail, Prince Jackson," Minnie had said, and I was pretty sure she'd been about to cry, "Our future king."

All we were told was there was an accident. There were no details, but it sounded terrible. Florence—who'd been the best older sister, always sweet, laughing, slipping Aylee and me treats when Mom and Dad weren't looking—was dead. And Ezra, my older brother, my best friend, my hero… He was gone too.

It's hard to adjust to a different course of life when you've always pictured something so different for yourself. I thought I'd be traveling the world, teaching magic to the greatest witches and wizards of our day. Instead, my life would be dictated by protocol, obligations, and public opinion. My cage was one of marble, gold, pomp and circumstance—but a cage nonetheless.

I mostly got over the disappointment in my angst-y teenage years. Some days it still bothers me. My cousin, Harrod, plans on being a tutor, which doesn't help. But certain things are expected of me.

Being on time, for instance. Listen, I'd said I'd gotten used to it, not that I'd gotten better.

"Slow down, Your Highness!" Minnie admonished in a horrified stage whisper as I rushed past her.

"Sorry, Min!" I laughed, "Running late!"

She probably rolled her eyes—Minnie does that a lot, particularly where I'm involved—but I raced towards the studio. I was only five minutes later for the Report. Five minutes shouldn't have been a big deal, but when the whole country was watching, Mom would probably treat it like the end of the world.

The cameras were still powered down when I arrived, admittedly a little disheveled. Mom gave a wave of her cedar wand, her face stern, and I felt my tie tighten around my neck and invisible hands smooth my hair. "Sorry, I'm late," I tried to laugh as the hands buttoned my suit jacket. I swatted at them and pulled my own wand from my pocket threateningly.

"Jackson," Mom sighed, "You know what a big day this is."

I hopped into my chair between her and my younger sister. Aylee ignored us all, instead focused on the book on her lap. "I'm ready," I promised as I gave a nod to host, Abasi.

"You remember what to say?" my father asked. In line with his silly name, my father seemed incapable of looking unhappy. Political cartoons occasionally mocked this fact, even though he was very well liked by the people, even if the policies that he continued to enforce were occasionally criticized as outdated.

I nodded. "Yep."

Dad nodded at Abasi, who waved his aspen wand at the camera. The stage spotlights focused on us as a red light began to blink on the camera, a sign that we were being broadcast to the country.

"Welcome Illéa to this evening's Report!" greeted Abasi in his deep voice. He was an intimidating figure: tall and solid with a baritone voice and dark skin. But he made the most animated faces, was quite friendly when you got to know him, and I'd always thought that his overly fancy, silvery wand was sort of funny as well. "We have a very exciting edition for you tonight! But first, as a follow up from last week's show, we wanted to check in with Queen Olympia about the educational reforms…"

Aylee and I sat with fake smiles plastered on our faces for most of the show. It was usually boring for us, unless our parents gave us a topic or two to talk about. Being the heir, I usually got more air time than Aylee, but she didn't mind much. She didn't particularly like public speaking, something that people always used to contrast her to Florence, who was always at ease in front of cameras.

But the news that I got to share tonight was some of the most exciting and completely terrifying. As a prince, it was the most important thing that I would do until I became king. When my father gave me a "you're on" nod, I sat up a little straighter in my seat and smiled towards the camera.

"Good evening," I greeted them. My voice cracked, and I blushed. Aylee snorted beside me. "As some of you might be aware, my nineteenth birthday is shortly approaching," I said. I twirled my wand nervously in my left hand. "And in accordance with our sacred Illéan tradition, my parents and I are happy to announce that my Selection to find your next Queen will soon commence."

I paused. The modification to the Selection that Dad and his advisers had gone back and forth over for weeks made my hands sweat. It was unorthodox, but more than that, I didn't know how I felt about it. "And for the first time ever, we would like to extend the invitation to persons of any caste, magical or otherwise." What would it be like if my wife wasn't a witch? It was an idea more foreign than being king had been at eight years old. I rarely met people who couldn't perform magic.

"Forms will be sent to all eligible young ladies," I continued while the audience buzzed over this latest development, "and due within a week. In two weeks at my birthday celebration, you will join us as we announce the revered Daughters of Illéa that will comprise my Selected. Thank you."

We hadn't discussed closings, so I awkwardly smiled at the crown for a minute until my father and Abasi hopped in to cut off any awkward pauses. I didn't remember too much of my brother, Ezra, but I was sure that he'd been a natural in situations like this. A part of me wished he was there to offer some guidance, even while another part of me told myself that I was being stupid, since Ezra would be the heir if he were here.

My internal dialogue carried me through the closings, and before I knew it, Abasi swished his wand and the camera died. "Well done, Your Majesty!" he complimented me excitedly. It was the second Selection that Abasi would have the honor of acting as Master of Ceremonies throughout—my parent's being his first. He looked excited. I wished I could've felt the same, but mostly, I just felt a little nauseous. It was happening.

"You did wonderful," Mom assured me comfortingly as she squeezed my arm. I tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace.

My father laughed. "Get ready, Jack. Thirty-five girls is certainly an adventure."

Mom elbowed Dad. "Don't you mean the greatest experience of your life?"

Aylee pretended to gag, and I laughed. Hopefully I knew what I was in for. I was just hoping I didn't screw up as badly as Eadlyn Schreave.

Hi, everyone, and thank you so much for reading! This is my first SYOC, so I'm very excited about it and also open to constructive criticisms, if you ever care to share any! Also, thank you to my great editor, L.C. Carraway. You should check out her SYOC because it's amazing.

If you're at all interested in entering, for the moment I will take 15 girls (this could changed based on interest). The form is on my profile, and please submit through P.M. only. :)