BAILEE'S POV
"No! Why should I enter the Selection? Mom, I'm a rebel!" I blurted out, frustrated with pressure my mother was putting me in. She only rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Bailee, think! If you got Selected you could seek information for the Northerners!" she explained, obviously annoyed with my attitude.
"But I won't even stand a chance, mom. My looks are nothing more than average and I'm a REBEL, pretending to live a simple life as a six under the Illean laws," I huffed. Did she not understand? There are thousands of girls living in Angeles and they are not rebels, who will definitely enter. These idiots. Do the citizens even like the caste system? How does Illea cope with being governed by these tyrants? And the Selection? Who came up with such a lame idea?! I thought to myself, my head exploding with annoyance.
"This was X-Ray's idea in the first place. I knew you would object, but I didn't think you would put up such a fight," my mom sighed, but just by mentioning X-Ray, my superior, made me widen my eyes. His idea?
My mom smirked, knowing it would make me change my mind. This was different - my whole life had been devoted to impress and satisfy my superiors and help overthrow Illea's monarchy, after Great uncle August was executed by those tyrants.
I took a deep breath and calmed my mind. It was just entering, right?
"...Okay. If it's really X-Ray's idea. I'll enter the Selection. BUT there's no guarantee I'll get Selected," I eyed my mom, assuring her. She nodded and grinned at me.
This is for the Northern Rebels.
. . .
I waited by the creek, my legs dangling off the edges of the bank.
I heard the rustling of the leaves and snapped my head toward the sound, aware of who it was. A grin immediately formed on my face as I watched Caspian pop out of the bushes, stumbling. I chuckled before I reached out to brush off leaves off his soft, beige hair. Just when I was about to take my hand away, he grabbed it and looked into my eyes with passion.
"I heard you agreed to enter the Selection," he whispered, a cute pout on his face.
"Even if I do enter, I won't win. There's plenty of beautiful girls out there, waiting to be chosen," I replied, rolling my eyes. He didn't look convinced.
"For example, you?" he raised an eyebrow. I shook my head - I wasn't outstangingly pretty or anything.
He locked his eyes with me.
"You're not beautiful? Are you offending me of having bad taste?" he accused, teasingly.
"Haha, maybe?" I shot back, trying to control my laughter.
"Unless the Prince is an idiot, he'll definitely choose you," he ran his hand through my hair.
"Caspian!" a distant feminine voice, probably Caspian's mother, yelled. Caspian looked toward where the voice was coming from and sighed.
"I'll... see you around," he sighed and pressed his lips to my head before sprinting off.
Left alone, I let myself feel the lingering of his lips on my head.
I sighed as I walked towards the opposite direction, into the midst of the woods. Nature had always been my way to relieve stress. And now, I was stressed about the Selection. A part of me hated the thought of just entering, and another part of me wanted me to get in - to actually be of help to the Northerners.
Since I was young, I've been always ackwnoledged as a skilled fighter, so I've always been on the attacking team. Always the person who killed others. I hated it.
The other Northerners kill for fun. I only kill for defense and loyalty... but the same guilt will stay with me forever. The guilt that I'll carry with me for my entire life.
The breeze tickled my face as I continued walking. I stare at the sky as I close my eyes to just pause time for a moment.
I hear a distant shuffle, I immediately snap my eyes open, meeting them with a pair of golden ones. Something vague in my memory flashed golden eyes.
Standing before me was a polished young man in his early twenties. His eyes were cold and his face was expressionless. I averted my eyes, blushing. Did he see me day dream like an idiot?
He stared at me and I stared back.
"Uh, hi?" I unsuccessfully try to make my voice as confident and collected as possible. But I was a rebel, and I wasn't afraid of a man with a piercingly cold expression... right?
He stared at me for a split second, his expression not changing.
"A Six?" The moment the words leave his mouth, my jaw tightens. Of course he'd look down on me - he was probably a Two, his expensive-looking suit was clean, without a spot, and his dark hair was combed over.
He reached his hand over to touch my head, and I reluctantly inched away. Who did he think he was?
"The wind has messed up your hair," he sighed. His expression is still the same - emotionless and innocent. I scowl at him and he looks at me.
"Goodbye!" I stormed off, my face red with embarrassment.
I truly hope that I'll never see that bastard ever again.
LANDON'S POV
I shuffle through my desk, trying desperately to find my papers. I found them - shredded and disposed into my garbage can.
I leaned back onto the chair and sighed. Franches and Liam were out to get me again. I don't blame them though, jealousy can ruin you. Especially if you're jealous of a Prince.
I don't care about reporting them, though. They're not even worth it - plus, I could whip up another one within two hours.
I thought about all the people who had me on their black list.
I remembered a new addition - that girl with the bright green eyes I met last week. I was glad she didn't recognize me as the Prince.
I didn't mean to offend her. Sometimes I say things without knowing. Father's always told me that I was too quiet, too 'hard to approach.'
She was interesting, I must say. Her eyes were fiery and full of life, unlike my own. It's a shame she's as Six. She'd make a great Three or maybe even a Two.
I sigh as I unfasten my tie. Since young, I've been great at almost everything, and with my status, all the school boys and girls were afraid of me. By the time I was in junior high, kids started calling me the "Sadistic Prince." I didn't care, really. After finishing grade 9, the teachers determined that I was too smart for high school, so Father started training me himself.
Illea knew me as an heir who would rule wonderfully with my high IQ, but Father has always deemed me too unsociable. This led to him taking me out to every social gathering available. Most of the time I just stood there while girls tried to throw themselves at me.
Relationships just weren't my thing.
Speaking of relationships, my Selection is coming up in the next two months.
Another thing to sigh at. I guess I'll enjoy my sweet time single while I can.
Knock knock knock
"Your Highness, dinner has been served in the third Dining Hall," my personal butler, Timothy, bowed low.
"You do know you can call me Landon, right?" I rolled my eyes as I grinned. Tim was like another father to me. He returned the smile as I grabbed my suit coat.
I exited my room and stepped into the finely polished hallway. The smell of perfume lingered - my mother's perfume.
As I descended the spiral staircase, I immediately heard a loud crash, followed by my mother's bickering.
"Good heavens, what a fright! Apologize at once!" my mother fumed. The poor maid stumbled as she managed an apology.
"S-sorry, my Queen, my a-apologies," she stuttered. My mother was truly a self-centred, dramatic woman.
As I entered the room, all heads faced me.
"If it was just an accident, just let it go, Mom," I said. My mother, seeing me, brightened immediately and forgot about the poor maid, whom blushed when I met her eyes, and hurriedly scurried away.
"Ah darling, you're here," she placed to kisses on each side of my cheek. I managed a smile and sat down across from my father. He greeted me with a kind gesture and warm eyes. The butler brought in the baked salmon, imported all the way from Whites, and I was bombarded with my mother's Selection-related concerns once again.
"Darling, have you chosen them yet?" she asked.
"No."
My mother clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"You'd better get those done by tomorrow evening or I'll choose them myself!" my mother exclaimed in a stern voice. I sighed once again.
"Now now, he needs some time to think about it, dear. He is choosing candidates for being his future wife," my father chimes in, trying to settle the tense atmosphere.
I rest my head on arm as I pick at the salmon.
"Can I eat in my room?" I ask quietly. "So I can look at the forms at the same time," I added after seeing my mother's pointed look.
"That's bad for your digestive system!" my mother exclaims dramatically. I try to hold in yet another sigh.
"Yes you may, son," my father gives me a quick wink and I grin. My mother gives him a dirty look and I chuckle before I resided back to my room.
Once I sit down in front of my extremely messy desk, I pull out each and every single one of the folders - one for each province. I'll start from the north, Whites, and then work my way down.
I pulled out all the profiles of the girls. I mainly looked at each girl's 'personality' column, I didn't care much about their looks. The personality column was required to be written by a close friend, so that the candidate doesn't rig it. I uninterestedly look at all the girl's profiles in Whites, until I settled to a nice Four. I didn't want this to take up my whole evening, so I half-heartedly stamped a "Selected" logo onto her profile.
I yawned as I flipped open the folder for Baffin, then Yukon, then slowly, I got to Angeles - our province. I moped around, flipping through the profiles without much enthusiasm or attention. I see some Twos, Fives and Sixes and with the reminder of 'Six,' I think of the girl from last week.
Yes, she'll do.
I rummage through the papers, making my already unpleasant-looking desk even messier. Where was she?
I search through the stack of papers, until I finally found her familiar green eyes. I immediately saw that the smile didn't reach her eyes. I wondered why, too. All the other girls smiled cheerfully and 'seductively,' yet hers was just a slight grin with a few dimples. But even so, the smile was pretty.
It was unusual for someone to catch my attention, but I was curious about her. She lives as a Six, acts like she's at least a Four and most of all... she doesn't seem happy about the Selection.
Without a moment's hesitation, I stamp her profile. It may seem selfish that I know she doesn't want to be a part of it - but if I see her really against it, I'll just let her go.
I just wanted to know what it's like to know someone with such a vivid personality, so unlike mine.
BAILEE'S POV
All the Northern Rebels gathered into our already squished house, all ready for the Report. I told them that they're just going to waste their time and watch some other girl in Angeles get picked.
The Report flashed onto the TV and Pierre Whiteman's voice thundered as he announced this Friday's Report.
Nothing above mattered. What mattered was what I heard after:
"Bailee Holland of Angeles, Six," my face paled as the whole house erupted, cheering and clapping. Even X-Ray smiled, and wrinkles appeared over his cheeks. A mixture of feelings fluttered in my stomach.
I wasn't Selected to compete for the Prince, but Selected to seek information. I was proud, but...
But... what about Caspian?
After everyone left, I locked myself in my room and sulked a bit. Should I go? Should I stay for Caspian? My mother knocked on my door before allowing herself in. I looked up at her and then averted my eyes back down.
"It's going to be hard, isn't it?" she asked, gently. I hesitated before I nodded. Then, I let myself cry in her arms for a while.
"You know, your great aunt was Selected before. But she declined the offer," my mother sighed. This caught my attention abruptly.
"Great aunt Georgia? Why?" I asked in a small voice. My mother hesitated before she started speaking, choosing her words carefully.
"She had a situation similar to yours. You know Grandpa August? They were head over heels for each other," my mother explained, as I widened my eyes.
"Bailee, remember how I promised that I would always support your decisions, no matter how crazy they seem?" I looked at my mother. That promise she made when I decided to follow father's path to become a rebel. My met her eyes.
"Bailee, if you don't want to go, I won't force you. I want you to be happy, but you must make the decision whether or not Caspian is the right person for you," she spoke slowly, her blue-grey eyes showed some sympathy for me.
She left after giving me a weak smile.
I got up moments later, heading to Caspian's place, not knowing what do say to him.
When I reached family's his restaurant, I saw him in his waiter uniform and a frown on his face, clearing and wiping the tables.
SMASH! The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the whole building. Caspian never dropped anything. He was never clumsy. He must really be upset. I winced as his mother scolded him fiercely, but Caspian didn't seem to mind. His mind was on something else, and that probably linked to what I was stuck into. I snuck up behind him.
"... Caspian?" I asked a tiny voice. He turned around with a smile plastered on his face. It was fake - a forced smile.
"Oh, Bailee! I heard you got Selected! Congratulations, you know, you-"
"Stop, Caspian. I know you're upset. You can stop pretending now," I mumbled, touching his arm. He snapped his mouth shut and sighed. Moments later he gave me his real smile, something so special and fragile.
"Let's talk on the roof," he tilted his chin toward the ceiling.
Caspian was a rebel whose family was a Four, and they owned a restaurant with a beautiful roof in which we could sit there for hours, just gazing out to the night sky. As we sat down on the red shingles, Caspian held out a hand to me. I took it, and the warm touch stayed in my heart.
"Don't go, Bailee," he whispered in my ear, close to kissing me. I closed my eyes.
"Mother said I could decline," I sighed. The night sky was blotted out with beautiful, white stars and the city lights blended with the deep, navy blue. Caspian let go of me.
"Maybe I'm being selfish," he pouted, bringing back the cute face. I poked his cheeks and hugged him tightly.
"I don't know what to think, but the Selection is definitely not worth losing you," I waved at him before a left him there, alone with his eyes trailing behind me.
. . .
That night I couldn't sleep at all. Frustrated up until morning, I tried to clear my mind by attending another meeting to plan another rebel attack on the Palace. Towards the end of the meeting, I was about to leave but stopped by X-Ray.
"Bailee, you should really go - be a Selected and make the Holland family proud. You'll benefit us and... you'll do your father proud," he hit me right at the target. X-Ray left after saying those words, knowing he'd finished his job. My father. He died in an attack, shot by a guard twice. Of course he would've insisted on me going, too. I always took pride in myself for who my father was. He was an important person and I personally think he'd be recognized in an Illean history textbook if his identity was exposed one day. He had led the Northern Rebels group. He was my idle.
My father wanted this. My mother wanted this, X-ray, the whole team needed me to go. And I'm just selfishly staying here for one person? I'm going. I'm so sorry, Caspian. Please, please forgive me.
. . .
Caspian didn't see me off, even though he knew. I didn't blame him, but I was hurt slightly. Maybe if I never met him, things would have been better.
I was dressed in a plain hunter green top, black shorts and my provincial flower, the purple tulip, which also represents royalty. I had an elegant limousine pick me up and send me to the Palace. I was the first Selected there, and it couldn't have been any more awkward. The Palace, being there many times, was decorated to welcome the Selected ladies and strips of banners, all different colors that represented the provinces of Illea, were hung up. Angeles's provincial color, purple, was hung up in the middle. Bailee, you got this. You're here for the information. Okay, you need a plan. I walked around clueless, coming up with a plan - unaware of where I was going until I crashed.
"Oof! Oh! I'm so sorry!" I squealed - I bumped into the girl.
"Its okay! I'm sorry too," she brushed it off, laughing. She had beautiful, long locks of black hair and had a warm smile. Her hazel eyes twinkled.
"Are you one of the Selected girls?" I asked like an idiot. Shoot, I should have watched TV more carefully.
"Yes! I'm Aibree Chan, and you're Bailee, right? I remembered your picture on TV - you're so pretty!" she piped cheerfully. I was glad to have met someone as friendly as her in the few minutes I've been on the Palace grounds.
"Haha, thank you," I smiled shyly.
"I suppose you are some of the Selected ladies," a feminine voice with a tinge of an accent I couldn't make out startled us.
A woman whom I've never seen before hurried us in for our makeovers. I rolled my eyes, but braced myself before I could sneer at this waste of time. I was taken to number seven and was greeted by a snippy woman.
"Hello, dear. I'm the Martha," she sighed. Her accent on the Martha made me almost laugh out loud. The Palace was even more of a ridculous place than I'd thought.
"Silver... peach... blush..." she muttered under her breath as she did my makeup. She tried to put on hair extensions, nail polish and lipstick, but I refused arrogantly. I ended up with light silver eye shadow, a thin layer of blush and a tinge of mascara. I never really liked makeup and I thought I'd look fine without it. Plain, but fine.
I found my room on the fifth floor by myself, since I've been here many times. I opened the cream colored doors and three young ladies approached me with curtsies.
"Lady Bailee, we're Autumn, Caty and Ally," the girls chorused. Looking a bit wide-eyed, I covered it with a smile.
"Bailee is just fine," I said warmly. They looked at each other and giggled.
After a brief introduction, I opened the balcony doors and the sun shown in. The breeze of fresh air enlightened my mood immediately.
"B-Bailee, would you care to try on this gown for your meeting with the Prince tonight?" Bailee squeaked, a bit nervous, holding up something that made my jaw drop.
She held up a beautiful, draping, strapless grey gown with silver studs near the waist and bust line. I've seen the Queen wear beautiful gowns on TV before, but I've seen nothing close enough for me to touch, nevertheless wear.
"Of course," I whispered in awe. I took the gown into the bathroom to change - it fit me perfectly. I came out hesitantly, a bit shy. My maids gave each other a look of approval before they started getting me prepared.
. . .
I ended up with a loose braided up-do, strands of hair falling out, some blush and very tiny bit of the same silver eyeshadow. Being the last one arriving, the other Selected girls gave me cold stares as I lined up behind the last girl. She flipped her strawberry blond hair and rolled her brown eyes at me. Sassy much?
We all turned to the sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase.
As soon as everyone's eyes landed on the Prince, they started swooning and gasping. That 'everyone' included me. I gasped, because I knew him. He was the guy I'd met just last week - that quiet guy with the cold eyes. How did I not see the resemblence.
He looked over each of our faces and when he reached me he simply looked past, as if he didn't remember me.
I truly hope he doesn't.
"...Welcome to the Palace. I'm Prince Landon. I'll be starting off with the first Selected on the left hand side," phew, I thought. I was the first on the right side. The girl in front of me sighed.
Got to do this right, or the information will be lost, I thought to myself.
After a long while, it was my turn.
"Lady... Bailee?" Landon aka the cold hearted but extremely handsome freak called out. I walked towards him, trembling just slightly.
He held out his hand, and I hesitantly took it. His hands were freezing cold.
He closed the door and sat on he fancy chair across from me. We were silent, letting the already awkward atmosphere become even more weird.
"You lost your flower," his statement was blunt, his voice collected. He held up a purple tulip. I immediately looked at my chest, it wasn't there. I probably lost it while bumping into Aibree. He held it out to me and I took it, bowing my head a little in thanks. I stayed quiet.
"Sorry about the other day," he sighed. I instantly paled and looked away. So he did remember. Well, this'll make things much more complicated.
"S-sorry," I mumbled. He peered into my eyes.
"Are you... afraid of me? I'm sorry," his voice was calm as always. He seemed sincere.
I bit my lip and let out a laugh. I shook my head.
"You're... weird but I guess you're okay," I laughed. He stared at me for a split second before he cracked a lopsided smile - something's so sincere and... beautiful. I blushed.
"I'll see you around," he looked at his watch and smiled at me a little before he got up and left the room. What a direct, honest and quiet person.
I hurried to the Dining Room, my purple tulip in my hand. I avoided the stares as I found an empty seat by whom I recognized as Tabi Olsen of Sota, Four. She gave me a slight smile before she carried on her soup. It wasn't long before I realized Landon had already eliminated seventeen girls already.
. . .
That night a maid knocked on my door, carrying a silver tray with a letter on it. I took it from her after thanking her.
To: Bailee Holland
From: Caspian Togan
Caspian. My heart tightened just to the thought of his name. I slowly opened the letter up, revealing a short letter.
Dear Bailee,
Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? I wouldn't be as confused as now if you had told me. Bailee, you don't have to do this. I'm missing you already. I thought you'd choose me. Don't forget me. Please don't consider the Prince. We're rebels for a reason.
Please come back soon,
Caspian
We're rebels for a reason. That last sentence made me snap back to reality. Forgive me, Caspian. I'm sorry. This is for the team-if you only you could understand what position I'm in. We're rebels for a reason, so I needed a plan. A plan to seek information and plot rebel attacks against the Palace.
We're ready to make this a better place.