Cameras shoot towards my face. My shock, my horror, all captured for everyone to enjoy.

I quickly rein back my expression and smile, then clap, but my insides are churning.

Sheng. In my Selection.

I glance towards the Angeles bowl. What are the chances? Did someone sabotage the bowl?

"A familiar face, perhaps?" Romilda says ominously, but she doesn't interrogate me for answers. Instead, she places the paper down and raises her arms. "And those are your thirty-five Selected, Illéa! Congratulations to all chosen, and may the best man win. You will all be contacted shortly to begin preparations.

"Your Highness." Romilda turns back to me. "Any thoughts so far?"

"Er." Not even I could hide my reaction, so everyone must know I know Sheng by now. "Well, I know the last one!"

"Sheng Mah? Yes, I have seen him around as well!"

"He takes good care of my horse, Unicorn." I clear my throat. Stop talking about him. "As for the others, we'll have to wait and see, but I look forward to meeting them all when they come to the palace for the first time."

"Which will be in two weeks' time!" Romilda is back to host, hyping the Selection for the audience, for the viewers at home. "And we'll be there to capture every detail. Thank you for tuning in, Illéa. We'll see you next week!"

I wave, smiling, cheeks ablaze with embarrassment, until the live button flashes off. Chatter explodes around me, and I drop my head, drop my smile. My hands shake.

I had a plan to use the Selection to forget Sheng ever existed. Now it will shove him back in my face.

Even worse, he and I will be expected to court one another. Like everything is normal.

Before anyone can accost me, I zip over to the Angeles bowl. What are the chances? What are the chances? I fish a name out. Not Sheng. Another. Not Sheng. I keep going for five, ten names, and all of them are not Sheng.

There was no tampering here. This was pure, sheer, foul luck.

Roy, Cami and Tay rise from their seats as I sit back down, try to cool off. I can just eliminate him from the start, right? He'll go in the first mass elimination. My chest tightens at the thought.

Yes, that's what I'll do. He'll be gone, and I'll be back to my happy Selection.

"Are you all right, Gail?" Romilda asks, and I snap my head up. Her eyes dart to the Angeles bowl. "You seem… startled, at Sheng's appearance."

"I'm just… surprised." The lie forms smoothly. "I just wanted to see if the bowl was tampered with, because what are the chances someone I know would be chosen? I've known him for a long time but we've never interacted."

"Yes, I can't imagine how you feel. But don't worry, darling. I'm sure it won't be as awkward as you think."

If only you knew, Romilda…

Roy, Cami and Tay pad over, Tay with his hand tucked in Cami's. Roy already has the chosen Selected's forms in hand, and he sifts through them with Cami peering over his shoulder.

"Mostly students, but not unexpected," he says. "An ice hockey player, a figure skater, models, even a K-Pop idol. You've drawn in a unique bunch, Gail." Of course, he lands on Sheng's form to mull. "Especially this guy. He's been working here for three years. His father has been working here even longer."

"Oh, really?" I say, pretending not to know.

"It will be nice to get to know them better," says Cami, though she frowns. "But I hope this won't strain our working relationship with the Mahs."

Roy stifles a giggle. "Maybe Sheng had a crush on you from afar."

My insides spiral all the way down into the earth and exodus in the middle of China. I just want to fling something. Anything. Myself, into the sun.

Luckily, Tay looks up from the Rubix cube and peers at the forms. "They look scary…" he says.

Cami laughs and pets his head. "I'm sure they'll be lovely, Tay."

Without waiting to hear anymore, I take the forms and head out of the studio. I probably have a million things to do now, like interviews, press, deciding napkins colours, but right now my thoughts are laser-focused on Sheng.

I reach my bedroom, where I shove the forms into my desk drawer. Then I go for my phone (one year it went off in the middle of a broadcast, and Omma banned me from keeping it on my person on the Report ever since). The first text I see is from Zelda.

0/10. Ugly. Sorry, Belcourt.

7/10. If you want smart babies, go for the lawyers.

5/10. What the hell is that outfit choice?

MODEL ALERT. HAWT. 1000000000/10.

I scroll. At the very end is, not surprisingly, her reaction to Sheng.

THE SELECTION WAS HACKED. NO WAY. NONONONONONO.

Then, CAN I FLING HIM INTO THE SUN NOW?

Then, Girl, you're doomed.

I sigh. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Zelda. I skip the rest of her messages and find Sheng's.

Just one.

There's still a chance.

I clench my phone. Not if I have anything to say about it.

I storm out of my room and towards the stables. Wordlessly, Naomi follows me once more with an odd look in her eyes, and wisely decides not to argue when I veer off-course and dismiss her at the entrance to the Mah cottage.

Sheng and Senior Mah live in a little lodge on the grounds. Being stable hands, they have to get up at some ridiculous time in the morning to sort the horses by first light, so living on-site is necessary. It's only one story, barely four rooms large, but cosy, thatched with hay and potted neatly out front with cute little geraniums. Chinese lanterns hang outside, quietly glowing to provide some warmth and light in the setting sun.

I thought Sheng would be out here, waiting for me, but Senior Mah is the only one instead, pacing.

When he sees me, his back straightens and he removes his hat. For once, he's stunned into silence.

"Y-Your Highness, I…" the rim wrinkles under his grip, "I-I had no idea… about my son…"

"It's not your fault. I'm not mad. Just… shocked, is all."

He visible exhales. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought you would be angry. Sheng is on the phone right now, discussing the next steps of the Selection with the representative…"

"I wish to speak with him to ask why he submitted his name," I say.

Total lie. I'm telling him that he doesn't have a lick of a chance. That I am eliminating him at first opportunity. Not to bother unpacking when he gets his new room in the palace.

He broke my heart. Now it's my turn to break his.

"Of course, I understand your indignation," Senior Mah says. At least my scrunched face looks like that and not a total betrayal of fate. "I just…" he glances towards the cottage door, "I would like to speak to you myself, if that would be all right with you."

"Oh, er, how can I help you?"

"You see…" He can barely look me in the eye. "I understand for you it is an emotional journey to find a partner, but Sheng… I suspect his intentions were far less genuine."

Oh, were they now? "What makes you say that?"

"It is my mother, Your Highness. She is very unwell."

Senior Senior Mah.

I already know where this is going.

"Medical bills are very expensive. I am doing everything I can, and I know Sheng is sacrificing so much of his time and energy to make sure she is well-kept at hospital. The Selected are… very well compensated."

Every inch of me feels like cotton, easily pulling apart.

"You want me to keep him in the Selection for as long as possible."

He bows and bows and bows some more. "I apologise for asking so bluntly. I know you are offended that he has offered his name. We are truly unworthy of you, Your Highness, but I know of your kindness. We would be indebted to you and your family for life."

Truly unworthy. Suddenly, I know where Sheng got his distorted outlook of life from. It lights me up like the cotton has set fire, consuming me in seconds, but I cannot let these feelings be my only bearing.

I keep him, and I kill a part of me. My integrity, my heart.

But if I let him go, I am potentially letting Mrs Mah die.

"He will be the model Selected," Senior Mah offers. "Not a foot out of line. It would be… good for him to interact with more people, too. Perhaps even make some friends." He bows once more, before looking at me, with such deep pleading, deep longing, that it reaches into my core and shakes. "Please, Your Highness. Please consider, at least."

But my mind it already made up. I couldn't possibly gamble with Mrs Mah's life.

Even at my own expense.

"It's okay," I say in a quiet voice. "I will keep him as long as I can."

Senior Mah brightens like a sun coming out from behind clouds. He comes closer, takes my hand and bows profusely.

"Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you so much!"

"You don't have to thank me, Senior Mah." I smile. "Anything for my favourite stable master."

"Oh, you are truly as kind as they say you are." He cradles my hand tightly. "Thank you, really. We are forever in your debt."

"That's not necessary," I say, and I mean it. "I'm sure Sheng will be pleased—"

"No!" He startles. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off, but… you mustn't tell him. He will not live the experience to his fullest if he knows. He will look down upon himself."

And he's right. Because Sheng is… Sheng.

So I have to keep him, and I can't even tell him why. He's going to think this is his second chance.

"All right," I concede. "It's our secret."

Before Senior Mah can reply, sounds echo from the cottage. They become Chinese, filtering through the front door before it swings open.

"Bah!" Sheng yells. "Bah—!"

He freezes when he sees me.

Colour drains from his face. For the first time since we broke up, I see the real Sheng, raw and vulnerable and soft in his unique way. His façade is torn apart, and he stares at me like he can't believe I am here.

Like he can compete for my hand. In the open.

I clutch my wobbling voice and say, "I look forward to meeting Sheng properly in a week, Senior Mah."

Then I'm scurrying away, because I can't bear to look anymore.

And I can't bear the way my heart patters.

The week goes so fast. Like, unholy fast.

I'm whisked everywhere, shaken and stirred like a martini, pinned and jabbed with sewing needles and make-up pencils as the palace's team works to prepare the Selection. I'm stolen away for interviews, photoshoots, chat shows and TV features, and before long, the tables in the dining room are moved so that the trademark U-shape fits in the centre, with thirty-five seats scattered along the prongs.

Five days before the Selected are due to arrive, I finally get a quiet moment with Zelda and her younger sister, June. They look freakily alike, despite the ten year age gap. June has Zelda's wicked green eyes and bouncy locks of chestnut hair (not dyed, of course). They have the same sour expression, though June's is full of tones of mischief, too. When I arrive at my parlour, Zelda has already spread the forms on my sofa, now looking at her phone from the sofa's armrest, and June is rolling around on the carpet.

Zelda glances up, then grins. "Oh, excellent. I was just reading about you."

"Huh?" I say, shutting the door. What have I done now? "What were you reading?"

Her grin lengthens. "Fanfiction."

Oh boy.

"I don't want to know."

"Oh, but you do. You know Levi's fans? Of LH²? They ship him with everyone. His bandmates. You. Even the Selected." She holds up her phone. "I'm reading a fic right now called – you'll never guess what." At my dead silence, her grin gets impossibly wide, and somehow even more insufferable. "The Nut and the Butt."

I choke.

"Butt!" yells June from the floor.

"Don't repeat that," Zelda chides without much admonishment, then she laughs. "You're having the wildest escapades with Levi. I mean, you also have the personality of cardboard, but they totally nailed your pink dress sense!"

I snatch her phone and toss it onto my armchair. "Hey!" Zelda snaps, but I so don't need to hear more about my steamy adventures with a K-Pop idol I've never met.

"Why are the forms on my sofa?" I ask instead.

Zelda sighs and stands, though she looks longingly at her phone. "So we can look over them. Grab the whole pencil case, June." As June runs over to my desk, Zelda cracks her knuckles. "We need to be methodical about this."

"I don't want to be metatodical," June says. She drops the pencil case over the forms and highlighters spill free. "I want to give them moustaches!"

"No moustaches." Zelda replaces the pencils and separates the highlighters by colour. June's cheeks puff but she stormily says nothing, and drops to the ground with her arms crossed.

"Why do we need to look over them?"

"Because you need to know these dudes. Like, where they come from, their provinces, probably a few facts about their likes and dislikes."

"It's not a test."

"It'll make a good impression. That's what you're supposed to be doing, right? Making the monarchy look good?"

Of course, I told Zelda about my deal with Roy; I have a Selection and promote our image. Then again, that was all just to get away from Sheng, and now he's here, stealing a space upon my sofa cushions with the thirty-four other applicants. I slide him beneath the Clermont Selected, Nathaniel Durham.

I told Zelda about the deal with Senior Mah, too, which went over like this:

"I have to keep Sheng!"

"But Sheng sucks and you need to get over him! Eliminate him immediately!"

"His grandma is dying and they need the money!"

"… Oh."

Needless to say, Zelda was not impressed.

"Fine, keep him," she'd said. "But just know… I don't like it. Not a little."

It didn't matter in the end. The plan was to use the Selection to make him jealous. I can still do that, and this time, now he has to watch.

June stands on her tiptoes to reach over the sofa. She points. "Why are you hiding Shovel Face Sheng?"

I nearly spit. "What?"

"June!" Zelda clucks, then swipes her sister's hand away. "What did we agree?"

"Sorry," she says. "Only you can call him Shovel Face Sheng."

"That's right. Only I can call him Shovel Face Sheng."

I pout. "I did date 'Shovel Face Sheng' once, you know."

"Wrong!" June yells. "Only Zelda can call him Shovel Face Sheng!"

"And you still will date Shovel Face Sheng," Zelda says with a wry smirk, "if the Selection's got anything to say about it."

I slap a palm to my face. If I have to hear Shovel Face Sheng one more time…

Zelda waves a hand. "You probably know every nook and cranny about him anyway so let's just leave him out. I'm nearly done with this first guy."

I peek over. It's Avian Homes from Fennley. A redhead grins blithely at the camera. At least he looks pleased to be here, more than I can say for some of these other portraits.

"I wanna' see!" June demands.

Zelda sighs and hoists her up onto her lap. June inspects poor Avian's face like she's hunting for even the slightest blemish. I have to wonder whether the Selected boys put on make-up for their photos.

"Why does he have carrot hair?"

"That's called a redhead, June," Zelda corrects. "Daddy is a redhead."

"Daddy is a carrot!" she bellows. "Daddy is a carrot!"

Zelda replaces June on the ground before taking back Avian's form. "I'd give him a three out of five stars."

"… For what?"

"Hotness, of course. Granted, he's probably got a hot Kiwi accent, too. Bump it up to four." She snatches up another form – Maurice Elsmore. "Now this guy isn't rugged hot, but he's like, sleek hot, you know? So I'd give him a four too. His mom's that whacky psychic, did you know?"

"I did not." I take Maurice's form to ponder. Indeed, under parentage, is his mother, Vega – also known as the psychic who correctly predicted that both my mother and Cami would win their respective Selections. I don't know if it was luck or actual psychic abilities, but her on-the-money forecasts rocketed her fame. At least, more fame.

"Talking about famous, too, this guy." Yamato Watanabe, with an awkward smile on his blemish-free face. "He's apparently a huge figure skater. Won championships and stuff."

I can't help but grin. I wonder if he likes ice hockey?

Zelda smirks. "You've really pulled all the famous guys, haven't you?"

I flick my hair. "What can I say?"

She rolls her eyes as she places Yamato down and sifts through other forms. "Who else is hot…?"

I take a seat by the edge, allowing space for June to slap the papers with her palms.

"I can't judge them all by hotness, Zel. It's about personality, too."

"Yeah, well, until we meet them, hot bods is all we have."

"Hot bods!" June yells.

"Don't repeat that, either." She takes a form before I can see who it is. "Tell me about Maximus Wellington."

I search my head. Something? Anything?

"He's… from Atlin?"

She grumbles. "And what does he do?"

"Engineering student at the University of Atlin."

"And his hotness level?"

I throw a cushion, but she deftly dodges.

After that, we let June take the first rein of impressions before Zelda helpfully inputs hers rating system ("Carpenters are usually muscular, right? Four out of five" and "Zookeepers are hot when they're not covered in animal poop, so tentative three stars"), and then she hands the forms to me. We write notes and stick the portrait to each. I start to remember finer details, like that Ansel Hewlett has intense blue eyes, and that Jeremiah Hill has younger sisters who are triplets.

As I'm reading through them, trying to place names to faces, and June colours a moustache on Sheng's portrait, Zelda suddenly asks, "What sort of things will you being doing with the boys to calm the resurgence?"

I look up. One of the things I had to sort before today was my first few events with the Selected, the very first being a short visit to the Los Angeles Cemetery, where all the victims of the rebel assault nine years ago were buried. And that's all of them: guards, maids, the Selected, rebels. Appa.

I tell this to Zelda, and her nose wrinkles.

"Wow, how attractive. A cemetery."

"I know it's not ideal, but it's for appearances."

"Do the Selected know about this?"

"Of course not, but they'll do it, because it's part of the Selection."

Zelda snorts. "You know, I'm pretty sure their idea of what they'd be doing during the Selection was dating you, not visiting graveyards. I get it." Zelda speaks before I can. "I know you have to do this for your brother, and your country, but don't forget this is still your Selection."

Is it?

They can call it my Selection, but with the number of cooks who have stuck their spoons in the soup, it might not be mine to own anymore. Heck, I only wanted a Selection out of spite, and I'm not even afforded that anymore.

I have to reclaim this and make it mine, even with ingredients that don't belong to me. Somehow.

"Well then, how about afterwards," I say, pushing the thoughts away, "I meet each of them one-on-one. It's a classic Selection feature."

"It's… not very unique or cinematic," Zelda admits. "We need to make this more exciting, more thrilling."

"Need to, or want to?"

"Oh, definitely want to," she says, without a hint of shame. "I'll be with you the whole way, and I'm not sitting around for three hours listening to thirty-five boys slobber over how gorgeous your chocolate-brown-golden-gemstone eyes are."

"Ew, slobber!" June says, as she draws glasses on Benedict Santiago of Calgary. "That's gross!"

"See? If June says it's gross, it totally is." Zelda taps her chin in thought. "How about I write you some questions to ask them? Fun question, not boring ones."

"What kind of questions?"

"Very casual. If you could have one pizza topping for the rest of your life, what would it be? What's your biggest dream? Got any weird kinks?"

"That doesn't sound too— hey!"

"What's a kink?" says June.

"Nothing," Zelda says, just as a knock raps at the door.

I sigh. This is going nowhere. Without asking for an identity, I open the door, and a huge shadow instantly engulfs me.

Captain Durante is a giant of a man. Broad-shouldered and red uniform bursting at the seams, he looks like he could pummel you with only his pinkie finger (and he probably could, but I am so not going to test that theory). Yet, it's only a pair of kind, green eyes on a warm brown face that regard me, smiling.

"Your Highness, I came to brief you about security measures, but I see you're busy. Shall I come back later?"

Before I get the chance to reply, June scrambles off Zelda's lap towards him. "Papa!" she yells. "Papa! Papa!"

He scoops her up in one movement and grins. "All right, little one." He nuzzles into her cheeks and she giggles. "Having fun?"

"Yes, Papa! Daddy is a carrot!" June chirrups. "And Zelda has kinks!"

Zelda goes so white she could do a spit take without any water.

"… i-in your hair!" she sputters, but then goes even more white when she realises Durante practically has no hair. "In this dude's hair, I mean!" She holds up Parker Zaleski's portrait. Blond curls spring down to his jaw. Lucky.

"Mmm. I hope that's what she meant, Zelda." She gets a stern narrow of his eyes, but nothing more. He says to me, "Would you prefer if I came back later?"

"No, no. We can do it now." I need a break and I haven't even started yet.

I clear space and sink into the pink sofa, and Zelda joins me, but typical to Durante, he only comes in to stay standing, bouncing June in his arms. Which is a contrast, because his face is deadly serious as he delivers the intended security measures to me.

"Each Selected with be guarded, twenty-four seven. No exceptions. You yourself will have a contingent led by Naomi Astrauskas."

So no escaping my shadows. Great.

My face must be as open as a hungry mouth, as he sighs. "It's for your protection. You know that, right?"

"I know," I say, but it comes out huffy.

"Likewise, Zelda," he faces her, "you will be escorted around as well."

"What?" she says. "But… I'm not royal."

"No, but besides the fact that you're Her Highness' closest confidant, you are also my daughter, and I am not willing to risk anything."

"How will it work at the cemetery, and other group events?" I ask, before Zelda can protest. "Will everyone have their guards?"

"We will make sure all exits are covered and the group is secured."

"And dates?"

That causes him to frown. He nods his heads towards the armchair and, after I nod back, sinks down like an exhausted man drops to sleep. June fiddles with the tassels of his epaulets.

"We… haven't quite nailed that one yet. His Majesty is insistent on a permanent guard keeping pace a few feet away."

A few feet? I know I agreed to let Roy make all of the decisions, but sheesh, am I not even going to have a lick of privacy?

Zelda has the same thought, scoffing. "Oh, so the guards are going to watch Gail pee, too? Come on, Jo. You know that's ridiculous."

"Yes, that's why I told him it was too intrusive." He regards June warmly even though he says, "This is just on palace grounds, as well. We are instating full precautions when you are outside our walls."

And I'll be outside the walls a lot, it seems.

I slouch on the sofa. It was hard enough keeping my tryst with Sheng a secret. Lucky for me, Cami is an expert free climber and spent a few years teaching me the basics, and it's come in handy getting down the palace wall to sneak to Sheng's place (go hard or go home, right?). But with so many guards, so many people watching me with hawk eyes, it'll be downright impossible to sleep in peace, let alone date any of my Selected.

"I'm wearing him down, Your Highness," Durante reassures, with a crooked smile. "But he is… unyielding. For good reason," he quickly adds.

No way, after the whole argument I had before the Selection, does Roy not know that he's suffocating me, but I agreed what I agreed, and I trust Captain Durante to get me the leeway I need to breathe.

"Okay, good, because I really don't want to be hovered over while I do stuff with my dates."

Zelda stifles a laugh, because of course, she sees the dirty in everything. Durante, luckily, ignores her to take my words at face value. "Yes, I understand how nightmarish that would be."

"Anything else?"

He untangles June's fingers and sets her down, and then stands. "That's all for now. I'll brief you each time it's necessary." To Zelda, he says, "Make sure you and June get to your tutors at two, and be back home for six, all right?"

"Sure, sure." Zelda waves her hand.

Durante rolls his lips, but says nothing else, and bows his head to me.

"Aw, don't go, Papa!" June cradles his leg as he moves for the door. "The Selected boys will slobber over Gail!"

"Then the princess will need a lot of tissues, won't she?"

June giggles so much she falls onto the ground.

He reaches down and ruffles her hair. "I have to go back to work, sweetheart. Play with Zelda." He fixes Zelda a pointed look before planting one last kiss on June's cheek and leaving, shutting the door gently behind him.

I run a hand through my hair. It looks like this Selection will be so much more work than I thought it would be.

Zelda lets out a long sigh.

"June, let's make a new rule: never say the word kink in front of Daddy or Papa ever again, okay?"

"Kink!" she yells, before going back to drawing moustaches on Sheng's face.

The last few days happen so quickly I can barely keep up.

Final decisions are made, the Selected wing is prepared for use, and I am spun into so many new outfits I might have to wear two a day to get through them all. I choose the napkin colours (pink), the tablecloth colour (pink), even the colour of the paper in which I send notes to the Selected (spoiler! It's pink). At the end of the preparation I feel like a Polaroid camera out of film: a block of uselessness that desperately needs a refill.

And it's only just begun.

The Selected are flown in from their provinces by morning's end. Already, it's September, and summer is slowly making way for autumn.

I sweep out the hem of my short, white dress with a glittery black bow. It'll probably dazzle a few people, but if they're going to date me, they need to get used to my dress sense. I'm the polar opposite of Zelda, who marches besides me in an all-black skater dress and black kitten heels to my teal wedges.

Rudy is just behind us, and Roy takes up the rear with Cami at his side, arms intertwined. No cane for him today, and with his inserts his odd gait is nearly unnoticeable, but he likes having Cami on his arm 'just in case' (read: he looks cooler with her there). Around us are the guard contingent – totally unnecessary, but according to Zelda, it makes us look scary, and she revels in that sort of attention.

When we round the corner for the Men's Parlour doors, huge mammoth birch wood that gleams with engraved golden whorls, I'm startled to see a man standing outside. Not one of the attendants.

I narrow my eyes to get a better view, and recognition flickers like a bulb. It's one of my Selected: Kingsley Obasanjo. Tall, dark-skinned, he turns and smiles with such smoothness I'm already nearly tripping over myself. His teeth are so white he makes my dress look like a grandma's beaten rug. Ex-swimmer, model, I remember from my notes, and no wonder. Every inch of him is tailored, from his clothes, to his short black hair, to his jaw – so sharp and cutting, like he was carved from gold by a Greek god.

"Your Highness, Your Majesties, Sir." He bows deeply. "Good morning to you all."

Roy fixes him a stern look. "I believe we asked the Selected to wait inside the Men's Parlour."

But if Kingsley is fazed by Roy's narrowed eyes, he doesn't show it. "I wanted to be the first to greet you all, but especially Her Highness, in person."

Zelda whistles under her breath, and the rest of the adults look to me for the next step. I nod and they part, allowing Kingsley to come forward, take my hand, and plant a gentle kiss on the top. My insides melt instantly.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you," he says in a soft voice, one that pulls me right under. "It's truly an honour. You are as beautiful in person as you are on the television."

My cheeks flush. "Oh, a-ah, you're so kind, Kingsley."

"You know my name?"

"Of course." I add, "I know all of the Selected's names."

His grin falters, just slightly, but it comes back with a vengeance, and he rises with effortless grace. "Thank you. I hope this is a start of a happy relationship between us." He offers an arm, tucked into an expensive cut suit that just radiates high self-esteem. "Shall I escort you inside?"

I take his arm. This is it.

Kingsley makes to move, but I, rooted to the spot, jerk him back.

Totally fine, I tell myself. I have already met one. Now it's just thirty-four other hot boys.

Including Sheng.

Sweat dapples my cheeks.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Kingsley asks me.

"I'm fine," I say.

Together, we head through the doors.

A/N: so it begins... I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D

Your first look at the Selected! What did you think of Captain Durante? And Kingsley? Prep yourselves for the next few chapters of introductions... I promise I have tried to make it more interesting than the tsats intros, lol. As a note before more introductions occur, the amount of words I spend on your character is not indicative of how much I like them or how likely they are to advance in the competition. Some characters come easier, some don't, and right now, I'm still trying to figure them all out and portray interactions organically.

On another note, I'm very thankful for the Pinterest invites but please don't feel obligated to add me to character boards (unless they are private)! So many tratr boards on my profile messes with my head when I'm trying to save pins to the story's board, lol. I will happily follow them all for inspiration, however, so feel free to PM me your usernames (if you have a particular outfit you think your character would wear? Aesthetic? Snippet? Pin it. I'll see it).

Not sure if I will update next Sunday, because I'm still not done with Chapter 7, and I desperately need an outline (my butt a month ago: lol i don't need an outline hashtagyolo), but I'll kick my own butt into getting one done so I can continue ASAP.

Otherwise, thank you for your lovely reviews so far and thanks for reading!

~ GWA

NTT: "Guess I'll die."