CHAPTER 19

Thursday, The 12th of December

Princess Carolynn Schreave

"I have the tickets, Your Highness." Jenna says handing me a heavy white envelope. With the winter collection of Ian Sommerhall's fashion show for Angeles later today, I had become rather impatient that my tickets weren't in my hand -or at least the hand of my personal maid- yet. From what I had heard, it had gotten mixed in with the mail for one of the junior press managers. If I cared enough to find out who it was I would have fired them on the spot.

But you know what, It's the holiday season. I might as well not fire him with what is it...13 days till Christmas. That would be bad form.

I look at the envelope for a second, "That looks rather big for a single ticket." I remark, knowing where this is going.

Jenna turns pink for a second, "Yes, Your Highness. The designer thought you might like to bring some gentlemen of the selection to the show," she informs me.

"Mom put him up to this, didn't she?" I ask.

"I'm not sure, Your Highness. No one tells me these things." Jenna lets out a small laugh at her own joke. I give her a smile so that she doesn't feel awkward. It really wasn't that funny all things considered. Ah well.

"I guess I'll have to talk to her about this myself." I say, lifting myself off the chaise lounger where I had been sitting.

"I believe that she and your father are at a christmas banquet for a cancer awareness organization." Jenna states, "They won't be home till the evening."

Oh right. I forgot about that, but to be fair when Dad told me about it I hadn't really been listening. It got boring.

"I guess I have no choice then." I state, rolling my eyes. "Fine. I'll bring some of the selected. How many does Mom want to come?"

"There are 2 extra tickets in the envelope." Jenna says, "and the designer included a note saying that he thinks the Reddlyn-Monroe boy would like it."

For a moment I consider bringing anyone but Bas to annoy the designer. I'm the princess, who is he to tell me who I should and should not bring to a stupid fashion show? It would certainly be a fun twist, bringing someone completely uninterested in fashion as a whole. But, I'm not going to do that. The designer is probably right, I'm sure Bas would enjoy the fashion show, probably more then anyone else I could possibly bring. And it is almost Christmas. I should be a nice person and bring Bas, I suppose.

Why does being a nice person feel so hard?

I shake the thoughts from my head, looking at Jenna. "He can come. What about the second one?" I ask bluntly.

Jenna shrugs, "Whatever you think is best, Your Highness," she says docily.

"Pick a number, 1 to 35." I tell Jenna.

Jenna looks shocked for a moment, "1," she offers up.

"That would be Allens, right?" I ask, not completely sure that Jenna knows the answer. Either way, I don't wait for her to think about it. "Yeah. It is. And that would be Divesh correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. He can come then."

Jenna nods, "I'll inform the boys 'butlers."

"Oh, and Jenna, I thought about how you wanted to date someone, and I think some of the guards are having their annual Christmas party. You should go. I'll give you the night off."

"Oh.. that's isn't necessary Your Highness."

"No, no. I insist. We can't have you being sad and lonely all the time, now can we?" I ask her rhetorically. Maybe I can get Jenna a boyfriend for christmas, or at least a date. That is if she celebrates Christmas. I've actually never asked, come to think of it. Ah well. That'll be a problem for later on, if I do decide to get her a gift.

Jenna looks unsure of what she should answer, "I suppose not."

I clap my hands together, "Then it's settled. I'm sure one of the guards will be much better then Nathaniel." I state, sitting back down.

Jenna nods slowly and smiles, though it does look forced, "Of course." Oh come on. I'm trying to get her a date here and all she's doing is being negative? You really can never win with some people. It's impossible to please her.

It's not as if I actually have anything against her and Natahniel being together, I remind myself quietly. I have no feelings for him. I'm just trying to look out for Jenna, and I think she deserves someone who can love her. That is why I'm trying to set her up with someone else? Isn't it?

Of course it is.

This is just silly talk. I wouldn't care if Nathaniuel decided he wanted to leave my selection tomorrow, I'm just looking out for her. It's not like I'm jealous. I don't get jealous. I don't need to. If I want someone then there are very few people in the country, or even the world, who could compete with me. So I'll get Jenna a guard, someone who will want the best for her.

Aren't I just the best person ever?

By some miracle, both Divesh and Bas are on time to the foyer. Despite their similar hair and skin tones, they couldn't look more different.

Where Divesh is dressed in a pair of dark pants and a red sweater, Bas is wearing a pair of plain jeans with an equally expressionless white shirt. Bas is broader than Divesh, and far taller. Divesh is closer to my height, being around 5'5.

"Princess," Bas greets bowing, Divesh matching.

"Hey." I say, turning my ring around my finger. It wasn't an engagement ring, nothing even close, but I couldn't help thinking that in a few months it would be replaced by one. Not from either of these boys of course, probably one from either the Illéan or the British crown jewels. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Somehow I feel that right now, Henri's cousin wouldn't be too pleased at one of their family rings sitting on my finger.

"Is the show outdoors?" Divesh asks nervously, "I've never been to one of these before."

I giggle lightly, causing Divesh's face to flush, "Don't be silly. It's the middle of December."

"I just thought…" Divesh's voice trailed off. "I guess it is pretty chilly out. Never mind."

"Maybe if we were in Clermont it would be outside." I tell him, tapping his shoulder. "Don't worry though, it was kinda funny."

Divesh, if possible, flushes even darker, "Thank you..I guess."

Bas, looking at the note he had delivered to his room and evidently brought with him, remarks, "Ian Sommerhall. I heard of him when in one of my art history classes. Apparently, he's supposed to be revolutionary in terms of his design."

Revolutionary? God, who talks about fashion like that? "I don't know. His clothes are pretty cool. I wouldn't say revolutionary." I semi-agree, shrugging lightly. I've worn plenty of clothes designed by him, after all, that was how I got the invitation, but it didn't mean that I was in love with them. They were nice. Not my favorite, but nice.

Bas rubs the back of his neck somewhat subconsciously, "My professors loved his work."

"I've never heard of him." Divest volunteers quietly. "So I wouldn't know."

"Obviously," I respond. "Well, then, it seems only fair."

"What does?" Bas asks, looking confused.

I smile brightly, "Mr. Reddlyn-Monroe, we'll go to the fashion show and afterwards, Divesh can decide if the clothes are revolutionary."

Divesh looks alarmed, "Wait, I have to choose?"

I nod, not giving him any choice in the matter, "Yeah. Our impartial judge." He's not impartial, seeing as he came here to try and marry me, but that could only work in my favor. After all, who in their right mind would not let me win?

Bas doesn't seem to take that into account though. "Works for me," he agrees easily.

"I don't really know anything about fashion," Divesh hedges, still looking unsure of himself. "I have nothing to compare it to."

I flick my hand dismissively, "Please. You've seen plenty of clothes in your lifetime. I'm sure that you'll be able to figure out if it really is such a showstopper."

"I really don't think I will." Divesh protests.

"It's no big deal." Bas tells him, "Don't worry about it. It's not like you're making an editorial for a fashion magazine."

"Yeah. What he said," I echo. "Besides, it's an half an hour drive to the venue, you can spend that time reading about different types of clothes. That way you can understand all the reasons why the collection is far from revolutionary."

Divesh bites his lip, "I don't like this idea."

"Well, it's a good thing no one was asking you then." I say cheerfully. "Anyway, the guards are pulling the car up, I would start your reading now."

"What do I even search for?" Divesh asks.

Do I look like I have all the answers for everything in the universe? I have most of them sure, but not all. Who knew people were so helpless these days? Frankly, Divesh needs to man up and figure things out on his own. "I don't know." I answer, not bothering to hide my annoyance as much as I should.

Luckily for Divesh, Bas answers for him. "Clear Star published an editorial about the new collection compared to others from previous years. I also think they did one with some designers around his level. You should start there."

Divesh nods quickly, "What are they called?"

Bas shrugs "I actually don't really remember, just search up the magazine and Ian Sommerhall. That should bring everything up for you."

"Right." Divesh glances uncertainly at his phone, "I promise to become as well-versed in the world of fashion as I can in the next 30 minutes," he promises, looking at me. I find my cheeks heating up a little. I know I'm sometimes rude to my selected, but Divesh isn't too bad. He's actually kinda sweet, and nice, and the sweater he's wearing is complimenting his eyes….

Ack. Carrie, stop it!

Now is not the time to be thinking about how handsome my dates look. I already kissed Tex a few days ago, and that was wrong. I know it was. I shouldn't have done that.

But I was upset that day. I was angry at my mom for forcing me to go to dinner with him, I was annoyed at Lindsay for prying into my life, and I was sad that Henri had been avoiding me. So I kissed him. Today though, I had no such excuses to justify what I did, even in my head.

I'm going to be the Queen of Illéa, I think I can handle a date with two of my very hot suitors without feeling the need to impulsively make out with them. Do you know how many of the leaders of different countries are surprisingly attractive? It's a life skill I'm going to need.

"Don't get a headache," Bas advises, "You know, from reading in a car."

Divesh merely shrugs, "I'll be fine. After all, I need to learn about fashion if I'm supposed to be the judge for you guys. I don't want to mess it up."

Bas laughs, "Dude, we were kidding. You don't have to actually be a judge for us."

"Speak for yourself," I interject loudly, "I wasn't joking. I'm fully expecting Divesh to make the correct decision regarding the revolutionary-ness of Ian Sommerhall's new collection. No pressure though," I add as an afterthought.

"No pressure," Diuvesh repeats mostly to himself, "I'll try Princess. I don't know how good a fashion expert I can be, but I'll try."

I smile broadly, "Perfect. Now, then, shall we head to the limo?"

Bas and Divesh nod, walking out behind me.

"No matter how many times I ride in this I never get sick of it," Divesh says.

I look at him, "Believe me, neither do I."

Divesh and Bas both chuckle goodnaturedly in response, following after me into the large car. Divesh sits to my right and Bas in front of me. Maybe life isn't too bad. I'm going to a fashion show with two very handsome men whose sole goal is to impress me. Not to mention that both Divesh and Bas still both seem to be in the phase where they're too scared to cross me, meaning I'm going to be in for a very pleasant day.

Yeah, I think today is going to be a good day.

As I expected, the fashion show was merely mediocre. The clothes were nice, and a few of them I was considering "buying" or, more accurately, mentioning to someone how much I liked those pieces and having them show up to the palace in a gift wrapped box topped with a shiny bow the next day. There wasn't anything groundbreaking about them though, it wasn't like they were made out of a new material that has zero waste or anything like that.

Bas seems to enjoy the fashion show far more than I do, and Divesh, though he tries to pay attention, seems to get bored about 10 minutes in. I can't fault him. I didn't think he was going to enjoy it much. I picked him because I figured he would be nice company.

Afterwards, gift bags are shoved into our hands as we make our way to the after party.

"Do you want mine?" Divesh asks me, peering into the shiny white bag. "I don't think I'm going to use..whatever this is," he says, holding up a silky wrap. "Is it a scarf?"

"No," I say, holding back laughter.

"Oh. What is it then?"

"It's a wrap." I tell him. "You know, you put it around your shoulders?"

Divesh looks at it again, "Huh."

"Here, I'll switch with you," Bas says, passing Divesh a dark comb with the designer's insignia in it.

"Oh, I don't need that." Divesh protests, "You don't have to give me anything for the uh, wrap. Seriously, I don't even know how to use this."

Bas shrugs "They messed up my bag. I have 2 of them in here. Take it," he insists.

Divesh agrees, passing him the wrap and taking the comb in return. "Here, you can have whatever it is that's left in here," DIvesh tells me, pressing the bag into my hand.

I smile happily, I do like getting presents and the gift bags at fashion shows are always fun. "Thanks. That's really nice of you."

Divesh chuckles nervously, "No problem. Believe me, it really wasn't a problem. I don't even know what half the things in here are used for."

"Alright then." I say, "Bas, what are you going to use the wrap for? No offense, but I don't think it would fit on you."

"None taken. I was going to use it to practice a sewing pattern I saw. I think it might be a cool thing to learn on." Bas tells me, placing the wad of material back in the bag.

"I wouldn't let the designer overhear what you're planning on using his creation for."

Divesh seems to have a different line of thought though, "You know how to sew?" he asks.

Bas nods proudly, "Yeah. I learned when I was much younger."

"That's so cool. I can't do anything like it, but, I guess I've never tried," he admits shakily.

"Me either." I pipe up. I never had a reason to learn how to sew. If I wanted clothes that I couldn't find in the store I could hire a seamstress or even have one of the maids make me whatever it is that I wanted it. I didn't need to actually do the nitty-gritty of what goes into custom making dresses, not when I could hire someone to do it for me. They say money might not solve all your problems but it certainly solved this one.

"It's not that difficult," Bas assures us. "I could show you if you want."

"I'm okay," I tell him, wrinkling my nose slightly. I don't have any reason to learn how to sew and I certainly didn't want to. It seems so...pedestrian.

Divesh seems to disagree, "If it's not a problem for you, it would be cool to learn how. At least I could tell my family I learned something during this whole...thing."

"Did you just call my selection a thing?" I ask, teasing him lightly.

"Yeah. It took a while to explain to my parents when it actually is. We don't have anything like this in England. I told them it was like the Matchleorette. They sorta understood what I meant after that." Divesh explains, tapping his hand against his leg.

"Well, as you probably guessed, my parents knew what it was." Bas says, laughing. Obviously his parents would know what the selection is, both of them having been in the selection for my uncle. To be fair though, I suppose that they defeated the purpose of the selection when they decided to go together.

"Hey Bas, can I ask you something?" Of course I could. He's not going to deny me.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Were your parents together during the selection?" I ask, finally voicing the thought that's been bothering me since the start.

"Uh...no. One of them wanted to marry your uncle, the other, well, I don't really know what she wanted." Bas says, while Divesh watches curiously, "Is a fashion show venue really the best place to be talking about this?"

Probably not, but I had only asked him about it here, and in front of Divesh, so that he wouldn't be able to lie about it or make up some excuse to leave. At least my strategy worked, even if Bas doesn't look particularly enthusiastic about having to answer with tons of reporters standing behind him. He does answer me though, not that he exactly has a choice in the matter seeing as I'm the Crown Princess and despite his parents fame, well, it's still incomparable to mine

"Eh. I guess not. Never mind then." I say, smiling brightly, as I know there are plenty of cameras clicking behind us.

"It's cool that your parents were both in the selection," Divesh mumbles to Bas, "Also, that they got you into this one."

"Thanks," Bas responds.

I look up at Divesh, "How do you know about that?"

"Oh...um, Bas told us a few days ago. I didn't realize that I wasn't supposed to bring it up. I'm sorry," Divesh apologizes hurriedly.

I shrug, "I don't really care one way or another. You all signed a contract."

Bas laughs slightly, "We certainly did. A ridiculously long one at that."

"I prefer the term through. Anyway, Divesh, so you saw the clothes, now do you think they were revolutionary or not?" I ask, putting Divesh on the spot, where he's quite clearly uncomfortable.

"Well. The clothes were very nice. I'm not sure what makes clothes revolutionary, but I guess this might not have qualified. I don't really know. They were cool." Divesh stammers out, obviously not wanting to come down on any particular side.

"So we call it a draw?" Bas asks me.

"Never" I turn to Divesha again, "Come on. Pick a side and stick to it."

"Okay…" Divesh says quietly, "I guess they weren't exactly revolutionary. I'm sorry," He says to Bas who looks surprisingly cool with it.

"Nah it's fine. I just wouldn't say that around the designer." Bas assures him.

I resist the urge to cheer that I won. That might not go over very well. I also have to squash down the little part of me that wants to say I-told-you-so. Oh well. I can celebrate on the inside I guess. Though that's not nearly as fun as celebrating on the outside.

"See Bas," I tell him, compromising with himself, "What does this prove?"

"I'm not sure, Your Highness." Bas replies evenly.

"That I'm always right," I sing-song. Bas smiles good-naturedly, but Divesh seems to be thinking about something else.

"The designer?"

Almost as if on cue, a loud voice rings out around the tent, "Is that Sebastian Reddlyn-Monroe, I see," the voice calls out, causing me, Divesh, and half of the room to look over at the man while Bas ducks his head in embarrassment.

"That's me," Bas says, raising a hand.

Ian Sommerhall himself comes over to our little group, holding a flute of champagne in one hand, the other left for handshakes. He's rather tall with slicked back black hair. His pinstripe tuxedo is impeccable, a gold pin stuck to the lapel for dramatic flair.

"Now, that's a face I never thought I'd see again," Ian continues, clapping Bas on the back. "Certainly not in Angeles that is. You couldn't believe my surprise when I heard your name called for the selection. I was watching the television and suddenly I looked up -and it's the boy from Waverly Institute of Art. I was shocked, shocked I tell you." Ian continues his story.

Not to be self-centered, but when is he going to realize that not only is his little protégée standing there, but so am I. And I must carry more importance to this man that Bas.

"Really?" Bas asks, "I didn't think you would even remember me,"

"Silly talk. How could I not remember you? I said to my husband last year, after your divorce paper dress- I said that boy is going places, and here you are!" Ian states.

"Here I am," Bas repeats, "You really thought my project was that good?"

"It was beyond good. Reminded me of a young Tabitha Dowling, it did. Oh, and who are your little friends here," finally Ian turns to me, "Your Highness, such an honor to have you here, and, remind me of your name?" He asks towards Divesh who goes red in the face.

"Divesh Agarwal," he supplies. "Your show was really great. It was the first one I've been to."

Ian wags his finger up and down, "Divesh...that's right. You're the one from Britain. Any interest in fashion for you?"

Divesh pauses for a moment, picking his words carefully, "Not so far."

"You'll learn. I'll have one of my assistants send you a package from this season's collection."

"Thank you, Sir. That's..wow." Divesh replies, looking equal parts star-struck and confused. I got the feeling that despite his blatant lack of interest in the world of fashion, he was still happy to have the opportunity for some celebrity designer to offer his clothes from the new collection.

"No problem." WIth pleasantries out of the way, Ian turns back to Bas. "Anyway, I couldn't have been more happy when I heard that the Princess had chosen to take you to the show. Of course I was hoping so when I sent the extra tickets, but I couldn't be sure. This was a great surprise when I saw your name on the list. Tell me, what did you think of the collection?"

"It was one of my favorites so far. I have to say, the dark blue pants that one of the models wore were really neat. You know, the ones with the gold around the hems."

Ian nods, "Those were one of my favorites."

If there's one thing I don't like in the world, it's being left out of conversations. Divesh is nodding his head from the other side, not saying anything. I tap him on the shoulder instead, nodding my head towards the refreshments table. Divesh picks up my clue and we set off. zo be frank, I don't even think Ian notices, he's too absorbed catching up with Bas.

"Do you want champagne?" Divesh asks, taking a flute for himself.

"Please," I say, as he hands me one. "I swear, if I have to listen to Ian tell another story about Bas I think I'm going to scream."

Divesh shrugs, taking a sip of his rink, "He seems nice enough."

I roll my eyes, "Nice enough? It's a lovefest out there."

"Yeah...I guess. I didn't know that Bas and the designer knew each other." Divesh states, changing the subject. He clearly didn't like where this one was heading.

"Neither did I. Honestly, I just brought you guys because I thought you liked fashion," I lie through my teeth. "I guess I was wrong about you."

Divesh shrugs, "I don't mind. It was still fun, even if I didn't know what rose face washing serum is."

"You don't need to know. Those products do basically nothing." I tell him, waving my hand, "There are some that work, but not those."

"You seem to know a lot about these things," Divesh says.

"You try having to live in a palace for 21 years. I bet you'd know a lot about cosmetic products too." It's true. I get my makeup done every single day, and over the years, I learned which products work and which products people are getting paid to promote because they are literally just flavored water. I guess I've become quite a makeup and skincare product connoisseur over the years.

"Probably," Divehs agrees easily. He glances towards Bas, who is looking over at us. "We should probably go back. I feel bad."

"What do you mean, you feel bad?" I ask, remaining planted in my spot.

"He looks tired." DIvesh notes, "Mr. Sommerhall is probably talking circles around him."

"How is that our problem?" I challenge.

Divesh pauses for a moment, looking unsure of himself. "I guess it's not."

"Right then. Now, let's see what else is in these gift bags." I say, pushing away the tissue paper while Divesh watches with a polite interest. I get the feeling that he doesn't care what's in the bag nor does he understand what the things are, but I appreciate him taking the effort to pretend that he does.

I'm barely allowed a few minutes alone (with the exception of Jenna) in my room before my parents come barging in. They're still dressed in their outfits from the gala, Mom in a dark green dress and Dad in a suit with a matching green tie.

"How was the show?" Dad asks me.

"It was fine." I look up at him "I would have enjoyed it more if I went by myself."

Mom waves her hand dismissively, "Oh come now. You're in the middle of a selection. How would it look if you went to a fashion show by yourself?"

"Like I was enjoying myself?"

Mom winces slightly, "Not exactly darling. I did what I had to do."

I ignore her, turning to Dad. "And you allowed her to do this?"

"I didn't know," he says, holding up his hands. "Your mother didn't tell me till halfway through the day."

"Because I know you would have disagreed." Mom states, not looking at all upset at the fact. "Anyway, did you get a gift bag for me? I always like the samples that they put in."

"No," I start, "With having to juggle 2 dates to the show, getting you an extra gift bag completely slipped my mind." I state sarcastically. Did she really think I was going to bother to get her one after the stunt she pulled?

"Ah. Then why do you have an extra bag?" Mom asks, pointing to the corner where I had placed the bags, assuming Jenna would take care of them later.

"Divesh gave me his. It was very nice of him."

"Divesh...that was the one who you went to the linens closet with?" Mom asks, stressing those 2 words.

I look at her, "Yes. He was the one, and I told you already, we didn't do anything."

"I'm not saying that you did," Mom says. I notice that Dad seems to have gotten very uncomfortable in this discussion. "I just find it an odd place to take someone on a date."

"Yess, well, I never asked where you took your selected on dates, now did I?"

"I don't particularly care what you do or don't do with your selected," Mom continues, fully ignoring me, "I'm just stating the obvious."

"Gee thanks, Mom."

"Have you decided what you want for Christmas yet?" Dad asks, changing the subject quickly.

"No, not yet." I tell him. "I'll send you my list tomorrow."

Every year for Christmas I make an itemized list of presents for my parents, including the links of where to buy the items and photographs so they know what they look like. My cousins might have mocked me for being too strict with my lists, but I didn't care. That was the way I ensured that I got everything that I wanted for Christmas.

Santa can't fault me for that now can he?

Mom sighs. She's never enjoyed getting my lists sent to her, "Send it to my personal email, okay?" She says begrudgingly, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I will. I always do." I remind her.

"Lovely. Are you coming to dinner?"

"Yeah, I guess. What are we having?" I ask Dad, as he's the one that approves the palace menu every month.

"Grilled mushroom sandwiches," Dad tells me, patting my head.

I stand up, pushing both of them towards the door. "Great. Now, please leave." I say, not moving till the door closes behind them.

With that I collapse back on my bed, wanting more than anything to go to sleep.

A/N: So, as of writing this A/N I was planning to post this on the Saturday after Christmas. I don't know if I did that or not. So, me of the future either wishes you a merry Christmas or hopes you had a merry Christmas. Either one works! I hope you all had a great day, and I forgot to say it in the last chapter but we actually hit 100k with the last chapter, so that's really exciting. Yayyy. See you on Monday with a new chapter!