Submitting my form was the most wonderful feeling of freedom. As an only child with a very strict and busy father I didn't have much freedom. He treated me like a bird in a cage, he didn't pay any attention to me unless he needed me for something important. I'd been raised to be beautiful, poised and graceful. Little did anyone know I was not daddy's little girl. I loved to sing, something a 3 should never do. I secretly read psychology books when I was meant to be training to be a music producer like my Father. To know I could be out of my fathers reach, somewhere that I wasn't kept on an iron leash ... I could do so much more. I would be able to meet other girls I actually like, play sports, bake, there's an endless range of possibilities. I made it to the front of the queue a hopeful smile covering my face. I sat in a chair and they took my picture and my form in.
I walked back to my Fathers mansion. As the manager of Lane records-the producers of almost every song in the charts-he had a lot of money. I snuck through the back gate (the guards were on my side so they let me slip past) and walked up the garden, peeking through the window to make sure my dad wouldn't see me. Then I climbed the rose trellis up to my balcony. I was used to getting pricked occasionally but I'd been climbing it for years so I knew what parts were less likely to hurt me. It was hard not to snag my clothes. I pulled myself up onto the balcony and walked through the glass doors into my large room. It didn't feel like a home to me. I put on a different dress as the roses had caught my first one on the way up. I brushed through my hair to make it look smoother and I stepped downstairs and into the lounge to watch the report. As my dad wasn't home I invited the maids and the chef to come watch with me. I know they didn't get to see it much, if not at all.
"Did you enter, lady Lilah?" The head maid Lissy enquired. All eyes turned on me.
"Yes, anything to get out of here. Please don't tell father you know he wants me to stay in 'the family business'." More like he wants to keep me a prisoner. If I won I would have power over him and he doesn't want that. The interviewer started chattering in the background and we all turned to look.
"Now lets meet the real star of the show, Prince Kyron!" The prince then confidently walked over to a set of chairs. His black suit looked fit snugly, tailored to his exact body size. He had dirty blonde hair and intelligent blue eyes, with a cocky smirk. "So your highness, soon there will be 35 women in your home. How do you feel about that?"
Prince Kyron grinned even wider. "Well it's never something I've thought of as a bad thing." I rolled my eyes as the presenter laughed.
"Yes, I suppose so. So your highness, what are you looking for in a girl?"
"Well, there are a few defining qualities I'm looking for but they can be portrayed in different ways. None of the girls will be the same." They'd probably planned everything he said but I was intrigued. Did he really make that observation by himself?
"Yes, very true. Now, one final question: Do you think caste matters?"
"Well, people from different castes will have different skills which might change my view on them." His answer was short for such a question. He'd lost the smirk and a serious look had replaced it. The report ended and I decided to go to bed. My last thought before I slept was: what if I don't get picked. I realised then that wasn't an option. This was my one chance of freedom. I wasn't going to let it go that quickly.