CHAPTER 27

Friday, the 3rd of January

Princess Carolynn Schreave

"Mom, I thought about it." I start, clutching a piece of paper in my left hand.

"Thought about what?" She asks, only half paying attention. It's Friday, meaning that the weekly memos have to be sent out to the Governor of each province, or more aptly, their overworked assistant, before noon. I had already finished typing out the ones for the most northern provinces, but Mom still had to read over and approve all of them before they could be emailed to whatever poor soul has their email address listed as the recipient.

"About the selection."

"The selection? What about it? You're not planning on quitting are you?" she asks, looking alarmed.

I have to refrain from rolling my eyes at her unfair, though probably not entirely baseless assumption. Sure, I probably would have called it quits if it was anything else in life, but even I wasn't self-centered enough to do it on this large of a scale. Forget the however many boys were at the palace (I had lost track a few weeks ago and hadn't bothered counting again), but there was a country waiting for me to get married. If they want a show, I'll give them one.

"No, do you really think that low of me?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that."

I shake my head, "Fine. Well, I wanted you to look at this," I say, shoving the now-creased paper I had been holding at my mother. She takes it gently, wrinkling her nose at the paper's ragged appearance. I didn't know where the folders were kept, and as per line 13, I was going to try and be more self-sufficient. Which meant creased paper.

"So?" I ask impatiently.

"...Did you write this in highlighter?"

"That's so not the point," I huff, trying to resist the urge to stop my foot. Fine, maybe a highlighter was the only thing I found but I at least was trying here. Mom could try to appreciate that.

"It's very hard to read."

"No it's not," I insist.

"What does this say?" Mom asks, waving me over.

I can't take this anymore, "Give me that," I finally say, "I'll read it to you."

"That's not necessary," Mom says, holding the paper at arms length away from her face as she reads. I read it over too, pointless since I wrote it, but is it really wrong to enjoy your past brilliance? I think not.

Carolynn Schreave's New Year's Resolutions!

I will be a kinder person.

I will be polite to people who I don't like.

I will take an active role in my selection.

I will treat the selected with respect.

I will attempt to like one of them (No promises here!)

I will go on more dates with them without having to be forced, bribed, and/or manipulated

I will be nicer when I eliminate them.

I will try to care about their feelings (Again, no promises!)

I will be nicer to Garnet.

I won't blackmail Garnet by threatening to tell his parents all the ways he cheats on tests.

I will stop procrastinating work.

I will stop making fun of Jem Hensley (The financial analyst) when he talks about anything because he has such a boring voice and looks like he belongs six feet under

I will be more self-sufficient.

I will stop complaining about Jenna

I will turn on the shower myself.

"What do you think?" I ask, turning to Mom.

"Number 10 is very...interesting," she says looking over the paper again. "And I think you missed the part where you make a resolution to be nicer to me."

"Why would I put that in? I'm already nice to you." I point out.

"Sure. Let's go with that." Mom agrees, raising her eyebrows. "You know Jem Hensley graduated from the top university in Illéa with a 99.7 average right?"

"Yeah, but he also probably graduated back in the stone ages. Tell me he doesn't look dead inside?"

"I think he's a very nice man. He always has his work done before the deadline which is more than you can say for yourself."

"That's different. All he does is analyze things, he doesn't actually do work."

"All right," Mom says, clearly giving up. "I still need to read over a couple more memos, so is this all?"

"No I wanted your opinion on something," I pause, "Actually, no I didn't. I want to tell you something, and if you say no, I'm just going to do it anyway."

"How nice. What is it?"

"I want to eliminate some of the selected on the report tonight. I want to get it down to my elite before I have to start dating them again." I say, clasping my hands in front of my chest.

"This isn't like Thaddeus again, is it? Maybe you should think about it a bit more before doing whatever it is your planning on doing. For everyone's sake."

I know what Mom's getting at, that I should make sure I want to get rid of these guys instead of acting out of hurt feelings. But that was a different me. Now, I'm a better person. I'm the person who just wrote new year's resolutions. Yeah, having my boyfriend leave me completely threw off all my life plans, and means I probably need to reconsider what I was going to name my children, but I am totally and completely over it. I have other people here. Who I sort of like. I don't need Henri anyway, he was always so practical and realistic and…. Whatever. I'm over it. I'm not even going to think about him anymore. He is just a thing from last year, and now it's a new year, and it's time for new life plans, even if right now I can't think about anything further then my bridal shower without almost crying.

I have moved on.

I am fully done with him.

"Of course not. I'm just thinking rationally. And it would be better to narrow down the pool right? So I don't need to waste time talking to people who I don't like."

"What happened to 'Be polite to people I don't like'," Mom quotes, glancing down at the paper.

"I never said I was going to be rude to them. That goes against number 7, I just don't need to speak to them anymore. Besides, isn't it easier to be polite to people when you don't need to talk to them?"

"I really don't think it works like that," Mom says. "Well, if this is what you want, then I think it's a good idea to eliminate the other two boys tonight."

I look up, "two? There are only two left?" I ask, wincing inwardly.

Mom nods, "There were fourteen at Christmas, then with the two eliminated, that means twelve," she says, taking care to dance around the issue, probably unsure of how I would react. Not that it mattered, it wasn't like I cared anymore.

"That seems like a very small number," I say, mostly to myself. Maybe I shouldn't do this whole elimination tonight. Maybe it was a bad idea.

"Just because you're down to your elite doesn't mean you have to get engaged soon. Most selections take months."

"True. True. I don't need to get married right now."

Mom ignores me, "Just make sure to tell the ones who are leaving beforehand, and remind them that this is being filmed live and broadcast to the entire country."

I pout, "Do I have to?" That would make for some awkward conversation, and I hate awkward conversation, the pauses where no one says anything and everyone is trying to avoid eye contact. It's awful, and I was about to put myself through it not only willingly but by my own initiative.

"Yes. You're the one who said you want to treat your selected with respect. This is where it starts."

Right. Respect. Fun.

I frown, "Fine, but I don't like this idea.

"It was your idea."

"Whatever."

The report stage looks as it always does. The tiered seating for the selected, the three chairs to the right for my family, the podium that would be wheeled in and out on demand, and me. A princess who was currently questioning her life decisions.

I don't panic easily. I never do. Panic is an emotion for people who aren't good enough to put on a show and be confident, or at least force themselves to appear that way. It's for the weak. But, no matter what I think, there's no denying that the way my heart is beating clearly a sign of panic.

It's not about deciding who to eliminate - aside from a small list of people I liked, I just flipped a coin to decide on the others, it's more the feeling of permanence. It's one thing to be dating guys, but the elite -even if it does happen to be a made-up concept- feels like I threw myself into the deep end. This was my idea though, and I have to stick to it.

Also, I already told Micheal and Owen that they were eliminated and it would just be humiliating for them to have to stay any longer when they clearly knew they had lost. And, as now being a good person, I wasn't cruel enough to make them do that.

The report carries on as it usually does, boring announcements and some advisor speaking, most people probably would have stopped watching if it wasn't for Lindsay teasing a "special and life-changing announcement" at the end. I sort of wish she had used less grand terms. Maybe interesting and forward-thinking would have been better. I don't want my life to change, but it's not like I could have stopped it. And….my life is better now, of course it is. I'm happy, or at least on my way to being happy.

"Your Highness," Lindsay finally exclaims, the advisor who had been speaking barely off stage. She knows when an audience is getting bored. "Would you please join me up here for our special segment?" Her bright red dress catches the light, momentarily blinding me.

"Of course, believe me, I'm as excited as you are!"

"Yes, well, Your Highness, I barely know anything. Why don't you share it with us. I know I'm not the only person waiting."

"Lindsay, you probably have the entire country waiting, and who am I if not willing to please." I face the camera, beaming, "Illéa, I know you've been following along my journey, and thank you for that. Your support has been overwhelming. So, as it's a new year, I thought a proper kick off would be to announce my elite!"

The reactions in the room vary. Those who had bought tickets to the report look delighted at their apparent luck, the ten selected who I had not spoken to show a range of nervousness, and the two eliminated ones...they just look emotionless.

I pause for dramatic effect, "Micheal and Owen, I really enjoyed the time we spent together, but, this isn't my future," I say.

Owen nods, heading off stage, Micheal whispers, his voice never really goes above a whisper anyway "I wish you the best, that you'll find someone you love."

Lindsay claps her hands, this time waiting for Micheal and Owen to leave, "And there we have it! Our ten final gentlemen. What a lucky bunch of lads they are. Why don't we take the time to get to know a few of them?"

The camera pans over to the selected, and Lindsay, covering her microphone, says to me, "That means Tex is single now right?"

I just roll my eyes.

"Why don't we start with… Mr. Wilson," Lindsay asks rhetorically, completely skipping over Divesh in what's probably a fairly wise decision. Having been present for his last interview, I doubt he would do very well.

"I'm ready, Miss Holt," Nathaniel replies easily.

"Good, good. Nathaniel, what would you say your favorite date in the selection was so far?"

"Definitely when the Princess and I went to see the reindeer in the petting zoo, it's not even a competition between that and dodgeball," Nathaniel responds laughing at his own pun.

"I saw the photos from that date, it looked like a good time," Lindsay says, "Is there anything else you and her Highness have done that you would give an honorable mention at least?"

"It's hard to say, I've talked to the Princess lots of times, and I would rank all of those if I could." Nathaniel says, as I duck my head.

"Now, if I remember correctly you are one of the oldest left, correct?"

"Almost, Nishav had his birthday a few days ago, so he's the oldest, but I'm next." Nathaniel responds.

"Right, happy birthday Nishav," Lindsay says, not waiting for him to answer, "How do you feel that your experience was changed, given your age?"

"You make it sound like I'm in my sixties. I don't think it was changed at all, everyone left within a few years of one another. It's not that big a difference in ages anyway." Nathaniel says, clearly not giving Lindsay the answer she's looking for. Lindsay, being the professional, and the one on the palace payroll, moves on.

"Now, I must ask, which province would you say you like better, Angeles or Clermont?"

"The weather is definitely more predictable in Angeles, but I'm never going to betray my province like that. Clermont all the way."

"How nice. We love loyalty. It's a good sign. Moving on, Mr. Reddlyn-Monroe, might I say that is quite an interesting choice of tie for tonight."

"My little sister sent it to me," Bas explains. "I promised her I would wear it. I can't go back on my promise." I glance up at the monitor zooming in on his tie. The stripes weren't as I thought printed on, but must have been drawn on with a permanent marker. His little sister did an excellent job keeping them uniform, to her credit.

"That's just adorable. Has she sent you anything else in the mail?"

"A few things, but they were a bit too… out there for me to wear on television," Bas explains.

"Awwww, we don't want to hurt her feelings now do we.?" Lindsay coos, "Sebastian, why don't you apologize to her."

Bas turns a bright shade of red, "Harper, if you're watching this, no hard feelings."

"I say to make it up to her you show us what she sent you next week," Lindsay encourages.

"Why not? I don't think they'll be enough time to fit it all in the report though."

"We'll make it work." Lindsay decides, her smile exposing her teeth. Sebastian, thank you, this was a great time. Illéa, thank you for tuning in, and don't forget next week to watch the report. Until then, have a great week!"

By the time the cameras cut, the live audience files out, and the selected start to walk off the set, I'm exhausted.

"Bas," I say, catching his wrist as he goes to leave.

"Hm?" he asks, bobbing a quick bow. "Your Highness?"

"Can we do something?" I ask. Bas' company is nice, he's content to talk about whatever little thing, and he never really tries to pry farther into my life then I want. Along the same note, he doesn't mind talking about me. I don't think I can stomach someone asking me much about my life today, asking about the future, when I really wish it didn't have to happen.

"What about dinner?"

"Instead of dinner." I enunciate, looking at him.

It takes a second, but it finally clicks, "You mean like a date?"

I don't like that word coming from his mouth, but I guess it is a date, even if I don't want to be dating. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"Sure. What did you want to do?" Bas asks.

"There's a hot tub, it's supposed to be part of the gym, but I don't really like working out that much. So I just use it instead of a pool." I explain.

Bas nods, "yeah. Okay."

I actually smile for the first time so far today, "I'll meet you there in ten minutes?"

"I don't know where it is."

"Oh. Right. Never mind, I'll meet you at your room and I'll show you where it is. That way you'll now if you ever have to go again." I offer, trying to keep the discontent out of my voice.

"Great."

"Here it is," I say, pushing the door open. The hot tub is rather small, looking odd for the large room it occupies. Not to mention the lounge chairs positioned around it trying to give off the illusion that there was actually a pool instead of a smaller, less useful, hot tub.

"I didn't even know this was here." Bas says, looking around. "This room is so cool."

"It would have been cooler if it had a pool in it," I grumble.

"Oh. I mean, I guess. Why don't you have one, Your Highness?" Bas asks politely, as I was hoping he would.

"Because for some reason Mom doesn't think the taxpayers would be too happy with their money being funneled towards a pool." I pull my cover up over my head, still talking, "She's not wrong, I'll give her that, but still. This palace employs so many people, getting rid of one lawyer who no one needs anyway would be more than enough to pay for it."

"Isn't a lawyer more important than a pool?" Bas asks.

"Not when there are already ten of them. You can tell me I look pretty by the way," I say, following Bas' gaze.

"You look pretty," he answers quickly, trying to cover up the flush spreading on his cheeks.

"Thank you," I answer, taking pleasure in his compliment. Sure, I like them better when they come from someone else, but that's not an option anymore. I gently place a foot in the hot tub, wincing at the water, before quickly walking in and sitting on the sculpted bench. "Come sit." I say, patting the spot next to me.

Bas nods quickly, "You know, you could have told us that you were going to announce the elite today," Bas says, his tone light, once he's in the water.

"I didn't want to worry anyone. Besides, I decided to be nice and tell the people I was eliminating beforehand. That has to count for something" I offer up, slouching into the water.

"That's good. I would like to know, when you plan on dumping me publicilly." Bas says. "I don't want to embarrass you."

That's nice of him. "You seem very confident in yourself," I point out.

Bas thinks over his words for a second before realization dawns on his face, "Oh, I didn't...I just meant there are so many people, odds are more likely than not, it'll...you know." Bas explains.

"I guess. So," I say, changing gears quickly, "Are you happy to be an elite?"

"Someone would have to be an idiot not to be. It's weird to think about."

"Is it?" I ask, "You must have known it was pretty likely. I mean, you did decide to try and get me to rig the selection for you."

"Yeah," Bas says quietly, "I want to feel bad about that, but it's hard to. It's hard when I love being here. It was rude to every other guy in Waverly."

"See, that's where you and I differ. I see it as improving your odds," I tell him. That was part of the reason why I hadn't protested. Of course, the whole thing was a sham so at first it didn't matter. If that's what he wanted I didn't care enough, but there was something about a guy who I've spoken to maybe a total of three times in my life beforehand asking to be in that I just had to respect.

"Improving my odds...that's a nice way to put it." Bas says.

"Why did you do it anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

Bas shrugs, "I don't know. It wasn't because I was hopelessly in love with you or anything creepy like that," he says quickly.

I giggle, "Good to know."

"I just wanted to feel like I was doing something with my life, something not involved with my family,:" he says, shrugging.

I look at him incredulously, "This is possibly the most Involved with your family thing you could have chosen."

"I know, I know, but it just felt different. Like maybe I was making a name for myself. Being my own person?"

" I don't get it. I thought you loved your family."

"I do, of course I do, but they're involved with everything. When people talk about me, they think of Reddlyn-Monroe, not Sebstian. You know how I had the fashion exhibit at my university?" I nod, "I'm pretty sure they chose me just because of my last name. I'm happy I got to show off my work, but I want to do something myself. I saw the opportunity, and I guess, I took it, wrong as it may be." Bas explains, looking uncharacteristically morose.

Three days ago, I would have called it quits now. I wouldn't have wanted to hear about his personal struggles, even if I had asked. And now, I still have the urge to run away, and the next time I talk to Bas, to pretend that none of this ever happened. I can't do that though. I'm trying to be a better person, someone who at least doesn't appear to be as selfish and vain as I actually am. I'm going to need to talk to him, because I'm at least working on being a good person. And a good person wouldn't do this to someone who just spilled their life story.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that," I say, not sure what the right thing to do is.

"Well, never mind that," Bas says, causing me to smile in relief. "D you really think Lindsay is going to make me show everything my little sister sent me on national television."

I resist the urge to laugh at his naiveness. "Of course she is. I've never seen her so invested in something. She must think it'll make for some great ratings."

"Is that a good thing?" Bas asks, looking for reassurance.

"Only if you want people to like you, but I guess if that's not really your cup of tea-"

"No, no I want people to like me." Bas shakes his head, "This is going to be humiliating."

I splash him, "No it won't. Well maybe."

"Did you just splash me?" Bas asks, rubbing his eyes.

"No it must have been a ghost."

"I don't think it was a ghost," Bas says, then, taking me by surprise splashes me back. Instinctively I put my hands up, though it doesn't particularly work very well.

"Sebastian Reddlyn-Monroe, you just splashed me. I'm the Crown Princess of Illéa." I sputter trying to dry my eyes.

"No, I think it was a ghost."

A/N: Hey everyone, I know it's been a while, but my laptop came back from being repaired (For some reason the A and the V key stopped working which was weird, and the up arrow, but that key isn't that important anyway). So yeah, sorry about the long wait, but I am going to try and do more regular updates for a little while, we'll see how that goes.