A/N: Y'all. I changed the cover again. I have no idea why. Sorry if it took you some time to find it *cries*

Just a quick announcement, THE REPORT IS HAPPENING IN A FEW CHAPTERS. So please send me the outfits you want your character to wear for the Report. Also, if you'd like to, you can also submit a few questions you want the show's host to ask your character, and your character's reaction/answer to those questions as well. I'm planning on a few fun events before the Report, which means every character will have something entertaining to talk about, so don't worry about that, haha.

Also, as the story progresses, I'm planning on shortening the amount of POVs. Like, a considerable amount of the story will be told from the perspective of Alex, but several scenes will still be told from the Selecteds' perspectives. This is because I recently noticed that all this jumping around has made the story a bit choppy and awkward, so in order to smoothen things up, I'll be doing fewer POV changes. Okay, fewer isn't a good way to put it. I'll be doing longer POVs. So each POV will be longer, which means there's going to be fewer POVs per chapter. Does this make sense?

.:*:.

KELLY

"Girls," the lady instructs, "please follow me."

We do as we're told, walking behind her in a tight line. The pool party has sucked the energy out of most of the girls, but not a single one of us dares to break the rules. I carelessly trail behind, near the end of the line, but the lady in front of us is too busy to properly see.

"Ladies!" she scolds, "please walk gracefully, for heaven's sake! Don't go stomping on the floor like two-year-olds - you're here for the crown, act worthy of it - "

"Miss Anastasia," Kaitlyn calls, "Where are we going?"

"Why, to the Women's Room, of course, haven't you read the rules?"

"We haven't been given access to the Women's Room yet, which obviously disappointed most of us and lowered our expectations," I yell over the noise of heels busily clicking on marble.

Miss Anastasia looks positively scandalized. "Miss Kelly," she sputters, "Dare to use that tone one more time - "

"Stacy," Miss Eleanor chides gently, "they are the Selected. It is their first day of training." We have apparently been given two guides-slash-teachers-slash-trainers, an elderly woman named Miss Eleanor and a relatively younger one, Miss Anastasia, who is presumably in her thirties or so. Miss Eleanor has proven to be pretty okay, from what I've gathered during the past few minutes, but Anastasia...

"Training?" Grayson wonders, and several others echo her words. I'm also pretty curious, but I don't voice my opinion as the girls break into nervous, excited chatter.

"Ladies! Mind your manners, please, no loud talking," Miss Anastasia admonishes yet again, ignoring the swift looks of her senior. "For heavens' sake, this is the Selection!"

After what feels like a long while of being berated by a certain Miss Anastasia, we finally reach the Women's Room. It's pretty easy to locate, even from afar - the doors are wider, painted a different color, and the room itself is at a close distance from our own quarters. When we get in, I look around in appreciation of the high ceiling, clean floors, and overall spacious place. It's similar to most of the palace, but it has a certain feeling to it that I can't quite place.

It's furnished nicely. Long sofas arranged in a comfortable pattern, bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The lights seem to flicker for a moment when we first enter the room, taking in the information in our ID cards and acting in accordance. We're instructed to sit down on the sofas, and there's much commotion while doing so, which, to the delight of many others, annoys Anastasia even more.

"Ladies." Miss Anastasia starts, standing at the front of the room, "As you will now know, this is the Women's Room. The first elimination has taken place, so the rest of you privileged will be given the wonderful favor of this room. Many women have laughed, cried, and exchanged precious parts of their life in this very room you are in; this is a great honor, ladies, one that should not be overlooked! I predict that most of your future time in the palace shall be spent here in the Women's Room. It is a great honor, indeed, such a great honor..." She pauses to wipe away a few invisible tears. If there's such a thing as a ladylike sniffle, it's the sound Anastasia is making at this very moment.

"Stacy," Miss Eleanor interrupts, "Isn't it a good idea to move on to the next topic... the most important one..."

"Yes, of course," Anastasia says, "You will now be given lessons, in all subjects... Palace etiquette, history, and politics being one of the few... in preparation of your possible future as the queen of your country."

The reactions of the Selected vary; some chat excitedly, others groan, but most of us remain calm and expressionless - at least, we try to be. It's not that surprising, really, but it's new. And pretty interesting, considering the fact that nothing interesting has been going on lately.

"These lessons will be taught in a separate room. I will later guide you ladies to this room, however now, we have more announcements to make..."

"Yes," Miss Eleanor tell us, and beams, "Girls, this Friday you will be appearing in your first ever Report!"

This time, the reactions are united: a gasp of thrilled excitement. The Report is a big deal. An enormous one, definitely. I don't know about the Women's Room, but appearing in the Report is surely a great honor.

"The dresses will be prepared... our maids are very talented, we assure you," Miss Eleanor smiles broadly in pride, "Just tell us the desired color, length, any designs you'd like to try on... and whatever it is, we can make it work!"

I raise my hand. Anastasia sniffs disapprovingly, but she still says, "Yes, Miss Kelly?"

"Do we have to wear dresses? Like, are we not allowed pants?"

I can feel Anastasia taking in my outfit, all black shirt and jeans as always, and I know that in this moment, I'm being judged with no mercy. "Well," she starts dubiously, "There have been some cases of females wearing... pants during the Report... However, Miss Kelly, you must remember, you are a member of the Selected now. According to tradition, the Selected are to wear formal gowns during public events and appearances at all costs, unless, of course, there is a certain theme to be adhered to."

"So no pants?" Kaitlyn asks.

"Yes, I would strongly advise you to wear a dress," Miss Anastasia tells us, "As it is the tradition of the Selection."

None of the girls seem that bothered by the information. I note with cynical resignment that the Selection is all about the horrific tradition of this horrific country, keeping the castes for the sake of tradition, launching a public event of picking the next queen by a weird survival system for the sake of tradition - it seems that tradition in Illéa is something that would be kept even when it has proved to be poisonous to society as a whole.

"Furthermore..." Miss Eleanor smiles. "Congratulations to Miss Piper and Miss Arianna for your newest achievements!"

A brief rustle of noise sweeps the room as the girls burst into chatter. I find myself curious, too - what achievements? Are there any goals to accomplish here in the Selection, other than winning the crown?

The girls in question have highly different reactions. Piper doesn't seem that surprised, while Arianna blushes a deep pink. She covers her face with her hand and peeks through the fingers at her friend Shilla, who's giving her a look I can't quite decipher.

Miss Eleanor gives all of us a bright smile and glides out the room, Anastasia trailing behind her disapprovingly. As soon as they're gone, the room erupts with noise.

"Piper! Piper?" The girls clamber to get closer to her. "What did she mean by achievements? What did you do? Are we supposed to do something?"

Piper shrugs. "It's not that big of a deal, but the prince did ask me on a date, if that's what she's talking about - "

"WHAT?!" Some of them scream, others sigh wistfully, and a few burst out in tears. "His highness did WHAT!"

"Guys, it's not that big of a deal," Piper repeats, her accent growing stronger as she talks faster, "This is the second week, how close can we be? The dates were probably chosen out of the Elite, just because we're the Elite, and since the Elite are chosen by the royal advisers, there's no knowing how the prince actually feels about me. Or Arianna."

All heads swivel around at that. Again, Arianna Ivanovich blushes fiercely from the attention. The girls know that she's shy, and for a moment, they all falter - the Selected may be competitive, but we're not idiots. We don't force speech upon the unwilling.

After a moment, though, the girls' curiosity wins over their politeness. "Did he really ask you on a date?" Julianne asks, and I'm surprised. She doesn't seem like the type to speak up, but I guess she's curious enough.

"Like Piper said, it's not that big of a deal," Shilla snaps at her, who ducks her head and quickly steps back. Shilla doesn't have that of a good reputation among the other Selected. She's pretty intimidating, to begin with, and gives off this faint aura of none of you are worthy of me, which keeps away most of the girls - competition is harsh, anyway. I don't know if her outer self is how she really is, because from what I've seen, she's really nice with Arianna - caring and considerate. There's a chance it's all a fake persona, but I can't be completely sure.

"When? When is it?" Cordelia asks curiously.

Arianna whispers, "Tomorrow."

Everybody ooohs.

Someone screeches, and I whip my head around to see none other than Belinda Vlahakis, all teared up and whatnot.

"Why didn't Alexander choose me?" she wails, "Why didn't he? I was sooo nice to him! And - " she sends Arianna a tearful glare - "He likes me too! He said so himself!"

"You sure about that?" Shilla mutters, and Belinda's eyes narrow.

"Yes! Why wouldn't you believe me!"

"So many reasons."

"Well, he said he's in love with me!"

"Well, I'm saying I don't believe you!"

"Well - " Belinda starts, then sniffles, "You should! He's in love with me!"

"Okay, we believe you, so shut up," I tell her, and she opens her eyes - and mouth - wide.

I press my hands to my ears just in time to block her next round of wails.

"NO! This isn't real! This isn't real! You're all lying!" she yells, and rushes out the room, mascara streaming down her face. No one seems sad to let her go.

.:*:.

SAVANNAH

"Finally, that idiot's gone," Veronica says, grinning, and we all let out a sigh of relief.

Veronica's reputation has slowly built itself up during the past few days. She used to own a nasty personality, one that made her scoff and look down her nose at everybody, even the two princesses. But she somehow turned from horrible to angelic a few days ago.

At first, I didn't believe her. I never trust people easily; my years serving under deceitful bosses and families has turned me against most of humanity. Which is why I was one of the few girls who refused to attend her pool party. I ended up regretting it, however - because from what Elizabeth told me, it was fun.

"That girl knows how to throw a party," she'd said. "She has this way of doing things that... is somehow perfect. I don't know how she manages to do it, but she does."

I stare at the girl in front of me now, the new Veronica with a lot of friends, the girl who's nice to everybody and is incredibly smart. Of course, her stunning looks play a huge part in her popularity as well - even I can't help but feel enchanted by her beauty.

I'm trying to believe what Ellie is saying, that the original Veronica was just a poorly constructed strategy. The supposedly real Veronica is a lot better, and while I can't know for sure if it's truly her, I'm working on lowering my guard, slowly but surely.

I hope Ellie is right about her.

.:*:.

VICTORIA

We walk out of the Women's Room in a daze. While most of the others have decided to stay and take time to revel in their new entitlement, we - Louisa, Shilla, Arianna, Kelly, and I - have decided to leave. It's not that big of a surprise, really. Louisa, having lived in the palace all her life, wouldn't find the Women's Room any more appealing than her own, and Shilla, along with Arianna, must've felt discomfort at the attention of the other Selected. Kelly - well, Kelly is just Kelly. And as for me, I simply don't feel like staying in a room filled with gossip and chatter.

I'm thinking of splitting up, but apparently, the others have different thoughts. Louisa turns around to face us, a mischievous grin on her face. "Guys," she says excitedly, "let's go to the kitchens!"

"The kitchens?" Shilla and Kelly both ask at the same time - but while Kelly's voice is filled with doubt, Shilla's is filled with curiosity.

"Yeah, the kitchens," Louisa tells us, "The chefs always have the most delicious food in there - and if they don't, they'll always whip up some more in a few minutes or so. They're really fun to be around, and they love visitors. I can't wait to introduce you guys to them!"

"Cool," I say, "I'm in."

Shilla nods, and looks at Arianna. "Are you coming?"

"I... also think it will be fun," Arianna says, "so... yes."

Louisa expectantly looks at Kelly. "What about you?"

Kelly shakes her head. "I'm trying to visit other places in the palace."

"Can't you visit them later?"

"I have a plan set up," Kelly tells her, and begins walking in the opposite direction. Louisa stares after her for a moment, then shrugs. "Okay, then, I guess it's just the four of us." She starts off the hallway, motioning for us to follow. "C'mon, let's go have some fun."

...

The kitchens are much better than I thought they would be. Spacious and sparkling clean, stocked with shelves full of the most delicious food on Earth. It's designed not as an ordinary kitchen, but as the chef's ideal paradise.

We spend hours in there, just laughing and stuffing our stomachs with the best kind of food. There's a wide variety of different confectioneries, and they're just the right size that allow us to shovel in more and more without feeling full. The chefs are incredibly nice, just like Louisa - now Maris - said, and we simply sit around laughing and talking about everything random.

I can't help but feel disappointed when it's eventually time to leave. With many promises to come back soon, we gather up the remaining food that the chefs offer, and make our way out of the room.

I'm initially surprised to see a guard standing in front of the wide doors leading out of the kitchens. Then I look to the side, and see several more. Maris, who I assumed would know what's going on, also looks bewildered - but she soon recovers. "It's probably because of the Selection," she tells us, and we nod in hasty agreement.

We decide that it's too much of a waste to let this day go by, so we plan to visit more fun places in the palace. Maris considers inviting Kelly, but none of us want to disturb her and annoy her further. We excitedly discuss our next destination, all the while trying to ignore the superfluity of guards lined up against the walls.

"This can't be right," Shilla finally whispers. "This just seems weird, okay? Like, there used to be a couple of guards here and there, yeah, but now they're just... they're everywhere."

"It's scary," Arianna agrees, her eyes darting to and fro.

Maris glares at the guards. "I can ask them, if you want - I know most of them, but they'll probably just pretend I'm not there, since I'm not an authority of high position. They're trained to only take orders from their bosses. So if we want answers, we need to ask one of the Royals."

"Didn't you say your family was close to the Royals?" I ask her. "Can't you just, like, call your mom or something?"

"Nope!" She tells me. "I never call my mom."

Arianna looks genuinely confused. "Why not?"

"Long story," Maris replies breezily, and waves her hand as if to assure us that it's no big deal. "I have Sera's number, anyway - I'll ask her."

"Wow, you must be so close with the Royals," I say, "Like, you'll already know all of them. Like know them know them."

Maris shrugs. "I mean, yeah, I guess, we've known each other for a long time. And we had the same tutors, so we're pretty close. But it's not like what everyone thinks - just because I've known Alex longer doesn't mean I'm at an advantage. We're more like, y'know, friends. And Seb and Sera - they're practically like my siblings. So yeah. I don't think I have a chance with Alex, since we both don't really think of each other as a prospective date."

"Then why did you enter the Selection?" Arianna asks, at the same time Shilla and I both say, "You call him Alex?"

"Mother forced me to enter," Maris tells Arianna, then: "Yeah, I call him Alex."

"Wow," I say, "That's like, so cool. Not the your-mom-forcing-you part, which is obviously not cool, but the yeah-I-call-him-Alex part. I wish I knew the Royals too."

"You do," Maris assures me, "And just wait, you'll soon get even closer to them. The queen is incredibly excited about this whole Selection. Something about having thirty-five more daughters? Which, of course, horribly weirded out her actual children."

We laugh, then the atmosphere turns serious again.

Shilla shudders. "So what are we going to do about the guards?"

None of us have an answer.

"Y'know what," I decide, fed up with the lack of solutions, "I'm asking them." I start off toward the nearest guard.

"No!" Maris calls, "You won't be able to do anything. Like I said, they'll just ignore you!"

"Then I'll make them answer," I reply, "I'm tired of being watched everywhere I go." Despite the others' protests, I step up in front of the guard.

"What's going on?" I demand, turning my voice as fierce as possible. "Why are you all standing here at once?"

Like Maris warned, the guard ignores me. His icy blue eyes stare forward with no indication of hearing my question.

"What's going on?" I repeat, louder this time. I look around. None of the guards are making a move to answer. "I didn't know all the palace guards are deaf," I mutter, "Seriously, you're just gonna keep on pretending you can't hear me?"

When they still don't answer, Maris comes up behind me. "C'mon, Tori, let's just go. It's never going to work."

"Trust me," I tell her, "It will. Or I'll make it happen, anyway."

A snort sounds from somewhere behind me. I whip my head around and narrow my eyes, trying to figure out the source of the sound. "Who was that?"

Silence. I grin.

"Answer me, you idiot, whoever you are - "

"Excuse me?" A guard steps up from the shadows. "Who's the idiot here?"

"You," I say simply. I shake my head and inwardly scoff. So he thinks he's better than us, does he?

"Don't you have any female guards?" I ask - slowly, as if I think I need to match my speed with his lacking intelligence. Being one of the first female firefighters in Cress, it bothers me whenever I see a lack of diversity in a job. I don't think I've seen any female guards in the palace, which irks me, for some reason. Is the lack of diversity the reason why this guard somehow thinks he's better than me?

"We do, but none of them are any more interested in talking to you," the guard says lazily, "Shut up and go play princess or whatever, isn't that what y'all are here for?"

I laugh. "What's your name?"

"You seriously think I'm going to tell you?"

"Number 21," another guard says, "Number 21, stop."

"Shut up," the guard in front of me snarls.

"No," the other guard responds, and steps up to stand beside his annoying companion. "Lady, please excuse this guard's behavior. He certainly does not know his place."

"Understand your own place before you accuse me of mine," Guard 21 growls, "and go back to your spot, 22."

"Not until you go back to yours," he challenges. I tilt my head to study the new guard. Even though he's tall - even for a guard - he doesn't look half as frightening as his associates.

"This would not have been a problem if you hadn't spoken up in the first place," he states, "I suspect we have crossed at least seven different orders by now."

"You better shut that pretty little mouth, 22, before I - "

"STOP!" The guard closest to me - the one with icy eyes that I originally spoke to - shouts before anything major can happen. As soon as he does, both guards 21 and 22 go still. I recognize that he's of a higher position - the designs on his uniform are a different color. "Apparently, neither of you know your place. I refuse to tolerate your unacceptable behavior. Go back to your positions. Expect extra work tonight."

Both the guards silently step back into the shadows without another word. I marvel at the power of the higher guard. He's scary, without a doubt.

I'm not giving up, though.

"So," I begin casually, "What's going on? Why are so many guards situated over here?"

"Lady," the higher guard says gruffly, "We have been given strict orders not to leak any information on this matter. Please ignore our presence. Pretend we are not here."

"Yeah, well, it's not easy to ignore the presence of, like, twenty guards in every hall. How are we supposed to pretend everything's normal when it obviously isn't?"

"That is not of our concern." With that, the guard goes silent and refuses to make another sound.

I sigh, shaking my head as I make my way back to my friends. Maris pats my arm sympathetically. "They're half robots, Tori, it's a miracle they even did anything out of order back there."

"'If something can possibly harm or affect, in any way, innocent passerbys, we mandate the disclosure of any information related to the source of danger,'" I explain, looking at Maris. "As a general rule of thumb, guards, firefighters, policemen... anyone who does work related to the safety of people must put the safety of the people they work for above all else. I don't understand why the palace guards are instructed not to do so."

"It's pretty complicated," Maris admits. "Like, I get that, y'know, since you're a firefighter, you do all sorts of chivalrous stuff, but palace guards aren't for the public - they're for the protection of the royal family. So... they only care about anything that directly affects the Royals."

"I don't mean to sound egotistical, but I do directly affect the Royals. We all do. Every single one of the Selected is a prospective wife of the future king - and besides, why wouldn't they try to protect anyone other than the Royals? Don't they even have a conscience?"

"Yeah, that's the thing about royal guards - like I said, they're practically half robots. They've been trained to follow nothing but the orders of their bosses, protect no one but the Royals."

"That sucks," Shilla offers.

I nod vigorously. "It definitely does. I mean - " I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry for getting so triggered, but I just can't help it. They're all just so annoying."

"Which is why I've always made it my top priority to annoy them right back," Maris tells me. "C'mon, let's make you feel better. How about the VR room? You good with that?"

"Sure." I grin, shaking away my annoyance for a better, brighter emotion. "VR room it is, then. Though be warned: I can be very competitive when I set my mind to something."

"Who isn't?" Maris grins back at me, and I can see her familiar mischievous glint. "Race you to the stairs?"

Shilla smiles and rolls her eyes. "We're the bane of Anastasia's existence," she decides, as we all start running - no, stomping - down the hallway, making sure to be as loud and as unladylike as is humanly possible.

...

.:*:.

ARIANNA

He's wearing a casual suit, hair - freed from its usual immaculate style - tousled in the early spring breeze. I walk up to him, my white floral dress dancing with the wind, and he offers me his arm, which I accept. My ponytail swishes in tandem with the wind as we slowly walk to the small picnic prepared for us on the top of a gentle hill, not far from the palace grounds.

There are no bugs to be seen, but the whizzing cameras are enough to ensure me they are insects themselves as they fly around us, taking photos in rapid succession, filming our public date for the media. This time there are actual cameramen to be seen, crouching behind tall blades of grass as to minimize the awkwardness of being photographed - but I can feel it nevertheless.

A single servant is waiting at the top of the hill. He bows as we approach, and leads us to the invitingly large square of fabric laid on the grass in front of us.

I slowly sit down, my mind in a light trance. The red-and-white striped sheet is soft and flowy, adhering to the standard of a clichéd picnic, adding to the overall dreamy atmosphere. The prince looks much at ease as he sets himself down in a comfortable position, looking around our surroundings and complimenting the servant on the preparations. I thank the servant as well, smile at one of the cameras, and we start our date.

Even with the relaxed ambience, I feel uncomfortably out of place on the patch of fabric atop the hill, the palace on the side of our view. I would've rather enjoyed the dreamlike surroundings if I was here alone - but I can feel too many presences around me, which adds to my feeling of uneasiness. I timidly chew on my lower lip, wondering how long we are expected to stay.

"Nervous, aren't you?" His voice breaks my reverie, and he grins when I start. "That's a yes, then."

I feel my cheeks redden as I look down at my lap, clasping my hands together. I don't know what to say, don't know what to do. Everything around us is soft and fuzzy, like a blanket - but the blanket has piled up and over, suffocating me, and I feel the urgent need to get out and simply breathe.

"It's okay," the prince reassures me, "I understand your discomfort." He leans back, then asks, "Do you think you can stomach some food? We've missed lunch to come here."

"I... thank you," I murmur, accepting the plate of delicacies. I set it on my lap and pick up the plastic fork, my hand trembling as I take a small bite. I'm extra careful not to let my makeup smudge on the food - the lipstick I'm wearing today is a bold coral pink, a color I would never have tried if it weren't for the insistence of my stylists.

The pressure to talk is unbearable. I feel thankful the date is being held as a picnic; a full mouth will be a good excuse for my lack of words.

Prince Alexander closes his eyes and inhales deeply, breathing in the warm air. He's also holding a plate of food, but he doesn't eat anything as he looks at the far horizon, where the skyline of Anveires can be seen. "Your province - Lotus, wasn't it?"

I nod, and when I realize I've swallowed the previous bite of food, I quickly take another one.

"Two rebels have been found in Lotus." He speaks quietly, refusing to break the mood. "I hope your family has been safe."

"They've been staying in the house for the past few days," I reply, "we may not have many rebels, but we're still very cautious."

"I'm glad to hear so," he tells me, "this recent... uprising may seem like something far from us here in the palace, but really, it's an emergency. A crisis, if you will."

I nod again, and let out a shuddering sigh. I've always felt some sort of apologetic emotion toward the lower castes, something that mostly derived from the knowledge that I had done nothing to be born better off. I've received good education from a young age, I've been given a roof - a rather luxurious one - to live beneath and the unwavering promise of food on the table. Whenever I'm reminded of the gap between the castes, I'm constantly struck by the feeling that I owe them something, if not everything. Which is one of the reasons why I can't completely bring myself to blame the lower castes for rebelling when they did.

The Selection may be a cruel event, but in my opinion, its one virtue is that it treats all the citizens the same. All people living in this country, no matter their caste, will be given a chance at the crown and - ultimately - the throne.

The prince doesn't pressure me to talk, which I feel grateful for. I glance behind me, worrying if the cameras will be satisfied with what they've captured, since we haven't really done anything even remotely romantic. Prince Alexander seems to notice as well, because he scoots closer and reaches out for my hand. He laughs when I jump, nearly pulling my hand out of his grasp. "This will be enough for them," he says, lightly inclining his head toward the cameras. "They're behind us, anyway - the result of today's picnic will be fairly idyllic footage of our silhouettes against the sky, and people will go crazy over such a picture."

I wonder if the prince has anything against the cameras. His words certainly indicate so. He would've seen them every day of his life; from the moment he was born, cameras persistently flew around him, snapping photos and broadcasting his private life to the entire country. He seems to be accepting his fate with weary resignation and bitter resentment, putting up with the cameras for the sole reason of keeping his image. It seems only likely that he would feel negatively about the constant attention and nosiness. If he does, though, he doesn't show it. He smiles and waves, and denies any suspicions.

That is exactly what he does now, smile and wave, and when he turns his head he simply stares at the horizon wordlessly. Curiosity tugs at the tips of my mind, and I tentatively open my mouth.

"...Your highness?"

"Yeah?" The prince smiles encouragingly.

I lower my voice to a volume nearly as quiet as a whisper. "You highness... Why did you pick me for the date?"

He doesn't seem surprised at my question. His grin is even relaxed, his voice tinted with jest as he replies, "You were the least intimidating."

I stare at him, then say, "Oh."

He laughs. "Don't misunderstand, you were pretty intimidating as well."

I don't know whether to laugh along or stay still, so I'm suspended between an awkward mix of smiling and looking like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide with surprise.

The prince laughs again. "Just kidding. There's no need to look that offended."

I blush in embarrassment, fanning my face with my right hand, trying and failing to muster up the least bit of confidence. I feel idiotic, and mildly irritated at the fact that I have no skills in interacting with other people whatsoever.

The rest of the date goes by smoothly. We stay in our spots, breathing in the fresh air, taking in the beautiful view in front of us. I feel myself slowly relaxing as time passes. We don't exchange any more words, but the silence is no longer awkward, as we both seem to be inside our own worlds.

When the time comes for us to stand, we do so wordlessly. Prince Alexander offers me his arm again, and he escorts me back to the palace. The cameras whizz along beside us, filming our every movement, but I realize I no longer mind. Some form of tranquility has taken place inside me, and I do little more than smile and wave, just like the prince himself.

I feel the calm, indifferent mask settle on my face - the same shade of emotion that the prince next to me is wearing, and has worn for the majority of public appearances. The time spent on top of the hill, hearing no sound except for the whizzing of cameras and the wind blowing by my ear, has planted inside me a feeling of cool serenity.

Whether this is a win or a surrender, I do not yet know.

...

A/N: Longest chapter yet :)