Merrick fidgeted with his suit jacket, hoping that the sweat patches underneath his armpits weren't noticeable.

Meet the Selected. Have a chat. That's all he needed to do.

Still, he grabbed the cuffs of his sleeves and pulled mercilessly with nerves. Maybe one would snap off, and his waiting staff would freak – putting off the task for another five minutes as he changed his shirt.

It was delaying the inevitable. He couldn't have a Selection and not meet the Selected. His future wife wasn't going to just spring into his mind without all of the dramatic tension.

Sweat slicked down his neck, and he pulled on his tight collar. To think, all the time he'd spent untangling his terribly messy blond hair would go to waste. The time vacuuming every speck of dust from the birch furniture of the Amendment Drawing Room, with its blue patterns and sea swirls. The time stitching every seam on his pinstripe suit, and grey waistcoat. The crystal chandelier brightened every pore on his face, and he knew it only illuminated how sticky his skin was.

The door threw itself open, nearly taking out the attending butler, Clancy.

But – not a Selected walked in. His sister. Philippa.

Her red hair had piled on top of her head, crowned with those blinding, jewelled tiaras she so adored. Her blue dress trailed the floor like a river twinkling in the moonlight, but her fiendish grin destroyed any sense of innocent beauty.

"You're sweating like a turkey on Thanksgiving."

He drew up his upper lip. "It's not funny." Swallowing his intimidation, he managed a small voice. "Are they waiting outside?"

"Just filing into the corridor now."

A bundle of nerves clotted at the base of his spine, and he ended up sitting straighter despite himself. They were in the corridor. A wall separated him and his future wife. A wall.

Pippa snorted, whisking her way over to him in twirls, with her dress ribboning out around her. "You know all you have to do is say hello, right?"

He stiffened. "I know that."

"So why are you panicking so much?"

He wrung his hands together. "When there are thirty-five potential wives out there, you do tend to become a little rattled." He snuck her a glare. "Not that you'd understand what a Selection is like."

She stuck out her left hand right in front of his face so fast he flinched, both actions that would be frowned upon if they were in public. A platinum band glittered from her ring finger, encrusted with three of the purest, starkest of diamonds, cut asscher. It seemed to harmonise with the chandelier, and for a moment, Merrick wondered which would capture sunlight better.

Quick as a whip, she snatched back her hand, gushing over the ring. "George does know how to impress me." She fanned herself. "Our wedding is going to be astronomical."

Lucky for her, like his elder sister Decadence, she found love with a foreign prince. Lucky for her, she didn't have to go through the Selection to find the future co-ruler of the country, and the duty passed to him. The youngest Schreave sibling.

Pippa continued, her eyes glossed over. "And our children…" She pointed a finger into the air knowingly. "We will have precisely one, so no sibling rivalry. No arguing. I will name her, I've decided, Alexandra. And she will be beautiful and kind. Just like me."

It was Merrick's turn to snort. "Right."

A knock. Clancy cracked open the door, and exchanged whispers, before he turned around. "They're ready for you, Your Highness."

Anxiety rocketed through him. "Oh god. What if I hate all of them? What if they all hate me?"

Pippa, instead, relinquished her wry smile for a genuine one, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The touch soothed him. "Don't worry about it, Merrick. You're gonna' adore them. It'll be like one big sleepover."

He blew out another hot breath. "But does it really have to be so… tense? Theatrical?"

She laughed, and it was whole and silly. "What's meeting potential suitors for your hand without some theatrics?"

He frowned. He could really do without any nonsense.

"As for them hating you…" That smug glint. "I can guarantee nothing."

Merrick pouted, which only set her off laughing again, even as she swaggered to exit. And when she was gone, her natural ease left with her, causing Merrick to become acutely aware of his damn armpits again. How was he going to manage when she moved to the United Kingdom Commonwealth to rule with her husband, only ever coming back to Illéa for business affairs and family trips? How could he stand the hallways without Pippa's whimsy laughter and fun?

Thank god, cameras weren't present. Merrick didn't think he could keep up the pretence around his Selected girls and the rest of Illéa.

"Erm," he choked out to Clancy, undoing his top button. Screw appearances. "Send the first one in please."

Clancy obliged, and the first girl in strode in meekly. Like Pippa's, her blonde hair formed a neat nest upon her head, littered with tiny white flowers, and a warmth had blossomed on her cheeks. Her peach nails clicked upon one another.

So she was nervous, too. That didn't make Merrick feel any better.

"Good morning!" he chirruped.

It was afternoon, croaked a small voice within him. He'd already failed, as astronomical as Pippa's planned wedding.

But the girl seemed to find this amusing, and she giggled. "It is morning in Australia, Your Highness," she said, almost breathlessly. She neared the white armchair opposite, but didn't sit down, and instead, curtsied low. "My name is Beatrice Jacobs."

Manners. Quickly, Merrick shot to stand, nearly tripping on the edge of the navy carpets, and bowed his head. "Oh, lovely to meet you, Lady Beatrice!" His voice was unusually high, and he pitched it down. "Please, take a seat," he said, which emitted from his throat as if he were a chronic drinker of brandy.

And so, began, several introductions like this. Merrick attempting, but inevitably forgetting, his manners, and making as much small talk as possible. He spoke of the weather, their careers and their provinces. He spoke of the Selection, and the palace, and Angeles. Beatrice spoke shyly of her family life. January Pickles tried to teach him how to dance – and failed miserably when he stepped on her toes – and Alanna van Cross impressed him with an extensive, albeit creepy, knowledge of his family tree.

In fact, the most theatrical it ever became was when one girl entered by tap-dancing – before face-planting into the floor and causing her nose to bleed. No doubt, she was off Merrick's list.

Still, by the twenty-fifth girl, he was already exhausted. So when an Indian girl, exquisite in a teal sari, strode in with her hair tossed over one shoulder, and her eyes glued more to the room than him, he was relieved that it didn't seem he had to try so hard.

Still, she curtsied, peeling the dress and heavy fabric from her floor. Her skin was a shade darker than olive, and it contrasted with the white furniture. "Sashi Bhattacharya, Your Highness. Some call me Batty, but they're wrong. I'm not crazy." Pause. "Which is what a crazy person would say, but I swear on my unicorn, I'm totally sane—"

"Please make yourself at home, Lady Sashi," he blurted, indicating the armchair opposite.

He cut her off. Another to add to his seemingly endless list of mistakes. He didn't even have the courage to mumble an apology.

Sashi didn't seem fazed, and took his offer to make herself at home to heart, flopping onto the armchair and sagging into the cushions. After a while, she said, "This is the comfiest armchair my butt has ever had the pleasure of sitting on."

Merrick couldn't resist a smile. It wasn't weather-related, which was a start, and at least Sashi seemed to have a sense of humour. "I'm glad. We like comfy armchairs at the palace." He placed a finger to his chin. "Actually, if you like that armchair, you should try the Women's Room. They have lovely chairs in there. I'm actually quite jealous."

Sashi sat up, eyes widening. "Oh my god. Yes. Aren't they great? I feel like I'm sitting on a ton of cotton candy." She settled again. "Hmm. Don't think it quite reaches this level of squishy, though."

Merrikc titled his head, happy to challenge her. "How about the Chateau Drawing Room? There's a sofa in there that my mother always steals. It must be legendary in terms of sitting quality."

She laughed – it was a giggle mixed with a snort. "I will definitely have to try it." Her eyes seemed to zero in on him, and she cocked an eyebrow. "Nervous?"

"What? Not at all," said some voice that was Merrick's, and yet not. Probably his prince training coming into practice.

A grin matched her eyebrow. "You could slide down the hallways with all that sweat."

It wasn't said unkindly – her amusement overran everything about her: posture, voice, glint of mischief in her chocolate-brown eyes. But, somehow, she still managed to look… relaxed. Opposite to Merrick.

He expelled a sigh. "Is it obvious?"

"Ohhhh yeah," she said. Then, she grinned. "Don't worry about being on your best behaviour, Your Highness. Most of us are nervous, too."

"You seem fine," said Merrick, his voice jumping up and down again. It wasn't even that risky of a question to warrant the rush of adrenaline he felt as the words left his mouth.

Sashi laughed. "Oh, well. My job as an events planner has taught me a lot of keeping cool under pressure."

A thought flickered in his mind. Imagine if Sashi planned your wedding to her. Merrick gulped it down, refocusing on the conversation.

She continued with an exasperated flash of her teeth. "The first girl that met you – Beatrice Jacobs, I think…? Yeah. She was hyperventilating outside. Poor thing."

Merrick's heart cracked. He'd done that to her…? Now a wash of shame covered the nerves.

"I mean, no lie, Your Highness," Sashi sat up. "You are the prince, and all. Flick of your hand, and you could have us all dismissed, or locked up, or banished. Even executed, if you really wanted."

Merrick's shoulders tensed, and his hands flew up in surrender. "O-Oh, I couldn't possibly have you executed! Goodness!"

That smirk. "Banished?"

"That… is within my jurisdiction, yes," Merrick rambled suddenly. "But I wouldn't want to banish any of you! Don't worry."

She visibly stifled her laugh, and gave a thumbs-up. "That's a relief. I'll let the rest of the girls know, then. Especially the ones who have yet to have the pleasure of your company."

"Wonderful," he said. Sweat still clammed his hands, but he stood and held out his hand to Sashi, anyway. "It's lovely to meet you."

She swept up into a stand and knocked her hand into his. Her palms were surprisingly sweaty, too. Perhaps not even the events planning could prepare her for an audience with the prince.

"Nice to meet you, too, Your Highness," she said, inclining her head. "Good luck with the rest of the Selected."

Sashi had character, he decided with fondness. It was surprising how much she had relaxed him, even if only for a moment. Her demeanour reminded him of Pippa, except with slightly more… chill. She would stay. For now.

"Thank you," he said. "I hope we can talk more soon."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement and sauntered out of the room.

Merrick sat down, ignoring the heat from every crevice of him. Clancy topped up his water, which he'd had to refill so many times from Merrick's attempts to cool down. Clipping his collar, he ushered for the next girl.

When the valet opened the door, the girl did not step inside – silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight. First, she pinched the edges of her unusual dress – with floaty grey top and skirt like a nighttime sea, and embellished with white jewels, but not like any dress he'd seen before – and curtsied deeply. She curtsied for so long that Merrick was about to ask her forward, but she rose, striding inside with her chin high.

As she neared, she began to recognise her features from the forms. It was clear she was New Asian, by her facial structure, her flat, small nose, and her eyes – nearly obsidian in colour. Her hair was a rich black, as if plucked from the deepest coalmines in the core of the earth, and falling down her in simple waves.

Pink lips pressed together, he met her gaze - intense, electrifying. Darkness seemed to seep from her, and she neared him like wraith coming to steal his soul.

His gut twisted in response. She was terrifyingly beautiful.

Utterly entranced, he knew his stupid brain forgot to blink until she stood by the armchair and said, "Good afternoon, Your Highness."

Even her voice was like steel, lethally cold, but somehow still with a soft, calming cadence. This Selected had managed to awaken a deep fear within him that he could not name. He ripped his gaze away, and shot to stand. Stupid Merrick, for staring. Stupid Merrick, for not standing when she walked into the room.

"G-Good morning— er, afternoon," he stumbled over his words, which nearly stuck to his tongue. "Please, take a seat, Lady…?"

She seated herself at the edge of the chair, her back erect, her hands placed on top of one another on her lap. As placid as a doll, and yet, as strong and sturdy as forged iron. "Kim Ji-Yu," she said, monotone.

He furrowed his eyebrows. He had read the Selected forms beforehand, but he didn't remember there being a Kim. "Lady Kim, of course. Please forgive my memory," he said.

Her eyes widened a fraction, before stealing back that frozen coolness. "Ah. I beg your pardon. Ji-Yu Kim. My first name is Ji-Yu, and my last name is Kim."

Now that she said that, he did detect the very faintest hint of an accent, but he couldn't place where, and it mixed with something utterly Southern Belle, too. His memory chugged and worked, trying furiously to remember information on Ji-Yu Kim's form. Where she was from, and where she worked.

He sat down and held up his hands. "Oh, not at all. I mix up my names all the time."

Lungs twisting, his inner voice rasped, you have literally never called yourself Schreave Merrick before.

Ji-Yu seemed to question this as well, as a curved eyebrow lifted upon her forehead, which lightly shimmered from whatever make-up she was wearing. "Your Highness… mixes up his names?"

Merrick scrambled for a recovery. "Ah, yes. My full name is Merrick Gregory Triton Clarkson Galloway Schreave," he frowned, squinting, "or does the Clarkson come before the Triton…?"

The faintest smile tugged on Ji-Yu's thin lips, before it vanished. "Yes. I see how that would be… a struggle. I only have the two names."

He managed a curt laugh. "That's handy." He puffed out his chest with pride pulled from some void within him. "I'm making it a rule now: none of my children will ever have as many names as I do."

And he paled. Why did he tell her that? If there was any advice screaming within his mind, it was not to talk about the possibility of children during his first meeting with the Selected. Talk about off-putting.

She nodded politely. Whether she had an opinion on it, he'd never know, as her face had been expertly schooled into that unforgiving exterior. She cleared her throat, as if dispelling her emotions.

"I actually make my mistake as, in New Asia, we introduce our surnames before our forenames. Force of habit comes to play."

Good, an opening point. "You're from New Asia?"

"Originally, yes," Ji-Yu replied swiftly. "South Korea, to be exact. I moved to Midston when I was eight, and I admit I am still not used to introductions."

His brain vomited information at him, recalling from his form read-through: she was twenty-one years old. Over an entire year older than him. Merrick tucked this away. "I see. Is that… your dress…?"

She smoothed out the skirt, as if on instinct. "Ah, yes. This is a hanbok, a traditional dress in South Korea. Since the palace's dress code requires formality, I thought it would be good opportunity to wear one." She frowned. "Would you prefer a… more western dress?"

Merrick blinked, before shaking his head rapidly. "Oh, no, no! Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. If it's formal, it fits."

Ji-Yu smiled – that tranquillity like the eye of a storm. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Ignoring the warring terror and awe within him, he said, "So, what do you do now?"

At this, Ji-Yu became rigid, and she looked at him with her head tilted downwards slightly, as if anticipating disapproval. It was the first sign of any weakness from her.

"I'm… a jujitsu instructor."

Pure awe fluttered into him, and he widened his eyes before he could help himself. Jujitsu? She really was a wraith, beautiful and terrifying and able to kick his ass.

She must have caught the sparkle in his eye, as she smiled – a quaint, subtle smile, but a smile nonetheless. "It's a wonderful job. Teaching children and adults alike to defend themselves."

"Wow," Merrick echoed. "Can you… show me?"

The words had tumbled from his tongue before he realised.

Oh god, his inner mind snapped. Why did I just ask a Selected girl to do jujitsu?!

Ji-Yu looked equally perplexed, blinking rapidly a few times as if her brain was still comprehending him. Still, she stood again and said, "If Your Highness wishes so." She paused, and a wary tone overtook her. "What… did you want me to show you?"

Well, he'd dug himself a hole now. Merrick gulped down a clamber of intimidation. "If memory serves, jujitsu involves a lot of… throwing?"

"Correct," she said.

"Erm," he said. "How about you throw me?"

Her cold exterior wiped clean for something completely nonplussed – he could practically see the question marks rolling from her head.

"Er, of course," she said. Then, she cleared her throat, batting away her outer emotions again, and scattered a few pillows onto the ground before her. "If you go to punch me, I will demonstrate it to you."

It was too late to back down now, as Ji-Yu had assumed a stance with her feet parted, her arms up to shield her face. His eyes slid to Clancy, who was watching like he didn't want to, but couldn't tear his eyes away – this was probably the first time he'd seen a Selected girl ask to be punched.

Merrick was certain it was the only time any Selected had asked to be punched.

He gulped down the saliva that collected at the base of his mouth. Unlike what the tabloids said, he very rarely worked out, and his arms were so flimsy that he could hardly hold anything above his own body weight. He knew this would only end in pure, unaltered embarrassment.

Still, he tried to put some oomph into his punch. He balled a fist, and swung, aiming for just passed her ear.

Ji-Yu snapped. She seized Merrick's noodle arm before it could collide with her and spun around. She tucked herself into his front, and kicked her leg back – it connected into his inner thigh and tipped him right over her shoulder as she yanked him, and he slammed into the pillows with a thwack.

The impact leapt through his back, sharp and stinging. Clancy yelped in the far corner.

Ji-Yu hovered over him, still holding onto his arm – it ached at her grip. Her hair dripped down her, no longer as straight or neat.

"Oh, I'm sorry… that was a bit…" She bit her lip, betraying some form of horror. "Are you all right?"

Dizziness crawled up his spine, and a low ache tickled through him, but he swatted all these feelings away. It only made him more aware of how she softened her hold, how gentle her touch was. "Oh, no – I'm fine," he said breathlessly. "How… I'm so much taller than you…?"

Ji-Yu let him go and stood, offering him a hand. Merrick took it – her grip was as strong as her throw, and he jumped up to his feet with ease.

Clancy had also neared. His chestnut hair seemed frazzled. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but… Your Highness is all right…?"

Spots seemed to dance across Merrick's vision, too, but they quickly receded as he shut his eyes. "I'm fine, thank you, Clancy." He dusted himself off and faced Ji-Yu. "That was truly amazing."

Ji-Yu merely inclined her head in a respectful manner. "Thank you, Your Highness." She took a deep breath. "As for our height difference, it shouldn't matter so long as you perform the technique correctly. I used your momentum and weight against you." Pause – her eyes widened a fraction. "N-Not that I'm bringing any attention to your weight, Your Highness. It's just that you're taller than me, and probably heavier simply because of your height—"

Merrick couldn't stifle the chuckle rising in his throat. "That's okay. I know what you mean." He placed his arms on his hips and beamed. "I take great pride in my tough physique."

Ji-Yu, too, cracked a smile with a show of her teeth. Even Clancy coughed his amusement away.

Alas, he couldn't stay here and have her continue to show him more. He rolled back his shoulders, which clicked with the effort, and listed his head. "Well, thank you, Lady Ji-Yu, for the demonstration. I should probably see the rest of the girls now."

"Of course," said Ji-Yu, recapturing that tundra – the ice and frost of her voice, posture, demeanour. "Thank you for seeing me today."

Part of his brain seemed to melt at her voice. "My pleasure," he stuttered out, sticking out his hand.

Ji-Yu's gaze pinned him, and she met his grip. There was no sweat on her hands, and their shake was brief and professional.

She curtsied once more before she left.

Merrick watched the door, as if he could still see the wispy outline of her ghost. She was sharp, haunting, and able to rip him to shreds, even in her formal gowns and priceless jewels. Her poise and grace was like nothing he'd seen in any of the Selected girls. And she hadn't sweated one bit.

And Merrick was spellbound.

He'd never had a crush before, and although he definitely thought some of the other girls were intriguing, none had quite captivated him as much as she had, just by planting him solidly on his butt.

Ji-Yu would stay. He even dared to think that perhaps… she'd make it to his Elite. Further? He didn't dare test fate.

But the little pinprick in his heart, jittery and boundless from such the short encounter, whispered to him.

Perhaps theatrics aren't so bad after all.

A/N: Ah, this idea came to me and I couldn't stop myself from writing it. How Merrick met Ji-Yu... not in the most usual sense, lol. Plus Sashi is here too, with all her wildness! Hope you enjoyed it!

I've added an Updates section at the top of my profile about how I'm doing with story updates, so if you ever want to know, check there. I've decided to slow updates of TSaTS in order to revise for my exams in January. The update schedule will probably be a little whack until they're over. Sorry everyone!

Also totally unrelated, but I'm going to see Cursed Child tomorrow... not read the book, but I'm pumped. :D

Next chapter of Select Few, I plan to tackle my first Selected character... ;) All reviews, favourites and follows loved. Thanks for reading!

~ Green

PS: The Clarkson does come before the Triton!