CHAPTER 31

Princess Carolynn Schreave

Saturday, the 18th of January

It was a hellish week for me. The governor of Atlin had up and quit, taking half of his staff along with him. Mom had tasked me with finding an interim governor until another election could be held...which wasn't for another ten months. The woman I had finally procured, a previous council member of Atlin, seemed less than thrilled about her new position, but unlike the first five people I asked, she had actually agreed.

Needless to say, I was very happy when the weekend finally arrived and the newly inaugurated governor of Atlin became someone else's problem. So happy in fact, that I had planned an entire spa day for myself without any sullen former musicians or matchmaking queens.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans for me.

"It's the middle of January," I say, shifting from one foot to another.

"I know," Nathaniel answers, "But I don't think it will be that cold out on the boat. There's an inside cabin too."

"Nathaniel. It's January, and you want to go out on the ocean. I'm going to freeze to death, and you're going to have a murder charge."

"I used to go out all the time. I promise you it's not bad when you get used to it," Nathaniel responds, looking unbothered by my complaining.

"Yeah, in Carolina," I grumble. "My mom actually agreed to this?"

"Her Majesty thought it was a good idea when I asked her about it."

I scowl, "And when exactly did you ask her about it?" I distinctly remember telling my mother about my plans for a spa day, and her saying That would be a nice time...which looking back on now does sound remarkably vague.

"When I was talking to your father about my philanthropy project. She came in, looking for your father's opinion on something." Nathaniel explains.

"You took that opportunity to ask her about a date idea," I ask in disbelief. I know, mostly from first hand experiences, how scary Mom can be. The fact that Nathaniel even spoke to her, let alone laid out plans for a date seems like it should go against the laws of nature. But it's Natheniel. Effortlessly chill, always relaxed Nathaniel.

Nathaniel nods proudly, "Yeah. There were some security things she was worried about, but she told me she liked the initiative."

"What security measures?"

Nathaniel shrugs good-naturedly, "You drowning," he says bluntly.

"I can swim."

"I can see her point I guess," Nathaniel adds, "I mean, the heir to the throne dying really isn't that good for the country."

"You're right," I answer. After all, what would the poor country do without me? I'm the future Queen, and if I was some painter living in Waverly, I wouldn't want the fate of the throne left up to chance. I'm too important to die. Which begs the question of why my mom even agreed to this… "Is that all she said?"

"Pretty much. Oh, you have to wear a life jacket," Nathaniel snaps his fingers, the thought occurring to him.

"A life jacket?" I echo. I can't argue with that. "Fine. There aren't going to be any cameras on the boat, are there?" I ask, hoping that there wouldn't be any photos of my face squished by a neon yellow foam life jacket tomorrow morning. I have a reputation to uphold in Illéa. A reputation for being pretty. I don't need some half-crazy idea from Nathaniel ruining it for me.

"I don't know. I don't think so. There's not going to be room," Nathaniel answers earnestly.

"What do you mean there's not going to be room? Aren't we going to be using one of the yachts?"

"Yachts?" Nathaniel repeats, looking confused. "I didn't know there were any yachts."

My heart sinks. "What boat do you want to use then?"

"A sailboat. I looked at photos of it. It's one of the biggest sailboats I've ever seen. Twenty eight feet long with a lateen build and-"

I cut off his rambling, "Twenty eight feet? That's tiny." I state. "Are you sure you don't want to go on a nicer boat?"

"Nah, you'll like this. I promise. Sailing is fun."

"You want me to sail the boat? I don't think that's a good idea."

"I can help," Nathaniel answers.

"Aren't there professional sailors?" I ask. I don't want my date spent tugging on heavy ropes. If I'm already sacrificing my day at the spa for this ridiculous excuse of a date and being forced to sit on a boat smaller than most cars, I'm going to sit inside where it's heated. I don't have any interest in sailing, and I don't feel like being cold and wet today.

"Yeah, one of them is coming on the boat today, just in case. But we won't need them."

I manage a weak smile, "Yay. I guess I should go get ready."

"Bring a coat," Nathaniel notes. "A heavy one, not the little ones you usually use."

"I thought you said it wasn't going to be that cold?" I protest, running a hand over my arm, where I can already feel goosebumps at the mere thought of how cold I'm going to be on that rickety little sailboat in the ocean. I should probably get Jenna to have the kitchens me a thermos of hot tea so at least my hands won't go numb,

"It's not."

"You're really contradicting yourself here," I point out.

"Carrie, it's going to be fine." Nathaniel assures me. "If you don't like it we can do whatever you want after."

Hmmm. Somehow I don't think that Nathaniel is picturing a day at the spa. Not that I would make him do that. We could go out to lunch in a place that actually has a working heat system.

"Sure," I say, ducking my head. There's always tomorrow for the spa. "What time should I meet you?"

"Half an hour?" he asks, "I can meet you here."

"Here. Okay. perfect. Perfectly perfect." I agree, only partly bitter.

"What was that?" I demand, standing in the center of my parents' room, where Mom is flipping through a book on the couch.

"You're going to have to elaborate," Mom answers. "I like that dress by the way. Is it the one that the designer sent you, the one who's fashion show you went to?"

"Yeah, isn't it nice?" I ask, "I love the- wait. No. I'm not falling for that again. Why could you possibly encourage Nathaniel to take me out on a date on a sailboat? You know I hate being cold."

"Oh? Is that what this is about? I thought you would be more upset about that little shy one going with you to the Artists Trust."

"Little shy one? You mean Divesh?" I ask.

"I think that was his name, yes."

"Mom, Nathaniel I can believe, but there is absolutely no way that Divesh came up with that idea all by himself let alone ask you if he can take me." I point out, crossing my arms. Of course she had to choose now to play matchmaker.

"No, he didn't. I asked him if he wanted to go, and he said yes. He seemed very excited." Mom interjects.

"Yeah, he's Divesh. He would agree to bury his head in the sand if you asked him. He's terrified of you."

"Did you get that too?" Mom asks, raising an eyebrow. "He seems very nervous."

"He's trying," I answer. "I think it's a pretty big change for him to be in the palace now."

"I tried to talk to him earlier. He could barely look me in the eye, that poor boy," Mom muses, pressing her lips together.

"He's definitely scared of you," I tell Mom. "I wouldn't take that as a compliment though. He's scared of everyone."

"Shame, I thought I was special," Mom shakes her head, frowning. "That's really a blow to my confidence."

"Oh, so you think that finding out a mil...med student isn't scared of you is worse than having to deal with five people turning down the offer to be the interim governor of Atlin?"

"When you're in this job as long as I've been, perceptions of fear are different." Mom assures me. "Nishav I like though. He has more confidence then people give him credit for. What do you think Car?" She asks, clearly trying to push her setting-me-up-with-Nishav agenda a little farther.

"He's nice, yeah. If you're looking for someone to be scared of you, I wouldn't pick him as the one."

"It's a good thing you're not looking for that then. Oh, do you want anything to drink? I feel like some champagne would be nice. It's so great that you're not underage anymore."

"Gee thanks...wait no, Whatever. We're not talking about that right now. We're talking about how you approved Nathaniel's idea to take me out on a boat in the middle of winter. What if I freeze to death? Forget about how much everyone will miss me, what will you do for the heir to the throne? Did you even think of that?" I demand, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"I did, actually." Mom answers me. "A guard will accompany you in case you happen to fall in and your life jacket somehow defies the laws of physics and decides not to work."

"A life jacket. You have to be joking." If a guard is coming on the boat with me, there goes my plan of removing the life jacket the first chance I get. I'm sure Mom would have given him strict orders to make sure no matter what, the life jacket stays on.

"I'm being practical," Mom answers.

"I had plans today. You knew I had plans," I accuse, "I specifically told you about them."

"Carrie, dear, you'll have the rest of your life to go to the spa. How much longer do you think your selection will last? A month at the most? Wouldn't you rather do things that you'll never get the chance to do again?"

"Yeah, if they're indoors I would."

"You're going to thank me later for this."

"I really don't think I am," I answer. "A sailboat! What, were the yachts not working this week?"

"No, they're working, but you've been on those plenty of times."

"Yeah, and I actually like going on them. They have heating, and cooling, and seats with physical cushions on them."

"Carolynn, the cold is not going to kill you. It's Angeles. We both know it's going to be above freezing."

"That's not helping."

"You know, a lot of people would be delighted to have the chance to even go on a boat," Mom adds.

"Yeah, because they've never been on an actual boat before and thing that think floating death trap actually passes for one." I answer, biting my lip. That was pretty rude of me. "No offense towards the boat."

"Have you seen the boat?" Mom asks, picking up her phone, "I don't think it's horrible," she says, handing me the phone. The display shows a photo of the boat that I guess I'm going on today. It's not...bad. I thought it would be a lot worse. It doesn't look like it's going to sink. The inside cabin is tiny...but at least it looks like there's seating inside. Maybe I won't actually die today.

"It...might not be a death trap," I concede handing the phone back to her.

"Good, so no more complaining about this, right?" Mom asks.

"I never agreed to that. I still don't think this is a good idea." I answer.

"Well, it's quite a shame that you don't have a choice now, isn't it," Mom answers cheerfully. She pats my back, walking me towards the door, "Go get ready. If you do drown I'll write a speech for your funeral."

"Make sure all my stuff goes to Aggie, not Garnet." I say, leaving before Mom can take the final word away from me.

The boat looks better in person then it did in the photo, and I didn't even hate how it looked in the photograph. I feel momentarily bad for complaining about the boat to both Mom and Nathaniel, until the guard stationed next to me handed me the foam life vest. The foam life vest with peeling paint, a faded logo, and worst of all, covered in salt water, which luckily didn't seep through the lining of my jacket.

You would think the palace would have a stock of life jackets on hand, but as this boat technically wasn't property of the crown, I was stuck using life jackets provided by the marina. Which meant that other people had used this before. Which was absolutely disgusting.

"Isn't it nice?" Nathaniel asks, gazing at the boat wistfully.

I shrug, wrinkling my nose at the sensation of the life jacket moving with me. "It's a boat. It's okay looking."

Nathaniel laughs a little, "It's great. If I had a boat like this I wouldn't know what I would do."

"Sail it?" I offer.

"Probably," Nathaniel clears his throat, "Here let me help you on," he says, offering me a hand so I can jump on the moving boat.

Nathaniel follows me onto the boat, the guard assigned to us coming after him, and the hired sailor bringing up the rear.

"I'm going to go inside," I say, jerking my thumb towards the inside cabin.

"Don't you want to watch it leave the marina?" Nathaniel asks, toying with the heavy rope tying one of the sails down.

I really don't want to. I want to go sit inside, maybe with Nathaniel next to me, and count down the minutes I have to spend on this boat. Nathaniel looks so happy though, to finally be back on a boat, and I don't need to ruin that for him.

"Oh, we're doing that now?" I ask, giving a fake laugh. "Sure, why not."

Nathaniel handles getting the boat out of the harbor himself. I guess if there was something I really loved, I would want to do it myself to, rather than have someone else handle it for me. Do I have anything like that?

Not really, no.

There was nothing I was so excited about that I would want a hand in every aspect of it, rather than be relieved there's someone to help me so I can do less of the work.

"You must have a lot of practice," I note, as Nathaniel comes to stand next to me after putting the boat out to sea. "That was quicker than I thought."

"I've been doing this pretty much all my life," he says.

"Do you have a boat?" It would make sense if he did, or at least someone in his family did. It's pretty hard to have sailed a boat your entire life if you didn't own one. Besides, Nathaniel is a 3. It's not like he would not be able to afford one.

"Sort of," he answers me. "It's from a family friend. I had my own boat for a while. I got it when I graduated high school, but it sank a few years ago."

I look up at him, alarmed, "Boats still sink? I thought that was something from pirate movies."

Nathaniel clears his throat, "Yeah. It got caught in a storm pretty far out to sea. It was a sailboat anyway, most engine powered boats are physically incapable of sinking."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Were you on the boat when it sunk?"

"No, that would have been...an experience. Other people were using it," he explains vaguely.

"Are they okay?"

"They're….yeah, they're fine." Nathaniel tells me, "The coast guard picked them up, that's what I heard about it."

"That's good. Nice to know the military is doing their job."

"You know, Your Highness," Nathaniel says, obviously trying to change the subject, "I feel like I don't know a lot about you. What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?" I repeat, stunned by the sudden shift. "I like gold I guess. I don't know, I've never really thought about it."

"Really? You haven't?"

I shake my head, "No one's ever asked me," I admit. Over the course of the selection, I can recall at least three instanced where I asked people their favorite colors, but not once had any of them turned the question back to me and asked what my favorite color was.

"So is it really gold or did you just say that?" Nathaniel asks.

"It's probably not gold. I need to think more about it. I'll tell you when we finish."

"Okay," Nathaniel agrees, looking amused. "Do you have a favorite food?"

"I actually do. I like soup, french onion soup. It's good. The chefs at the palace make great french onion soup." I tell him. "Have you tried it?"

"I don't think so. I can't remember having it," Nathaniel says.

"Yeah, that makes sense. They don't cook it that much, especially when there are people visiting. Not really fair to lactose-intolerant people." I scrunch my nose in thought, "Not that I think there are any lactose-intolerant people still in the selection."

Nathaniel shrugs, "I don't know. Bas is allergic to soy I think.

"Oh. I never heard about that. Well, never mind. I don't want to talk about other guys on our date," I say, placing a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "Let's go inside, I'm cold."

"After you, milady," Nathaniel says, holding the door open or me.

The singular bench in the cabin is warmer than I expected, and if it wasn't for the guard who would almost certainly stop me standing two feet away from me, I would even remove my jacket. I could tell Nathaniel is considering putting his arm around me, probably stopping out of fear of how I would react.

"You can put your arm around me, you know," I say, turning to face him.

"Right, okay," Nathaniel agrees. I lean my head against his shoulder. "Do you like the boat more than you thought you would?"

"It's certainly warmer than I thought it would be," I say, giggling.

"Warmer? That's something."

"No, in all seriousness, I don't hate it. I can see how someone would love it. I'm not sure it's for me, but I understand why you like it," I admit.

"I get that," Nathaniel says. "It's a hard thing to get into."

"Well, I can try, but I really don't think it's for me. Maybe in the summer, but not now. It's absolutely freezing out there." I state, crossing my arms, which is difficult considering the bulky life jacket on my frame.

"If I'm still here when it's summer, I'll take you out again," Nathaniel tells me, hopeful.

I'm about to say that if the selection is still going on in summer, I have bigger things to worry about, when I realize he's not speaking about the selection. He's talking about a future where he and I are engaged, possibly married if the wedding planner works fast enough.

It's not wrong of him to think that. There are five guys left in my selection. Even if it was just randomized he would have a twenty percent chance of marrying me.

"We'll see about that," I finally say, pushing the concerning thoughts about my future out of my head.

The rest of the weekend passes smoothly, without much meddling from Mom, until Sunday night, when Lindsay, obviously influenced by her boss, the Queen of Illéa, decides to conduct interviews with the remaining selected, considering how close we are to the end. As if that isn't frightening at all.

Jenna had pinned a golden barrette into my hair, doing my makeup to match. And my dress... It was a ballgown. A literal ball gown. The one I had intended to wear to the New Years Eve ball before spending the night crying in my room. Not to sound vain, but I looked beautiful. For a good reason too, as finally I got to be part of these interviews too, rather than watching on from the sidelines.

"Alright, gentlemen," Lindsay says, clapping her hands. "We're going to be doing this in alphabetical order so Divesh you're first. Sebastian, you're last, and everyone else, I think you can figure it out."

Divesh fiddles with the cuff of his sweater, not looking up.

"Are you nervous?" I ask, standing next to him.

"Nervous? Yeah. Very nervous." Divesh says, giving me a weak chuckle.

"You'll be fine, just take a deep breath," I say.

"I don't know if I can do this," Divesh says suddenly. "Every time I have to speak on camera or someone's filming, I just freeze up. My heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest."

"Divesh," I repeat, "You'll be fine. People get used to speaking in public, and look on the bright side, it can't be as bad as your interview on your birthday."

"That...that was really bad," Divesh admits, looking down. "This is a lot of pressure."

"I know," I answer. That's all I have time to say before Lindsay comes over and starts talking at a mile a minute. If anything, that makes Divesh's nerves even worse, but, to his credit, before every answer he takes a deep breath. He gets through it, and when Lindsay announces that they don't have to do a retake, he looks almost like he could cry.

After Divesh's mediocre interview, Nathaniel's seems like the equivalent of an oscar acceptance speech. The award of best follow up interview to a nervous mess. Then goes Nyson, who Lindsay speaks to for maybe two minutes if we're rounding up.

"I don't think she likes me very much," Nyson says to me, as Lindsay goes to see if the producer of the report wants her to refilm any sections.

"Yeah, I don't think she does either," I agree, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing! I've been a perfect gentlemen. I have no idea why she wouldn't like me," he insists, looking upset.

"Maybe she doesn't like your haircut?" I offer.

"What's wrong with my haircut?"

"Nothing. At least, I don't mind it that much.." I lower my voice, "Just between you and me it looks a bit like the co-host of the news company that Lindsay used to work at. She hated him."

"Well, at least it's not personal," Nyson concedes, looking only slightly mollified. "Or maybe it's only personal when it comes to my hair."

"Maybe. It's not like anything bad is actually going to happen," I assure him. "At the end of the day, Lindsay is a professional, and she's going to act like one."

"So no sabotaging my interview?"

"It won't be apparent that she sabotaged your interview," I correct him, knowing that Lindsay isn't below that, as long as her producer approves it.

"Great. I'm doomed." Nyson complains. "The country is going to hate me."

"Better you than me," I answer. "It's not that big of a deal. Seriously, I'm sure it's going to be fine. I don't think you're that popular in the county to begin with." I had seen some recents polls of who everyone's favorite selected was, and Nyson was tied for last place with Divesh. Bas, unsurprisingly, was in first, given who his parents were and how open he was during interviews.

"They don't need to hate me more," Nyson adds. He clearly saw the same data as me, but he seemed more annoyed than disappointed by it.

"You could use a healthy amount of hatred. Never know when it's going to come in handy."

Nyson winces, "I know I'm not a doctor, but I don't think that's medically advisable."

"We can have a difference in opinion," I tell him, turning to Lindsay as she comes back. "So is the footage good?"

"Of course, Your Highness. Nyson, you're good." Lindsay says, barely giving Nyson a glance. She waits for him to go before plopping on the seat next to me. "I need your thoughts on something."

I tilt my head to the side at her breach of protocol. Not that Lindsay ever stuck to the cookie cutter version of palace protocol, but it still took me by surprise every time that it happened, considering that she was one of the few.

"What?"

"So you know that handsome guy you sent home?" Lindsay asks, "Thaddeus? So I messaged him yesterday and he answered me. I'm thinking about going out with him."

I frown, "Why would you do that?"

Lindsay laughs, "Have you seen the man? He's so hot. Why wouldn't I want to go out with him?"

"Yes, of course I've seen him. He was in my selection, and I eliminated him."

If Lindsay hears my irritation, she doesn't acknowledge it. "I don't get how you could eliminate him. He should go into modeling. He's wasting his time as a chemist."

"Please. You actually have to listen to instructions to be a model. That's something that Tex certainly couldn't do." I say, shaking my head at the memory of Tex blabbing about our kiss to the rest of my selected.

"I don't think I would listen to a word that comes out of his mouth. I would just stare at him all through dinner."

"That's not really the basis of a good relationship."

"Oh who cares. We'd definitely get a red carpet award for best-looking couple. He's a perfect ten and I'm practically an eleven. It would be a match made in heaven."

"He's really hot," I say, "I'll give you that, but the personality is not there."

"Is a personality really that important anyway?"

"You know what Lindsay," I finally say, "As your friend I think you should go out with him. Just know that he is a huge jerk, and prepare yourself for the inevitable blowup of your relationship. You'll be fine if you do that."

Lindsay grins, "I do love a good tragic love story."

I don't though. I prefer a good, old-fashioned happy ending

It's a bit worrying that she's the one primarily in charge of talking to my selected on camera, if I ever do want that happy ending.

A/N: Hello everyone. I hope you had a great weekend. I don't really have anything to say so I'll keep this brief I guess.