A/N: This is the edited version of the original story. Though the content has remained the same, I have increased the chapter length. Therefore, this chapter, short as it may be, contains Chapters one through seven of the original fic. I apologize to the few followers who are getting multiple notifications about new chapters, but this fic was in desperate need of editing. The first chapter was horribly written and quite boring.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights, nor will I ever. The only things of my creation are any characters/places associated with Kaliké. All other rights belong to Kiera Cass.

Tuesday, March 10th

Oliver's POV

When Canada joined the United States to become Illea, Kalike was naturally left out. Canada was previously a democracy, and that was what we believed in, but the new ways of Illea were interesting, and very tempting. My some-odd great grandfather (who had been prime minister) was elevated to royalty, and from then on, Kalike was practically identical to Illea.

The most unfortunate part, in my opinion, was the fact that we followed the Illean Selection customs. In a mere three days, I would turn nineteen, and my girlfriends would be announced.

Kalike is separated into nineteen different provinces, and therefore nineteen "Daughters of Kalike" are chosen. I know for a fact that in Illea, they didn't really draw names. They just chose the talented, pretty girls. Here in Kalike, we at least had the decency to make the draw somewhat fair.

My parents drew two girls from each province, then decided on the better one to put in the Selection, and that was that.

As I wallowed in my miserable thoughts, in stepped my butler, James.

James was a handsome man of about thirty. He'd been my butler since I was about seven. Since then, the black-haired, brown-eyed man had fallen in love with one of the maids, though I couldn't remember her name. That disturbed me. I ought to know these things!

"There's a letter here for you, and you're also to attend a meeting in twenty minutes," James said, handing me the letter.

"Thanks. I wonder how long Mother will ramble on for today."

James quickly hid his smile and busied himself cleaning random tables and knickknacks around my room, even though everything was spotless.

I sat down on my bed, stroking the letter thoughtfully. "How's your family, James?"

James looked up quickly, shock evident on his face. I felt slightly embarrassed, both at the fact that I had never cared enough to ask, and at the fact that I was kind of prying.

"They're good," James said quickly, recovering. "My wife, Laura, is actually a maid here, and I have a three year-old daughter, Chantel, who spends her time making everyone's life difficult…"

I laughed a little, picturing the image. "Does your daughter look like you?"

James shrugged. "She has my eyes, and a couple of my features, but looks more like my wife. Terribly sorry, Highness, but I must be going. Don't forget to attend your meeting!"

I nodded, and James exited, shutting the door tightly behind him.

I looked down at the letter, slightly confused as to who would have written me. Perhaps my aunt Valentina? The only other relative would be my father's cousin, Fredrick.

Frowning, I turned the letter over, and my eyes widened as I saw the Illean seal. A little while ago, I had written to King Maxon, asking him for help, and advice. My father was fairly distant, so I turned to the only other person that I knew had gone through a Selection.

Greedily, I unfolded the letter, and heaved a sigh of relief when I read that Maxon was planning on visiting briefly with his fiancee, America.

Saturday, March 14th

As we sat in the filming room, preparing for the Kalike Weekly News, my mother sent me an encouraging smile. "The girls are lovely, Oliver," she said.

I leaned over to try and catch the real expression in her grey eyes, but she turned away so that her brown hair covered her face. Sighing, I turned my attention to my siblings, hoping to distract myself.

Unfortunately, they had chosen this moment to be quite calm and quiet, which was unusual. My red-headed younger brother, Jack, was staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was no doubt thinking about his own Selection, which was only a year away.

I turned towards my fifteen year-old sister, who was displaying incredibly calm demeanour. Usually, Nicola was quite loud and rebellious, but instead, she simply sat, staring ahead. I assumed that she was trying not to look too excited.

The truth was, that as royals, we weren't exposed to people our age very much, and when we were, we had to be all proper. I think Nicola was excited at the prospect of so many girls coming because she finally had the chance to actually make a real friend.

Nicola then leaned down to fix her shoe in an ungraceful manner, and our attention focused on her. My mother was pretty much glaring daggers at her.

Though Nicola's hair had looked completely appropriate just a moment ago, her wild brown curls now flew in every direction, as she straightened herself. Nicola was quick to return my mother's glare, knowing that she was going to be scolded.

"Nicola," my mother said quietly. "Please refrain from doing such bizarre and unladylike movements when in the presence of others."

Nicola rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother," she said, her voice falsely sweet.

The doors to the filming room opened, and my father walked in, his hair only slightly tamed. Luckily for him, he had a crown to hide the mass of red hair that stuck up. Behind my father was the man who ran all the interviews-Christian Boyce.

Christian Boyce was a very nice, middle-aged man, who had a very odd sense of fashion. He repeatedly dyed his hair, and cut it in different styles. Today, he was sporting a short ponytail, and his whole hair was blue.

I was quite fond of Christian because he was comfortable with us, and didn't follow the strange etiquette my parents lived by. As Christian looked at me, a smirk came over his features.

He had surely noticed my nervousness.

Not a moment later, Christian spoke. "It's okay, Oliver. We love your beautiful, curly brown hair and your RO-mantic grey eyes," he squeaked in a high pitched voice.

Jack started chuckling, and my father stared at all of us scornfully.

Before my father could begin to reprimand any of us, a camerawoman came up to us and set us in our positions. We still had a couple minutes before the show started, but no one wanted us to be running around frantically. I swear that my mother asked a maid to come touch up her makeup about three times.

I tried taking breaths to calm myself, but I found out that it didn't appeal to anyone else.

"Stop it, Oliver," my mother hissed.

"You'll look bad on camera," my father added.

I nearly groaned, but manage to stop myself in time.

America's POV

Recently, Maxon and I had been incredibly busy preparing to go off to visit Prince Oliver. It was quite difficult to just leave the kingdom behind, but I was confident that everything would be fine. Kriss, Elise, and Marlee would have it all under control. Besides, Maxon truly did deserve a break.

Even so, Maxon insisted on doing extra paperwork just so that he would not be overwhelmed when we came back. He had our trip planned down to the minute; how many days, nights, what time we would leave, where and when we would stop. I tried to help, but he wouldn't allow it. Instead, he shooed me off with my maids to get fitted for new dresses.

Of course, the maids also had my outfit very thoroughly planned, so I was of no use to anybody. I sat on my bed as Mary flipped through different sketches, muttering to herself. Most of the sketches were discarded, and only the best were presented to me.

"Mary, calm down," I said finally, watching her pace anxiously. "You can pick my clothes from my closet; you do not need to make new ones," I insisted, much to Mary's displeasure. She went on pacing and muttering anyway.

After a couple minutes of boredom, I heard the television go on in the other room, and I got off the bed to go investigate.

"What are you watching?" I asked Maxon curiously, approaching him and sitting down beside him on the couch.

"Oliver's Selection. They're about to announce the girls right now," he said, focused on the screen.

I rolled my eyes at his intense demeanour and looked at the screen as well, but had to stop myself from laughing.

"You looked exactly like him," I giggled, still watching the screen, and Maxon frowned.

"What do you mean? We look nothing alike."

"You both looked terrified…" I trailed off. "Upon first seeing you, I pitied the woman that would marry you," I laughed some more, and Maxon looked amused.

"How ironic," he said, smiling.

At that moment, Mary appeared at the door, more sketches in hand.

"There is so much to do, Miss," she said, exasperated. "So many dresses to decide on."

"Mary, you know that I have zero experience in fashion. I would only slow you down. I trust you enough to choose a dress on your own."

Huffing, she left the room, and Maxon and I turned our eyes back to the screen, having missed the introduction.

I continued to giggle, more sympathetically, as Oliver went up to talk to the man about the Selection. "Definitely looks like you," I said to Maxon, and he rolled his eyes.

"How are you feeling about this Selection, Oliver?" the man asked, sounding suspiciously like Gavril Fadaye.

"I have to admit that I am a little nervous, but I am also quite confident that the Selection will go smoothly."

At this, I laughed. "Look Maxon, he's even more confident than you were." Maxon glared and gently shoved me.

This resulted in both of us pushing each other until I fell off the couch in a fit of giggles.

"America," Maxon chuckled, "Be quiet. They're about to start."

Hand on my sore stomach, I sat back on the couch as the King and Queen were finishing their advice. It was not exactly what I would have advised; as it involved fitting in and being suited for the royal life.

"The King and Queen are weird," I commented eyeing them, and Maxon groaned.

"Be quiet," he said.

The camera now pointed at a screen, swirling different colours with the word "Selection" written in big script. The picture changed to that of a girl with long brown hair and crooked teeth.

"Wyatt Mowry, of Fayfox, Five," the announcer said.

After Wyatt came Elvira Tatem, Danielle Ballatori, Maryn Maclaurin, and Princess Daphne of France.

Upon hearing Daphne's name my jaw fell open. If I had been drinking water, I would have spit it out. Maxon looked equally surprised, but quickly shrugged it off.

The screen darkened and they went into commercial.

"He has some pretty girls so far," I commented, knowing that their beauty was the least important thing. I could bet that Elvira Tatem, beautiful and rich as she was, was going to be trouble.

"Indeed," Maxon commented, not really paying attention.

Sighing, I settled back into the couch cushions.

"Which one do you think will get the furthest?" I asked Maxon, and he thought for a while.

"Daphne," he said finally. "She'll do anything. I think that Wyatt girl will be kicked out first," he said. "She doesn't seem...right."

"You mean she isn't educated or pretty enough," I corrected, reading his thoughts, and he flushed. "I think that Elvira girl will get the furthest," I announced. "She seems like Celeste, and if she is anything like her, she will go far."

"Mhmm…" Maxon said, once again zoned out. I rolled my eyes and patiently waited for the commercial to end.

Oliver's POV

All too soon there were shouts for everyone to return to their seats and I noticed that our commercial break was ending. In a flurry of activity, people were desperately trying to return to their seats, bumping into others in the process.

However, when the cameras started rolling, Christian was ready, eagerly greeting the audience. I barely listened to his small speech, instead trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

So far, I couldn't say I was upset. There was a decent batch of girls, so I shouldn't be worried about the ones coming up, yet I was.

"Jamie Knott of Oswall, Three."

I began to relax a little upon seeing the friendly face as Christian continued on.

"Alexa Fredrickson of Bluemill, Two. Skyler Howley of Normount, Seven."

At this announcement, I had to be extra careful not to show the shock I was feeling. A Seven was never included in the Selection! She was not the prettiest girl in the world, to put it nicely, and I only hoped that she was intelligent. With the school systems that the Sevens had, there was not much chance, but without some wits about her, she would never make it far.

"Roanna Banks of New Nova Scotia, Four. Sage Hollings of Kiera, Four. Seher Asad Ahmed of Prywynne, Two. Zoya Farooqui of Wyvernedge, Two."

Twins?! I could not even decipher how it would be possible; usually siblings lived in the same province, therefore only one of them could represent, yet my parents had found a way to involve sisters from two completely different sides of the country. They were set to make my Selection difficult.

"Sanjana Rai Thalwar of Summerlea, Five."

Sanjana had the familiar face of someone I couldn't quite place...however I had never met someone named Sanjana, nor a Five from Summerlea. It must just be my imagination.

"Wren Dobens of New Prince Edward Island, Six."

With that, we were onto the next commercial break and I got up from my seat, stretching.

"Well, Oliver?" Mother interrupted my thoughts, and I raised an eyebrow in her direction, which she did not appreciate. "Don't you like them?" she said sharply, and I nodded absently, causing her to huff in annoyance.

"Noella, give the boy a bit of time. It's the future Queen he's thinking about," Father grinned, touching my mother delicately on the arm. "There are some very suitable girls in that batch, Oliver," Father told me wisely, clearly trying to influence my decision.

As the pair of them walked away, my mother turned back. "Remember dear, there are some very high-caste young ladies. Think of how much they could benefit our country!"

I sighed in relief as my parents finally disappeared and Christian gave me an encouraging smile from his seat. I allowed myself a small smile and mentally prepared myself for the last girls to come.

To my greatest relief, the last five girls were all beautiful and seemed to be friendly and smart. All wonderful candidates for Queen as well as someone I would be able to get along with. The real question was, which one to pick?

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review.