It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single lady who has instated a Selection must be in want of a rink.

No, wait. Boyfriend. Yes. That's right.

But somehow I'm struggling to see how anyone in my group could be my future boyfriend. Especially Yamato and Elliot, who stand at other ends of the line as I lead them towards the rink. They have no idea where I'm taking them.

"The presentation is in a few hours," I pronounce over the sounds of our footsteps, hitting wood and carpet and ornate rugs that hug the hallway walls. I spin to face them and walk backwards as I speak. "We have this morning to hash out the last details."

"We're nearly there with it," Yamato says, in a rare moment of genuine positivity. "We just need to get the timing right." It's a miracle he and Elliot haven't clawed at one another yet. Somehow our last meeting went off rather seamlessly.

"Yes, there's that. But!" I halt, the boys halt. "If there's anything Cami and co. will pick out, it's that we're not very cohesive as a group. So I think we should stop practicing the presentation for a moment and connect better as friends."

"Connect?" Avian echoes.

"Yep!"

I push open the rink doors and dramatically sweep the view with my arms. "We're going onto the ice!"

Mixed reactions abound. Avian's eyebrows jump as he takes in the scene. Elliot oohs and grins excitedly. Soren has the face of Soren, but he doesn't hesitate as he saunters inside, and as the others follow timidly behind, I watch Yamato stay at the threshold.

"No."

"No?" I repeat, turning to him, as the rest of the group go to put on protective gear. "What do you mean by that?"

"I respect you, Your Highness, but… but I refuse to play ice hockey."

"See, that's the genius of my team-building skills," I say, wagging my finger. "Because we're not just playing ice hockey. We're also all going to learn some ice skating things. Like the triple ultra spin me right round— erm, what did you call it?"

"Triple axel?"

"Yes, that. You'll teach us, won't you?"

He stiffens. "Why?"

"Why not? I think it's best if we all learn and appreciate a little bit about each other." My hands clap excitedly. "And you're really good on the ice!"

His expression troupes through a litany of emotions before settling on that vague, but somewhat unsure, look of wariness. "I don't think certain members of this group will agree to do that."

"Other certain members of this group are also princesses who are very stubborn. Now come on."

He grimaces as he slowly ties the shin pads and arm guards to his body, a stark contract to Elliot, who could probably wear the gear as a permanent second skin. Soren, too, knows what to put where – sometimes I forget he played hockey on his university's team – but I have to help Avian with his gear. I make sure to point out the small camera crew in the corner of the room, who agreed, at my request, to film some pieces of our meeting today for Report footage. They won't get sound, so we're free to talk as much as we like, but everything we do is captured and immortalised forever.

Nothing like a bit of pressure to reduce everyone's tensions.

Before long we're on the ice. At least everyone knows how to skate.

"Okay!" I raise the hockey stick and come to stop at the goal. "Let's play some basic penalties! You all have to work together to score, okay?"

Just then, Yamato yelps – his foot goes way up and he hits the ice. Hard. Through the helmet his cheeks erupt. I skate over and wordlessly offer to help him up, but he waves me away.

"Hockey skates," he mutters. "No toe picks."

Elliot looks like he's going to laugh, but one glare of my very pretty narrowed eyes makes him not say anything. I get Soren to be the defence, forcing Elliot, Yamato and Avian to work together to get the puck in.

"Go!" I call.

Elliot is so good he crosses half the rink in record time. I'm reminded of my date with him, steamrolling towards me with blood in his eyes – and it's no different here. He zips forwards, entirely bypassing Soren, and shoots. I whack the stick down and the puck rebounds harmlessly away.

"Elliot, that's not the point of this!"

"I thought the point was to play?"

"It is, but I wanted you to use Yamato and Avian too!"

His mouth rolls but as we reset, he kindly passes the puck to Avian.

"Hahah!" Avian cheers. "I have the puck!"

Soren reaches forwards, steals it, and then spirals back.

"… I have lost the puck!"

"Nooooo!" I call. Why are they so dense? "You're supposed to pass it to get through Soren."

"Oh." Avian lowers his stance. "All right. I'm ready."

Elliot passes him the puck. Avian takes it, skating slowly – agonisingly slowly – towards Soren. Soren, blissfully without me having to tell him, goes a little slower to intercept. Avian hits it away in time, and the puck lands in Yamato's toe.

"Score!" yells Elliot.

Yamato winces, but he skates forwards, carefully, slowly, deliberately. Soren doesn't even try to intervene, and I bang the stick against the ice as a way to motivate him.

Yamato stops about two paces away. "Okay. Here goes." He rears the stick back like a golf club and smacks – the puck sails far left and batters against the wall.

"Erm, you know there's a rule saying you can't lift the stick above waist height, right?"

"… Is there?"

"It was a good try," says Soren.

Yamato reaches through his helmet to massage his forehead. "Right."

We play a few more rounds. No scores are made – with Elliot at the back of the rink and Soren preventing most of the better attempts, there's no way anything was going into the goal. But I see Avian take it more seriously, I see Yamato sweat. I see them putting in the effort. It warms my heart.

The next time, Elliot actually passes it to Yamato. Yamato has to reach to get the puck, but it sinks into his toe. Juggling it around to keep it in his possession, he picks up speed and slides passed Soren to make a shot – below the waist.

But I'm not going to let it in for the sake of it. I pivot my left foot, and it knocks against my skate.

"Hey, not bad!"

Yamato shrugs.

"Well?" Elliot says as we gather for a quick break around the low wall. "What did you think?"

I'm surprised he seems so open to talking about it, but I know he's making an effort to put the past behind him, to give Yamato a chance. I appreciate him more for that.

Yamato chugs down a water bottle so fast I think he'll drink the bottle, too.

"Why does it matter?"

"Did you enjoy playing?"

"Not particularly."

"That's okay, we're not asking you too," I cut in quickly, in case Yamato's bluntness sets off some alarm bells. "But do you appreciate how hard it is to play?"

He goes quiet for a moment as we all stare at him expectantly. He sighs.

"Yes. Fine. I concede."

"And do you think it requires skill?"

"Yes."

Pride surges through me. I did it!

"But now." He removes his helmet, shakes the sweaty locks of his black hair free. "Now we try figure skating."

Elliot tries to disguise the look of shock on his face and fails massively. "Wait, what?"

"Yep!" I chirrup. "Out of your gear, all of you! I've got us all figure skates!"

They're different from hockey skates. Longer, sleeker, and of course there are toe picks. Yamato slides into his old ones like hugging a best friend, whereas Elliot yanks his on like how someone might tussle with a drunk stranger outside a nightclub at 3am.

"These feel weird," he confesses.

I shoo him onto the ice. Immediately he stumbles, catching himself on the wall and hauling himself up. I have to say, I saw his muscles through his shirt as he did that, and oh heck, if I couldn't bring my team together at least I got to see that.

"Figure skates," he mumbles, rubbing his hair.

I understand. I've worn figure skates a few times in my life – mostly when I was just starting on the ice, but compared to hockey skates they're more delicate, more flexible. It's like my feet are used to stone, but instead meet silver.

Yamato lines us up.

"Her Highness wants us to do the triple axel, but that's a little advanced and I don't want anyone in bandages, so… how about some bunny hops?"

"Bunny hops?" Elliot exclaims. "You're not serious."

"I don't joke about figure skating," he warns. "It's a simple manoeuvre. All you're doing is skating forwards in a line, jumping up on your right foot and lifting your knees. Watch." He demonstrates, hopping along a line, making it look like he could do it with his eyes closed, asleep, backwards. "You try."

I go first, if only to show some solidarity that I'm open-minded enough. It's quite nerve-wracking. In ice hockey you start firmly planted to the ice, not launching into the air terrified you'll land wrong and twist an ankle.

When I reach the other side of the rink, I ask, "Did I do it?"

He grimaces, though desperately tries to hide it. "Well, you were twitching your knees. Not really lifting them."

"It looked like you were trying to squat!" calls Avian. Which is probably the kinder version of what everyone else is thinking. Yamato stifles a smile – it seems to be a rare commodity, his amusement.

"You try then!" I challenge Avian.

Avian proceeds to show me up for a whole minute. It's not perfect, but he does at least get his legs off the ground.

"That was good," says Yamato. Awkwardly he pats Avian on the shoulder. "You could be a figure skater with practice."

"Hah! Hear that?" He sashays dramatically back in a circle. "I could be the next Yamato!"

"Let's not push it," Yamato says darkly. "Soren?"

Soren winces, but he gives it ago. On the third hop he falls to the ground, hands splayed on the ice as he breaks his fall. Then something shocking happens. He laughs.

"I tried."

"You nearly had it," Yamato encourages. I physically see his shoulders loosen, and more pride wells in my heart. "Just, er, don't fall next time."

Soren shrugs, but he's being a good sport about it. He gives it another go and successfully manages to make it to the other side without slipping.

"Good." Yamato gives him a single nod. "So… Elliot?"

Elliot's lips are a flat line, but he takes off, leaping into the air with gusto. I clap him on, thrilled to see he's giving it his all. I actually think he overdoes it – something I never thought I'd say about Elliot and figure skating.

"Well?" he asks when he gets to our side. It sounds somewhat accusatory.

"Not bad," Yamato says. "You went all out for it."

"Yeah. I guess." He rubs his arms.

In the pause, Yamato skates forwards.

"I want to show you all something."

He takes off then, making a gracious arc of the half-rink and then launching into the air. My jaw drops – it's the same move as before, the one I saw in his routine. He spirals – once? Twice? – before the ice churns beneath his skates, and his legs and arms extend to balance him. Before he missed the landing, but here, he nailed it, and elegantly comes to halt before us.

"That was a double axel," he says, panting.

I clap him. "Wow! That was amazing!"

"Double," Avian repeats. "Not triple?"

"I… It's not a good idea I try that one." He glances down at his feet. "I haven't entirely recovered from my last injury."

"Wait. You're injured?" I say. "I… had no idea."

He shrugs, as if skating on a bad foot is no big deal, then humbly nods my way, but his eyes are on Elliot. "Do you think you could do that?"

Elliot has the sense to look chastened. "No."

"Not without practice," Yamato notes. "Which is what I've been doing my whole life." His gaze hardens as it drifts to the rink. "I still… I still get it wrong sometimes."

"What's your point?" Elliot mumbles.

"Ice skating isn't easy, is it? Not everyone can just do it."

"No," Elliot agrees. "I guess not."

I think that's as close to an apology as we're going to get.

"I still prefer ice hockey," Elliot says.

"Okay. That's not the point I was trying to make." Yamato's open expression closes like a door. "It's not a pansy sport, is it?"

"And ice hockey isn't brutish?"

"I never said that."

Elliot blinks, too surprised to do anything for a moment. Then he says, "Er, yes. You did. I never said anything about ice skating."

"Oh, okay. Of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you've been talking smack about me every single time I'm around."

"I've been doing that because you've been doing that!"

I look helplessly at Avian and Soren, but neither of them seem to understand it. My face heats as I remember the cameras rolling around the side of the room, capturing our emotions, the shock on my face, the anger on Elliot and Yamato's.

"Get a clue, Yamato! Not everything's about you and skating!"

"I don't care about that! Only that I'm earnt some respect!"

"You'll get respect when you give it!"

"I should say the same to you!"

"Enough!" I yell so hard it reverberates through my shoes. Yamato and Elliot cut immediately. "This is ridiculous! Do you know how hard I've been trying to get you two to quit this stupid, petty argument? You're supposed to be professionals! Civil! Maybe I tried too hard to get you to like ice hockey but at least I was open-minded. This— this is just childish!"

Elliot opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand. "No. I don't want to hear another word. I don't care who started this stupid fight. I'll finish it." I stomp my heel. "We're doing this presentation in a few hours, and if neither of you get your act together, you are both eliminated!"

Blood drains from Elliot's face. Yamato goes rigid still, unable to hide the skyrocket of his eyebrows. To make my point, I skate forwards, off the rink, and start sharply yanking my boots off. Neither Elliot nor Yamato, nor even Avian or Soren, approach me to talk, and thank goodness, as anger roils in my chest, too incensed for me to make words. I flounce out of the rink.

I meant what I said. If they don't put their differences aside, they're both gone. And I am going to follow through.

We'll just have to see how the presentations pan out.


Cami has made the politics presentations a grand event, having cleared space in the studio for our canvases and presentation projections. The whole room is a buzz of activity as runners zip through the mass of people with clipboards and coffee cups, and make-up artists that touch upon our faces for the fourth, fifth time. The presentations won't be filmed live, but they will be cut and chopped for more footage to show to on the Report.

I don't need to mention how important this is for the Selected. After the disaster of the rink team-building, I hope they'll be able to pull it all together here.

Four chairs are lined on the stage, backs facing the camera. Cami, Rudy, JJ and Lilly are already seated, talking and signing animatedly between them. Rudy mutters something into Cami's ear and she laughs, and JJ and Lilly sign, pointing at the Selected as they flit passed with notecards and props in hand.

I approach them, taking a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

"Am I ready?" Cami says with a laugh. "I should be asking you that."

I wince, which is all the answer needed.

She smiles. "I'm sure you'll be fine. How is everyone faring in, erm," she glances down at her itinerary sheet, "Team Yamato, feat. Avian?"

"Oh. Well. It's… something."

Cami frowns. "Gail…"

"I did try to help Elliot and Yamato get along, I swear, but sometimes I just don't think people want to be helped."

"At least," says Rudy, "this may make your decision easier."

We'll see.

Over in the far corner, Team Yamato, feat. Avian, minus me, are huddled together and rehearsing the last finer details of the presentation. I haven't talked to them since I left the rink in such a flurry this morning, and nerves clamber down my back as I move towards them. They immediately sit up, their eyes training on me.

Yamato stands. Everyone follows. "Hello, Your Highness," he says unevenly. "We, erm. We wanted to apologise."

I shake my head. "I don't want to hear that now. We have a presentation to do. So you can save your apologies until afterwards."

"That's just it. I… we recognise there may not be an afterwards for some of us…" His voice trails as he glances at Elliot, who swallows loudly. "I just think it would be better to apologise to you now."

"I agree," says Elliot.

My lips purse. "We only have a few minutes before the cameras roll. Are you sure you want to spend those last few moments gushing to me?"

"Maybe not gushing, but… yes."

I look him and Elliot in the eye. They're both sincere about their intentions, and it's kind that they decided to speak about it now, instead of sweeping it under a rug for later.

"Okay." I plonk myself down next to them. "I'm listening."

"I'm sorry," Elliot bursts out, turning to face me and bowing his head. "You were right. It was… silly."

Yamato nods. "I'm sorry as well. I guess…" he frowns, looking at Elliot again, "I guess we both realised it wasn't really worth it."

"No," Elliot agrees. "I don't like his sport, he doesn't like mine. Let's leave it at that."

"I'm sorry too, for what it's worth," says Avian, "er, even though I'm not that involved. Though I probably didn't help egging it on, and I probably misremembered some details…"

Soren nods once in solidarity. "I apologise."

"This is very mature of you all." I don't know what they hashed out in my absence, or how, but at least for now, it seems the air is cleared. I stand. "Let's do the presentation."

"Are…" Elliot stands, wincing. "Are we still up for elimination?"

I'm not prepared to answer that question right now, because even though they both apologised, they still got to the point of argument in the first place. So I shrug. "I don't know how I feel yet." And leave them to mull on the thought as I take my reserved spot at the front of the bleachers.

The rest of the Selected file in behind. Sheng catches my eye as he ascends the tiers; it's a mixed expression, shaken like a cocktail, but one of utter determination nonetheless. Count on it, Gail. His words from the chocolate festival wrap around my shoulders, and I straighten my back. He was a group leader. Let's see how he fared.

Cami stands after everyone is seated. The red lights blink. We're rolling.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you're prepared as you can be for our presentations on multiple political topics today." She gestures to the judges. "With me is your Selection co-ordinator Rudy, your history teacher JJ, and my good friend and politics enthusiast Lilly Carter. JJ will be translating for Lilly as we go, so please pay it no mind.

"Some of you have already asked, so I'm going to reiterate that we're not going to have a firm judging criteria." She smooths her dark green dress, out of habit, or nerves, I don't know. "But we've all agreed that we're looking for is solid points, an attractive and appropriate presentation appearance, and good cohesion between the teams."

Good cohesion. Oh heck.

"Your presentations should last around five minutes, and Rudy will make a signal once you've surpassed that. We've also one last thing to add. After each presentation, we will be asking questions pertaining to your topic and to your group."

My back goes rigid cold. We didn't prepare for that. At. All.

A smug expression rises on her face. "Again, this is another lesson to be learnt for you all in this line of work – sometimes things will happen that are unexpected. You must be prepared to adapt as necessary. How you answer our questions will affect our grading of your presentation. All clear?"

Nods bob. Oh gosh. We barely have a presentation in hand. How are we going to survive an outright interrogation?

"Good." Cami sits. "Then we would like to start with Sir Bahe's team. Ahem, Team We Are So Cool?"

Kajika, Zelda, Ansel, Levi and Valerian strut to centre stage. They're all wearing business wear, Kajika cutting a sharp figure in a tailored black suit and tie. Even Zelda is wearing a pencil skirt – her, a pencil skirt!

Cami gives them a few moments to organise themselves, and Kajika whispers in hushed tones. I'm surprised at the ease at which Kajika commands. It's neither with great presence nor extremely timid, but a good balance of both. He tells Valerian to move to the side, and Valerian moves. He reminds Ansel to speak up, and Ansel lifts his chin. Such small things that demonstrates a lot.

"For the record," Kajika begins, "Zelda chose the team name."

Zelda gives the camera a thumbs-up. Rudy facepalms.

"Welcome to our presentation." He introduces the line as if we don't know who they are already, but it's a good, easy start. "Today we will be discussing the political, social and cultural repercussions of the transition to constitutional monarchy."

Off they shoot. As Kajika passes discussion to vibrant Zelda, and vibrant Zelda to beaming Levi, and beaming Levi to articulate Ansel, and articulate Ansel to calming Valerian, my butt melts into the seat with despair. Their presentation is so good. Like, they made a deal with the devil to make it this good good. Their points are beautifully succinct and clear, and they cover mishaps and mistakes well, if there are any at all. Kajika and Zelda and Ansel stumble some lines, but Levi and Valerian carry with their grace and poise and charm. At most they make glances at their notecards and nothing more.

The presentation ends just as Rudy raises his hand to signal time.

"Well, that was spectacular," Cami says, after a small round of applause. "A wonderfully airtight presentation. You should be proud of your team, Sir Bahe."

He nods once and a smile ekes from his serious, neutral lips. "Thank you. I am. We've worked incredibly hard."

"Indeed," Rudy says. He sits up. "I'd wished you'd touched more upon the cultural aspects of the transition. Would you be able to explain in more detail what a meme is?"

Zelda bursts out laughing, but reins it in so quickly she chokes.

"It's an Internet in-joke," Levi says quickly but ever so enthusiastically. "Sometimes it comes in the forms of captioned images, other times just a string of text or a phrase that is popularised by media. They're usually funny."

"I see," Rudy says. "What sort of these memes occurred when we transitioned to constitutional monarchy? Can you give an example?"

So he's testing their research. Clever. Luckily Ansel steps in, incredibly deadpan as he says, "There was that image of the king making a surprised face with text that said 'your face when you realise you lose all your power to democracy'."

"I… fail to see how that is amusing."

"Okay, boomer," says Zelda.

"It's funnier in context," Ansel says, passing Zelda an unimpressed glare.

Rudy frowns. He scribbles notes.

Lilly raises her hand and signs. JJ repeats it. "Do you have any argument as to why an absolute monarchy may have been more beneficial than a constitutional one at the time of the transition?"

At that, they pause, glancing at one another.

"There was political turmoil," Kajika begins. "I think the benefits of constitutional monarchy definitely outweighed the risks."

"But," Valerian cuts in smoothly before JJ can intervene, "there is, perhaps, argument that the transition period was incredibly rocky and risky for the economy and morale of the nation. Keeping it absolute would have, at least, assuaged levels of risk and contained all governmental activity to the palace, instead of spreading it between here and the Ivory House."

JJ signs to Lilly, and she nods, satisfied.

"A smart answer," says JJ, nodding at Valerian, who lifts his chin in pride.

"I think that will do," Cami says. "Thank you gentlemen and Zelda. You may return to your seats."

It will be hard for anyone to follow. My heart is in my throat. Are we next?

"Sir Elsmore and team. You next, please." Cami glances at the sheet as they take their places. "Ahem. Super Squad."

I'm right when I say it's hard to follow. Maurice, Nicholas, Silas and Max cluster on the stage. Down one man due to Jasper's impromptu elimination a few days ago, Silas and Max look like they haven't gone to the bathroom in weeks. Nicholas just looks sad, dejected, whereas Maurice is holding up his smile by strings.

"Hi there. Today we're going to talk about," he glances down at his notes, "the political movements of the Southern Rebels in history and today."

So their speech begins. Because that what it is. A speech. Maurice reads straight off his cards, as does Nicholas, who takes his time – too much time. Max makes an effort to look up and powers awkwardly through his part of the discussion, and Silas forgets his words halfway through and stumbles to finish as the presentation runs over by a minute.

Rudy raises his hand and says, "Did you prepare this all last night?"

Maurice's easy grin flops.

Nicholas immediately puts in, "Max and I had to write Maurice's part for him because he didn't turn up to any of our sessions prepared."

Max winces, but it must be true as he doesn't argue.

"Hey, come on," Maurice says, shooting him a glare, "I said I was busy doing JJ's essay."

"We all got the same essay, Maurice," says Nicholas, rubbing his temple. "We were all waiting for you to turn up, and you didn't. You were late to every other session. What kind of team leader does that? You said to us, go and write your parts and we'll stick them together in the end."

"It shows," says Cami, shaking her head.

"Is this true, Max, Silas?" asks Rudy.

Max and Silas exchange a glance, then a weary nod.

"Oh come on. That's uncool, guys," says Maurice.

No one has further questions, like it's not even worth it. My heart goes out to Max and Silas, who have clearly tried to make something out of… whatever this was. Then my focus is on Nicholas. Even with Maurice clearly not pulling as team leader, the speed at which Nicholas threw him into the wolf pit puts me on edge.

"All right. Sir Mah. Your team next."

So we're last. Great.

Sheng stands robotically and his team follows. One great one, one poor one. I don't think Sheng aims to have the best presentation, only to do well enough to satisfy. He marches down the tiers as Kingsley saunters behind. Parker, Jeremiah and Ben provide the bounce as they form an equal line.

"Hello—" Sheng clears his throat and loudly repronounces. "Hello. I am Sheng." He swallows, fiddles with the cards in his hands. "This is Kingsley, Parker, Jeremiah, and— and Ben. Our topic is the government's cabinet and the democratic election of the… of our prime minister, Wafiya Ahmed."

It strikes me hard then. Sheng has bad stage fright. He must have. The way he only glances at Cami and co. for half a millisecond before dipping his head… I've never seen him so nervous and wound-up before. How often is he in front of the cameras like this? Besides the odd questions lobbed his way on the Report, not often. At least his teammates seem to be holding it together.

Their presentation comes with a projection on the canvas. It's information-light, mostly formed of pictures (and memes, à la Ben) to complement the topic. Sheng rigidly makes his way through his portion before passing it to Kingsley, who smoothly engages the panel like old friends. Parker powers through his stutter like a champion, taking a brave moment to breathe deeply and refocus when it gets too much, even if it costs them vital time. That his team allowed him that is wonderful to see.

"So," Jeremiah continues to explain, "Ahmed's opponent, Billy Sanchez, attempted to take advantage of her wavering political support and asked Ahmed to drop out of the race. But Ahmed responded—"

"No, I don't think I will," says Ben.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes, but it at least gets a laugh from JJ.

Ben continues. "Ahmed stuck to her guns, and it ultimately paid off when she defeated Sanchez in Illéa's first election, so much so that Sanchez stepped down as party leader, making way for newcomer Kenley Plantagenet to take her place."

"And… that's it," Sheng says abruptly. "Thank you."

A mild clap ensues.

"Only a little over time," says JJ. "Very good. I particularly like that you used other historically established ministries to inform your presentation about our own."

Lilly signs, and JJ says, "Lady Carter agrees with me. Do you think the upheaval of the monarchy's transition affected the results of the election?"

"Certainly," Kingsley pipes. His voice is like peanut butter. Smooth but with a little rugged crunch. "We were in a precarious position at that moment of time. The castes were in the middle of being dissolved, and His Majesty was only a few weeks into his reign by the time Prime Minister Ahmed was sworn in. It certainly put negative strain on political parties involved."

"I… I disagree."

My eyes land on Sheng, but his back is straight, pretending Kingsley isn't besides him, eyes wide.

"I think, though it was risky… I think it was what the people wanted, and they were willing to put in the work for it. I think the positive future outweighed the negative present."

"And what he means by that is that everything was new; the government, the monarch, the parties. There was disenchantment with the system but not enough that people—"

"No, no, Kingsley, there's no need to twist his words," Cami pronounces above him. Sheng and Kingsley straighten. "You don't always have to agree, especially on something like this. In fact, I like that you have differing opinions. It shows us that you all have minds of your own."

Kingsley puffs up like a peacock whose feathers have been washed and buffed. Sheng nods tersely, though I can tell he's glad Cami stood up for him and his thoughts.

"Thank you, that will be all. Finally, Sir Watanabe's group. Team Yamato, feat. Avian."

I close my eyes, take a deep breath. I don't know why I'm so nervous. At the end of the day, this doesn't affect me more than a tiny sway in public perception, but for the boys, it'll be the difference between popularity and disdain, from staying and elimination. I stand besides Avian as we make it to the stage.

"Good afternoon to the panel." Yamato introduces us, me with titles and all, to everyone. Suddenly my fingers itch to fidget, but I clench my note cards tightly and resist the urge to pull at the hem of my dress. "Our topic of discussion is the political motivations behind Selections of the past."

Yamato speaks clearly, without intonation, but at least with a passion he's clawed up from whichever crevice it formed. He starts with Damon Illéa's Selection to set the tone, and takes my advice to run over a little to cover everything. Avian follows with Clarkson Schreave's Selection, using less time to describe my ancestor in gory detail. I'm next, and I inject some enthusiasm into my topic of Maxon, dabbling over the tumult of the name-choosing process and the consequences thereafter. Elliot follows with Galloway's – Diantha's – Selection, and I can feel how hard he's trying to make himself sound more articulate. He's written more since last session too, lengthening his portion. Finally Soren describes Roy's Selection and ends on a positive high note to close us off.

When we finish, four seconds over time, I try to read the faces of my friends and family. Cami is scribbling furiously, not even looking up. Rudy is rolling his lips, his gaze passing between each of us with varying degrees if curiosity. JJ and Lilly sign but twist their bodies so I can't read all their gestures, only able to pick out the words: monarchy, Selection, nuance, and average.

"Well…?" I prompt, after too long a moment of awkward silence.

"It didn't flow as well as I was hoping," JJ begins, causing Yamato to clam up like a shell. "You would tell us about one Selection, then move onto the next, then the next, et cetera."

Lilly nods her agreement. "I would've liked to have seen more about the deeper nuances of the decisions made."

JJ repeats this for the boys. "Actually, here's an interesting question for all the boys and not Her Highness: do you think this current Selection is politically motivated?"

Cami doesn't say anything, so this question must've been approved behind my back.

"O-Of course not," Elliot squeaks.

"I actually think it is," says Yamato, "but… not in the same way as these other ones are. There's always multiple reasons to have a Selection. I think Her Highness' chief reason was to find a partner, but there are many benefits that happen when it occurs anyway, such as boosting in morale, a more positive image of the royal family…"

I grin really, extra hard, trying to shoo out the thought that my chief reason for having the Selection was to make one of the boys behind me jealous. Which I guess it is about a partner. Sort of.

Cami nods. "A wise answer."

"It also shows maturation of the royal in question," says Soren, glancing at me. "A Selection is a tradition only done when the royal believes they are ready to undertake such a huge task."

"Very true also."

"And Your Highness," Rudy opens, and I know I'm about to get utterly demolished, "a question for you. How do you think your team fared?"

I want to sink into the ground and turn into a plant. Of all the questions, why this one? Yamato, Elliot, Avian and Soren look my way, and though I'm staring resolutely at Rudy, I can feel the heat of their gazes, searing like a sunburn on my sides.

"It had its ups and downs," I hedge. "There were arguments."

"And what about your team leader?"

"Yamato was… firm. Not very compassionate most of the time, but firm." I think it's a fair assessment until I see the hurt that crosses his face, replaced instantly with that passiveness. But it was there. "I think he was so organised but sometimes forgot to have fun whilst we were doing it."

The presentation ends, and the boys return to their seats. The panel don't deliberate for too long.

"I think the divisions are clear enough without further discussion." Cami faces the boys. "So congratulations to Sir Bahe's team for the best presentation."

They clap and cheer, swapping fist bumps and excited grins. I'm glad for Zelda and the rest of them. Not so glad for me.

"Sir Mah's comes in second. Sir Watanabe's, third. And trailing in last is Sir Elsmore's presentation."

No one is surprised. Sheng looks elated to have come second, though the bar was kind of low. Shame courses through me – I live a political life. Surely I should have done better?

"And now, Gail, do you have anything to add?"

Do I?

My eyes find Yamato and Elliot. They sit with rods up their backs, their eyes so honed on mine that it's like they're staring into my soul. Do I want to eliminate them today? For how badly they've been acting these past two weeks?

But they apologised. They even came together to do it, choosing to spend their last moments before the presentations to speak to me. That shows at least that they're capable of growth. They can at least take criticism.

I take a deep breath. I need to follow my instincts.

"I have decided to eliminate two people."

A collective breath intakes. Yamato and Elliot glance at one another.

"The people going home today are Maurice Elsmore and Nicholas Jacobs." I smile sympathetically in their direction – Maurice is looking away, but Nicholas is stricken, mouth open. "I'm sorry to you both, but Maurice, it's clear you're not a leader, even when asked to be. You didn't take this seriously, and as much as I admire you for your chill personality, I need someone who will also step up when the time comes."

"But why am I going home?" asks Nicholas. "I-I did the presentation!"

"Because instead of being professional about it, you immediately threw Maurice under the bus. I get that you want to be perfect, Nicholas, but I'm not looking for that. I'm looking for people who will work in teams as well as they will individually."

An awkward silence follows. I hate this moment after eliminations – the silence, putridly thick and hard, that lodges itself in the room like a rock in my throat. I hate how everyone watches with silent pity as Maurice stands, sighs, mumbles a weak apology and mooches from the room without another word, to never be remembered.

And I hate when they fight back.

"I really don't deserve this," Nicholas calls urgently, as if rallying the others to side with him. Wisely no one speaks up. "I helped you, at the debate."

"Okay? One instance of goodness doesn't dispel this bad one."

"It evens out."

"No it doesn't. It doesn't work like that."

"But I-I'm being punished for Maurice's mistakes!"

"He was a bad team leader, but you should've taken that in your stride, Nicholas. You should've followed Max and Silas in example. It's clear you jumped at the opportunity to make him look worse." He opens his mouth but I say, "Please stop arguing. My mind is made up."

Nicholas lifts his chin, snatches his jacket, and storms out.

There's a huge exhale with the boys left. Fifteen. Only fifteen of them.

I take a deep breath. Nicholas' words were cutting but at least not aimed at me, so I focus on who's left rather than who's gone, and let the thought soothe.

"Great work everyone else. I shall have to think of a reward for Kajika's team for doing so well and making the rest of us look bad. Maybe a group date?"

Cami nods. "I'm sure they'd love that. Well done all. You deserve a rest after this."

"But don't rest too hard!" JJ calls. "I still expect your essays to be tip-top shape next class!"

"And there's the ball to organise!" Rudy adds.

A groan-laugh rumbles out just as the cameras cut. Immediately my shoulders slump. It's over. Finally over. A hand rests on my back, and Cami smiles at me gently.

"You made the right decision."

"Did I?" I ask, fumbling my hands. "Maurice didn't look like he cared. And Nicholas was so… so mad about it."

"That's how it is. Some people take to elimination differently. I agree wholeheartedly with your decision to send them both home." She squeezes. "And you did it on camera, too. That's brave. When the footage goes public, it'll be obvious who did the right thing, and let me tell you, it wasn't Sir Jacobs."

Knowing that Cami agrees is enough to alleviate some of the red-hot embers that flicker in my chest.

As the boys descend from the bleachers and congratulate or commiserate with one another, Avian bounces up to me and ropes me into a hug. Instantly his smell envelops me – something warm and spicy.

"Hey, we did great!"

"We did?" I mumble with my lips smushed against his chest.

"Yeah!" He pushes me back to arm's length, grip squeezing my shoulders. "Because we weren't dead last! Hahah!"

"Such a high bar to reach," Soren comments, but there's an eeny-meeny smile on his face too. "Yeah. We did all right."

Yamato and Elliot approach me then. There's a myriad of expressions written there. Confusion. Relief. More confusion. Elliot has the heart to look more apologetic than Yamato, though even Mr Cold as Ice's brows furrow with remorse.

"We're not eliminated," he says. The end of his sentence tips up in question, but not in a way that dares me to reconsider.

"Nope. You're both staying." I look between them. Yamato meets my eye. Elliot doesn't. "You've both proved that you can be bigger than yourselves, more than Maurice and Nicholas. I'm glad you put your differences aside for the presentation."

"And now you can go back to relentlessly loathing each other."

I nudge Avian in the side.

"I'm not asking you to be best friends," I say instead. "And I'm not asking you to talk to each other ever again. But we can at least appreciate that we all like different things, can't we?"

Yamato nods. "Of course."

"Yes, absolutely," Elliot agrees.

"Good. Then it was fun working with you. With all of you." I press a hand to Avian and Soren's sides. "I agree with Avian. We didn't win but at least we didn't come last!"

I think if I look back on this moment, I will laugh. Which is why I start laughing hysterically now, and the others, bless their hearts, join in.

"Now I'm hungry," Avian says, energetically gesturing to the door. "Is it lunchtime yet?"

"It's lunch now," says Yamato.

"Thank god. I need to eat after that!" Elliot says.

"You always need to eat, Elliot."

"Shut up, Avian."

I don't think I can feel better about the afternoon until, not long after we empty for the studio and head towards the Great Room, I get a text message.

Hey Su, it's Rose. I know this is really weird and you can say no, but I was wondering, totally okay if you decline, if you and Linkle want to come over for a sleepover like tomorrow night, or maybe next week after practice? Like if you don't want to then that's fine, you can forget I said anything. I invited Janet and Beverly too but so it'll be a big fun group of us, but you know, whatever you want is fine.

I still in the hallway and reread the text. My smile widens. I have enough social brownie points with the hockey team to get invited to a sleepover? Okay, it's only Rose, but still. Me, getting invited to things! I have to withhold a squeal. But as quickly as my excitement ignites does it douse.

No. There's no way I can go.

I can never be spontaneous. My own words revolve in my head. Susanetta cannot go because Gail cannot. It's already cost me a vital place on the team in the tournament.

So will I let it cost me friendship, too?

I pocket my phone and clench my fists, resuming my strides with my head raised. No. Princess or not, I will find a way to get to this sleepover and paint my nails and gossip and watch silly movies, and even if I don't actually sleep over and have to bail halfway, or if I get a telling-off afterwards, so be it. All I need is to get there.

And as my eyes fall on Max at the back of the dining hall, a plan forms in my mind.


A/N: So the presentations draw to a close. Wow, I loved writing this chapter so much, I cranked it out in one session. Drama is always fun to write, heheh.

What did you think of the outcome? I maaaay have misled you all thinking it was Yamato and Elliot's time to go, heh ;) Unfortunately we do have to say goodbye to Maurice Elsmore and Nicholas Jacobs; Maurice and his endless chill and Nicholas' perfectionist tendencies were really fun to write, so big thanks to Exotence and Fairytoto1 for them! I have to admit I feel worst about this elimination yet, but alas, they didn't really vibe with the task at hand.

Also I feel I should note I've started posting more snippets on my Pinterest, so if you want to get ahead of the game and speculate to your heart's content (PMs always welcome), then I encourage you to follow me there. Username is the same. :D

Leave a review with your thoughts, and thanks for reading! Also, enjoy the NTT, hahahahahah.

~ GWA

NTT: Have I walked into a moment of intimacy? A moment of betrayal?