CHAPTER 13

Tuesday, The 2nd of December, 2239

Princess Carolynn Schreave

"No. Not that way." I say, giggling lightly. Most of the boys, in their own self-confidence and -I suspect, a desire to show off- had left as soon as the 5 minutes had passed. They all decided to try to get to the bottom of the palace by themselves, which I totally got. Somewhere, somehow, they thought that they knew the palace better than anyone else, and didn't want any of the other selected, the competition, to know their secret strategy.

My guess was that they were hoping I'd offer the winner a prize, as I've done every time before. I wasn't planning on it, strictly speaking. I had just dated all of them, what more could they want from me? So, the not-so-lucky winners would unfortunately find out that for all their efforts all they received were bragging rights. What a pity.

Of course, the only exception to everyone going their own way was Divesh, who seemed fairly unsure of himself when it came to the game.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologized quickly. "Where are we going then?"

I smirk a little, looking at him. "How do you feel about playing dirty?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sure that the other team figured out the layout of the main staircases." I say, gesturing to the one we're currently standing next to. "Of course, we could try going that way, but I have another plan."

Divesh looks like he's not certain that he wants to know the answer. "What is it?"

"The servant's passages." I tell him. Divesh looks unsettled by this information. I get the feeling that he's a very by the book type of guy. Maybe figuring out a loophole in my own game wasn't exactly the most honorable thing to do, but it doesn't matter. I'm the princess and this is my palace. Who is going to challenge me? None of the selected will, if they wish to stay. And I'm sure Divesh won't complain either.

After all, I'm letting him share my glory.

"Won't everyone else be upset?" Divesh asks, looking suitably worried.

"That's only if they find out." I say, waving my hand dismissively. "How would they know?" Besides, even if they do know, as I already considered, no one is going to say anything. To me at least. Divesh may get some heat for it, but that's frankly just not my problem.

Divesh looks down for a moment, "I guess they wouldn't know," he finally admits, looking reluctant.

I flick his arm playfully. "See, that's the spirit. Now come on." I say, tugging on his hand. I lead him down the hall, to a small wooden door near a large window. This part of the corridor was never used. It hadn't been in years. The third floor is only for the royal family, and of course, it's only been me, Mom, and Dad for over 2 decades. I'm sure in the past there were monarchs who had need for 12 rooms, but not now.

That's how this little end of the hallway became the main point of entry of the servants coming to the third floor. Guards too, occasionally. It's far removed from anything that I, or the rest of my family, I suppose, might see.

"That's what these doors are for?" Divesh asks, gazing at the door with a new sense of wonder.

I nod, "Yeah. It's one and only purpose. Why, what did you think they were for?"

Divesh flushes, "Inneoste," he mumbles unintelligibly.

"I didn't quite catch that." I say, fiddling with the doorknob.

"Linen closets," he finally says.

I giggle again, opening the door. "Nope. Those are on the sublevels of the palace. Near the laundry." I rarely went down there personally (I mean, ew,) but I had looked over maps of the palace enough times to vaguely know the location of all the rooms.

"Huh. I didn't know that." Divesh says lightly. "I bet the washing machines are massive."

I pause, pursuing my lips. "I...actually am not sure about that one." I admit before I can stop myself. What am I doing? Confessing things to random guys are not part of the game plan. And I love a good old-fashioned plan.

"What? Never been there before?" Divesh asks.

"Of course I've been there before. I...just don't really remember." I say frowning slightly at the notion,

Divesh notices my face and softens. "Don't worry about it. I was just asking."

Before I have time to think this whole thing through, I open my mouth. "Why don't we go look?" I suggest, flashing a smile at Divesh.

"...in the laundry room?" He asks, seeming unsure.

"Yup. Why not?"

"Well, we're supposed to be playing a game right now. Won't they start to wonder where we went if we take forever to get back?" Divesh points out.

I mean, he's not wrong. They probably will start to consider where Divesh and I were, but that's where Divesh and I differ. I don't particularly care if some of the selected start to subconsciously question me. Divesh, on the other hand, doesn't seem too comfortable with that idea. Poor boy. He needs to learn not to value other people's opinions so much.

Especially not the opinions of a few guys who are about to become my rejects in a few months.

"Who cares?" I say, shrugging. "Now come on."

The servant's staircases are extremely unlike those of the rest of the palace. Instead of having fancy carvings and expensive carpets, they are reminiscent of what someone might find in a public elementary school. Fluorescent lighting, handrails painted in a plain read, and boring gray steps. It's rather ugly, to put it simply.

Divesh seems surprised at this change in scenery. "Wow...not what I was expecting. Well, no. I guess it was what I was expecting. I've just been in the world of royalty for a few weeks. Kinda messes up what I expect."

I look at him curiously, "Really?"

Divesh shrugs, "A little. I don't know."

"Oh. That's kinda weird." I say, poking fun at him. Besides, I would have thought that the servant's staircases would have been subpar to anyone's expectations, not just mine. Besides, doesn't Divesh go to the University of Allens? That's supposed to be one of the prettiest campus colleges in the entire country.

Divesh frowns slightly, "Well then, I guess I'm weird."

"No, no, no, no, no. I never said that. You're twisting my words." I say as we arrive on the landing of the first sublevel of the palace. I believe that there are 3 in all. "You're not that weird."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Divesh says, following me down the linoleum hall.

"It was meant to be one." I stop, reading the sign outside a set of swinging doors. "This is it." I tell him. "Fair warning, it's not that impressive. I mean, it just looks like a standard laundromat." Or at least the laundromats I've seen in movies. I've never actually been in one.

Divesh chuckles, "It's a laundry room. I wasn't expecting for there to be...I don't know, diamond-encrusted washing machines."

"Good. I don't want you to get your hopes up."

Divesh pushes the door open, hitting us both in the face with the strong smell of laundry detergent. I wrinkle my nose, surveying the room. The walls are painted a hideous shade of yellow, some pictures lining the walls. Pictures that can be purchased at regular stores, I mean. Not the pictures that line the walls of the palace, where they were all bought from art auctions or personal collections.

A few baskets line the room, though it's mostly empty. I'd assume that most of the staff is still on their lunch break. The washing machines sit on one side of the room, the dryers on the other. At the back end, near some windows placed high in the walls, there are a few ironing stations set up.

Divesh walks over to one of the washing machines, rapping on it with his knuckles. "They're just normal sized washing machines." He says, looking disappointed at the notion.

"I told you not to get too excited." I point out smugly.

"Your Highness, if it's not...um, classified information, I have a question?" Divesh says. His use of my title takes me off guard. I guess I never told him to call me Carolynn or Carrie, but the conversation we were having was so normal. It feels weird for that to be suddenly dropped in.

"If it's about the laundry room, I doubt it." I say, giving him room to say whatever it is that he wants to say.

"No. Nothing like that. The staircase we were in earlier was that one of the um passages to the safe rooms. I read that they were used a lot during some rebellions." Divesh says nervously. Right, he wouldn't know much about the rebellions in some of this country's formative years. Good thing for that.

"Nah. Of course not. The entrances are better hidden than that." I tell him. "Try pushing on random things in your room, I'm sure one of them will open up the door."

Divesh furrows his brow, "That doesn't seem very safe."

"It's not." I answer, hoping that he won't actually take my suggestion. Let's be real here, it's Divesh. There's no way he's putting his safety on the line for that. So I think I'm pretty much in the clear with that for once.

"You never boarded them up?"

"The safe rooms you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." I pause thinking for a moment. "No. Just in case. They haven't been used in like...80 years, but who knows. Something could go wrong." Not that it ever has, but details. It doesn't really matter anyway, considering the last time the safe rooms were used. In fact, it wasn't even for a rebel attack. I think there was a massive hurricane or something along those lines.

"Do you think that-" Whatever it was that Divesh was going to say, I never find out as my mother bustles into the room. "Your Majesty." Divesh says quickly bowing.

Mom looks at him, smiling for a second before turning to me. "Of all the places in the palace, Carolynn, why are you in the laundry room?"

I glance at Divesh, "Uh, we were talking about the washing machines."

Mom does a double-take, "The...washing machines? For heaven's sake, Why?"

Luckily, Divesh speaks for me. He stammers over his words, but better than nothing. "I...I said something about a room being a, a uh linens closet, and Her Highness told me that the..the linens closest are all near the laundry room. And she was...she let me...we went to come look."

"In the linens closet?" Mom asks.

"No! Well, kinda. We didn't look at them yet…" Mom holds up a hand, obviously having heard enough of his rambling.

"You know what, I don't think I want to know the answer." I feel heat rush to my face at what Mom is implying. "I really came here to talk to my daughter."

"We're not done with rescue mission yet." I protest.

"Shame. Game's over." Mom says dismissively. "What is your name?" She asks Divesh.

"Divesh. Divesh Agarwal."

"Well, Divesh, if you could go rejoin the rest of the selected in the foyer, that would be wonderful. Please tell them that Carolynn will not be coming." Mom flicks her hand at him, waiting for him to leave the room.

He does, bowing quickly and making his way upstairs. He's probably wondering what it is that Mom needed to speak to me about, though I suppose he knows enough not to outright ask. That wouldn't end well for him.

Once I'm certain he's out of earshot, I turn to my mother. "Mom! We didn't do anything. You're embarrassing me." I whine, stomping my now sneaker-clad foot. I had switched my shoes before the game started, making my team wait outside my room as I changed.

"If you say so. Now come," she says, opening the door to the laundry room with a small frown on her face. What can I say? I didn't get my expensive tastes from nowhere.

I pout, crossing my arms as I reluctantly followed Mom up the staircase. The actual staircase this time, not the one meant for servants. There's only one main staircase that goes to the sublevels. No one really wanted to go to the servant quarters, but on the rare occasion that they would have to, there was no way my ancestors would subject themselves to the harsh lighting of the staff staircases.

Of course Mom had to do this now. Come to talk to me about the military budget report that I left unfinished. It was a ridiculous assignment anyway, it didn't need to be finalized by next month. Yet she wanted it ready for the next finance meeting on Thursday.

"We're not going to your office?" I ask in surprise as she steers me towards a parlor on the first floor.

"It would be a tight squeeze," she says vaguely.

How many people are being gathered to watch me come up with a reason why the budgets aren't done yet?

Turns out, the answer is 3: My aunt, uncle and dad.

Great.

"Farrah, what's wrong?" Aunt Quinn asks from her position on the couch. She pats the spot next to her, indicating that I should sit down. Maybe Mom didn't make us all gather here to berate me. Then what could it be about? The only thing that comes to mind is that she might be having a second child, but I doubt that. Is it even possible to become pregnant at almost 50? I think not.

Mom shakes her head slightly. "Nothing leaves this room, do you understand me?" She says firmly. I resist rolling my eyes. Personally, I think that's overkill in a room consisting of your husband, daughter, brother, and sister-in-law. It's not like any of us would sell this story to the press. For one, it would drag us down with it, amnd second, well, no one here needs the money.

Plus family love and all that jazz.

"Of course." Luke promises. Quinn nods her agreement.

Mom turns to me, "Carrie?"

"Who am I going to tell?" I ask, shrugging.

"I don't know. That's not the point." Mom says, looking at me. Is she really going to make me do this? Ugh. Fine.

"I understand, Mom. Nothing leaves this room." I hole up a hand, almost as if I'm being sworn into office.

"Okay. Thank you." Mom sighs before speaking. "You all remember the trade ships right? The ones that had the Italians all in a tizzy?" I nod. I remember my uncle mentioning them from time to time, and when my cousins came over for dinner because of those stupid ships. Is it too much to hope that they magically solved themselves so that I don't have to see my cousins again during my selection? I have a nasty feeling that wherever Mom is going with this will end in a lot of working late, and as a result, me seeing a lot more of Garnet, Aggie, and Teddy.

"What about them?" Luke asks, looking concerned. After all, that's supposed to be his line of work.

"Turns out they made an unauthorized stop at a British port before going to Italy, where there was an... illegal transfer of goods, including ones that are prohibited in Italy." Mom explains, her face impassive.

The tension in the room is thick, finally, I voice the question that I'm sure everyone else is thinking. "Was it a commercial transfer or federally authorized?" I ask, hoping for the former. I know the law, and that would be better for both countries.

"The government had a hand in it, yes." Mom says, pressing her lips together.

Oh.

OH.

That was bad. That was very very bad. Bad for Illéa, yes, but also, bad for my love life. I know, I know, Illéa comes first, but still. I was planning on looking up engagement rings tonight.

"Farrah, tampering with a trade ship...That's an act of war." Dad says, his voice quiet.

"I know it is."

"Did you call them?" Luke suggests, "Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding." Now, I know I like to look on the bright side, but even that is a far stretch. Still, I applaud him for trying. Someone needs to be positive Polly here, because it's certainly not going to be me. I'm a bit busy thinking about my now jeopardized wedding

"Obviously."

"Well, what did they say?" Luke asks.

"The King, in politer words of course, suggested that I use better protection on my ships if I do not want them to end up in another country's possession. God, I hate that man. His mother never should have abdicated." Mom states, looking up at the ceiling.

"He said that to you?" Dad echos, looking upset.

"To be fair, I politely pointed out our superior military capabilities. Though of course, their airforce is better which leaves us in a bit of an awkward position." Mom explains, shaking her head. Well, I suppose that explains the rude comment from the King. Life would be much easier if the political leaders of the world could just say what they wanted, forgetting all the euphemisms and seemingly kind -yet still threatening to those who knew- words.

That would never happen though. Above all else, there must be a pleasant atmosphere to decrease hostility. Not that it actually worked. It just caused all the threats to be thinly veiled instead of outright. The silly mind games that they all, myself included, seemed to play.

"Mom, don't be ridiculous. We're not actually going to war." I point out, tired of her overdramatics.

"Not over a trade ship Carrie, I know that as well as you all do, but this could escalate. We just need to be prepared." Mom answers me, looking annoyed.

Aunt Quinn spoke up for the first time, "And what of the boy?"

"Hm?"

"If it seems that England really is intending to create conflict, it just seems reckless to leave one of their own in the care of our family." Quinn says, looking equal parts concerned and mystified at this point. I would be inclined to agree with her on it normally, but I know nothing is going to happen to Henri. Mom wouldn't dare.

"I know. This must have been in planning for a while, and when the selection started, I suppose the King must not have called it off." Mom says. Quinn, obviously had thought about it for a while, and I guess it made sense. The selection hadn't even been announced when the first problems with the ships arose, and it was probably not worth turning back. After all, King Edmund is Henri's cousin, I'm sure there was some sense of loyalty there, but not enough to deter the...issue.

"Say what you will about that, it seems like a security hazard for us." Aunt Quinn states, taking her thoughts in a new direction. She must have been thinking hard about that, as I had been too stuck on the whole sorta but not really war thing to give it the so-called security hazard proper thought.

"It is one. And it will be dealt with. Who knows? Maybe he'll be useful later down the line." Mom suggests grimly.

"You're not suggesting using a child for leverage, are you?" Luke asks incredulously.

"He's not a child. He's 20 years old." Mom says dismissively.

"That's a year younger than Carrie. You can't use him as a negotiating tool." Luke says, looking firm on this point. I'm inclined to agree with him. I don't really want my boyfriend and soon to be fiancé to essentially be a bargaining tactic in whatever game Mom is trying to play.

"Luke," Mom says firmly, "First of all, his birthday is this month, he's almost 21. Second, don't tell me how to run my country. If I need your opinion on writing an email, believe me, I'll ask for it," she states. Uncle Luke flushes, shaking his head and muttering something unintelligible.

"Right." Aunt Quinn says, clapping her hands, "Is there anything else we need to discuss today? Luke and I need to speak to the city's educational council."

"No." Mom says simply, waving them out of the room. Once they are gone she herself sinks into the sofa next to me.

"Farrah," Dad says, looking to her, "I don't know if this is the best way to go about it. Perhaps it's better for Henri not to be caught in the crossfire."

Mom shakes her head slightly, "For him, probably. Not for us. Besides, I don't think Carrie would be very happy with us sending away her boyfriend, now would you?"

"Of course not." I agree, crossing my arms. "Besides, this whole thing will just fizzle out. I'm not ruining my life over a trade ship gone off course."

"A bit overdramatic, aren't you today?" Dad asks.

"No. Never." I protest. I don't like them making my selection all about the country. It's for me. There are times when I have to put Illéa first, but not now. Right now is Carrie-time not worry-about-the-country-instead-of-my-love-life-time.

Mom shakes her head, "I'm going to have to tell Henri you know, certain measures will have to be put in place." Eh. I expected that. No big deal. It's not like he's going to not want me after that. I'm sure if you asked every guy in Illéa, they would all say that they would like to marry me. Well, except the ones who don't like girls. Not the point though. The point is that I know myself, and no guy is going to leave me.

"Yeah. I figured as much." I pause, wrinkling my nose for a second, "Can you tell him though, not me?"

Mom frowns, "Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely." I respond. At least this way, if he is upset, he won't be upset with me anywhere near the proximity. By the time I see him, he'll have calmed down and be back to himself.

"I'm not going to do your dirty work for you, Carrie." Mom states.

Oh, that I have a way out of.

Easy peasy.

I pout slightly, pullion off my best wide-eyed little girl look. "Mommy, please, please, please." I beg, my voice sugary sweet. I've pulled this off many times before. It alway works. It works with Dad too. My ace up my sleeve.

Mom falters for a moment, her face softening, "I don't know...Is it really that important to you?"

I nod once, "Please."

Mom sighs, "I'll speak to him about it tomorrow. No sense in ruining your game today."

"Perfect." I squee hugging her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Before either of my parents have a chance to change their minds, I giddily make my way out of the room, down the hall to the foyer where my selected are still waiting for me. Huh. Clearly something must have gotten messed up in the translation of the message from my Mom to Divesh to the group. I hadn't expected that they would all still be here waiting for me.

I guess it makes sense though. The winners wanted me to hear about their glory. The losers wanted me to tell them what a great job they did.

Please.

I wouldn't be doing that. I might be many things, but I am not a liar. I refuse to tell someone that they're doing a great job when they embarrassed themselves. Brutal honesty is a necessity in the world, I'm not about to baby the guys who all came here. They knew what they were getting themselves into.

Well, actually they didn't, come to think of it. Oh well. That's why you should always read the fine print before signing a contract.

"So, who won?" I ask, as I approach the group.

"Technically, team 1." Tex says, frowning. Right, he was on team 2.

"What do you mean, technically?" I question, taking in all of their defeated faces.

Tex sighs before explaining, "We tagged out all the people from the first team except for Divesh. So, I guess he won it for them." Oh. I guess my little tidbit of information about the servant's staircases that I passed to Divesh must have been enough for him to make it to the foyer without being tagged. Though I would have thought that someone would have actually considered the possibility of the servant's passages.

"That sucks. Seriously, no one thought of the servant's passages?" I ask holding back a giggle.

"Nathaniel did." Tex offers.

"And then what happened?"

"I didn't consider the fact that someone who was living here for the better part of 2 weeks would actually know where they were." Nishav says bitterly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I told you that someone would." Tex insists.

"No you didn't." Nishav replies simply.

"He's not wrong." Divesh says, his voice shaking slightly. "I didn't know where they were, the Princess showed me." I mean, I would have shown the rest of the guys if they had actually waited for me, but no. They decided to go try and win on their own. Look how that turned out for them.

"Thank you." Nishav says, his tone unbothered.

"You...You actually came up with a really great plan," Divesh continues. "I mean, I would have gotten out too. It was probably cheating anyway. You guys deserve the win, not my team."

"Divesh," Nyson says, leaning over to flick him on the shoulder, "We won. Let's just leave it at that."

I hold up a hand, "No, no. I want to hear this. Divesh, you think that the other team should have won." I ask, to confirm his story.

"Yes." Divesh agrees quickly, "We don't deserve it." The rest of his team doesn't look particularly pleased at this statement, George in particular looking at him in a mixture of surprise and confusion. I'm sure they all wanted to win.

"Now," I say, turning to the other team. "Let me get my story straight. Nishav came up with the plan for the group. The plan that got out every other member of my team?"

"It was more common sense." Nishav says.

"Dude, you came up with the plan, take credit for it." Henri tells him. "The plan was entirely his idea." Henri smiles at me, and I can't help but feel a bit guilty for carrying on this charade with him in the dark. He'll know tomorrow though. And then the whole stupid trade issue will be resolved in time for my final ceremony. And I'll even invite the british King to my wedding. I'll be the bigger person and all that.

"Okay. So it was Nishav's plan. Now, Nathaniel was the one who pointed out that someone might take the servant's staircases?" I'll admit, I'm having fun playing judge in my faux-jury. Watching them all squirm is surprisingly entertaining.

"I don't know, one of the maids told me about it. I just thought it might come up." Nathaniel says, clearly downplaying his involvement. What a bunch of modest boys that I pulled for my selection. I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse.

"Hm." I hum for a second, "Interesting." I'm stalling to try and make them more anxious, and it's clearly working.

"So?" Nishav asks, obviously having grown tired of my charades.

"Right. This is what I've decided." I pause for dramatic effect. "From what I hear, neither team deserves to have won. However, I believe that Divesh, Nathaniel, and Nishav were clearly the best at this game. So I am declaring them the winners."

Most of the guys frown, and start complaining under their voices, still loud enough for me to hear though. With a few glaring exceptions. Henri, who looks like he doesn't particularly mind losing, and Sebastian, who looks genuinely happy for them.

"Good job, guys," he calls to all of them.

"Thanks, I didn't even do anything though." Divesh says apologetically.

"Don't be silly, you were smart enough to stick with the Princess. That's got to count for something." Bass assures him.

What a great player.

"And you know what," I call out, "For being such a good sport, Sebastian can come along to our winner's dessert party tonight."

"I didn't win though," Bas protests, "Seriously, I shouldn't go."

"Are you arguing with me?" I ask, looking him dead in the eye.

Bas flushes a dark read and rubs the back of his neck, "No. No, of course not."

"Great. It's settled then." I flourish my hands before turning away, speaking over my shoulder. "My maid will send the information to your room. Expect for there to be camera crew present. And for there to be interviews before the party starts." Mom had stressed to me that she would like it if we had more content to sell to the producers. That wasn't my sole motive in including Sebastian, but the name Reddlyn-Monroe sold, and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

The dessert party is being held on a large balcony connection to a parlor on the second floor. Far removed from all the guest rooms of course. We wouldn't want any party crashers coming to try and insert themselves into my date/money making scheme.

I prefer to call it multi-tasking.

Jenna had gotten me ready after dinner. She had straightened my dark curls, my hair now reaching my mid-back. I had picked a floral dress for tonight, one that some irrelevant designer had sent me. I normally don't care about the smaller designers who send me clothes hoping that I'll wear it, but this one in particular caught my eye. It had flowers and rhinestones. What more could I want in a dress? So, this one was saved from the goodwill bin where most of them ended up.

I chose one of my flashier tiaras for tonight. The frame was made out of gold metal, with sapphires dotting the sides. In the center was the crème de la crème: A large opal, surrounded by smaller sapphires.

I looked stunning. I was probably going to break a few hearts today.

Well, not today because I'm not planning on eliminating any of these guys tonight, but I'd be setting the stage to break them in the future. Which made me feel a little icky, now that I stopped to think about it. Ah well. No one told these guys to fall madly in love with me.

Nathaniel is being interviewed in the makeshift studio Lindsay had set up when I arrive. Nishav, Sebastian, and Divesh are all waiting for me on the side.

"Did you all go yet?" I ask, not missing the expression that crosses over Sebastian and Divesh's faces. Not Nishav's obviously, but what did I expect?

"Yeah, but Lindsay said that Nishav has to redo his." Sebastian tells me.

"Apparently she didn't think I sounded bubbly enough for the Illéan public. I didn't know that this country was made up of surface-level dolts." Nishav says, shrugging slightly.

I look at him, "Maybe that's why you're redoing it. Word of advice, if you're trying to make people like you, don't call them dolts."

"I don't care what people who do not even know me think about me." Nishav replies simply.

"Lucky." Divesh says, chuckling lightly, "I wish I could be like that." Oh. I don't know how well that bodes for Divesh in the future, if he needs everyone to simply adore him.

"It's not that hard." Nishav says, "You just start by knowing that people's opinions of you don't matter."

"Unless it's about your artwork." Sebastian jumps in, "Then it definitely matters."

"I guess you need to have your art sell, don't you?" I ask him.

"Of course. People need to want to buy the sculptures or pictures or whatever. How else are you supposed to make money?" Sebastian asks, grinning lightly. "I mean, other than asking my parents for it of course. But I don't want to just do that forever."

"Who are your parents?" Divesh asks, looking interested. "I know Lady Van Der Witts says they're friends with Princess Quinn."

I answer for Sebastian, "His parents are the one and only, Reddlyn-Monroes." I state, almost as if I'm a gameshow announcer. I'm dying to ask Bas about how exactly his parents got together, but that might not be my best bet in front of 3 other guys if I want to get him to answer me honestly.

Divesh's face is blank, "Uh, who's that?"

Nishav sighs before turning to Divesh, "They were both in the selection for Prince Lucas. The Monroe family is known for writing crime novels, though Esme Monroe -his mother- is a doctor." Yup. I fully stand by my statement that Nishav is a stalker.

Bas flushes, "Pretty much, yeah." He looks somewhat disturbed and embarrassed that Nishav just essentially read off his family history.

"Oh, wow. That's really cool. My dad loves crime shows." Divesh interjects.

"My grandparents too," Sebastian tells him, "They do write the books after all."

"I love them." Divesh says

"Me too." Sebastian agrees, looking happy to have found common interests.

"Really?" I ask, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh. Well, to each their own."

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asks, looking equally as confused as Divesh.

I shrug before explaining myself, "I don't know, they're a little morbid, don't you think? And the plot is either ridiculously complicated, or you're able to guess it in the first 10 minutes. There's absolutely no in between." I tell them all, making my opinions clear.

"I guess." Divesh says quietly.

"Nishav," Lindsay says, coming over to us. "I need to take your interview and then we can start the actual date portion. And please, this time seem approachable. I know it doesn't particularly matter to you, but I have a reputation to uphold." She grabs Nishav by the elbow, leading him away as Nathaniel comes to join us.

"Your Highness," he says, bowing to me, "I didn't see you come in."

"What a travesty." I say, keeping my face serious. "No. It's whatever. You were doing your interview thing with Lindsay."

"Yup." Nathaniel confirms.

"Oh! How were those, by the way?" I ask the group.

"She kept talking a lot about my work with the ocean clean up group I'm part of and how I feel about you. She kept switching between them, hoping to catch me off guard, I guess." Nathaniel tells us, looking unbothered by this. That's a good thing.

"Same." Sebastian tells him, looking surprised. "She would be asking a question about my artwork and then suddenly start talking about how I feel to be here tonight. I thought it was a bit weird."

"Yeah, for me it was medical school, but pretty much." Divesh confirms.

I have to stifle a laugh at their cluelessness. "It's her patented strategy, distract you and then get you to open up. She has someone edit it all together at the end so it looks nice."

Nathaniel nods once, "That seems overly complicated."

"The ends justify the means." I sing-song. "It gets her results, and besides, it's not like she's the one editing together the footage. She's just the middleman."

"That's kinda scary." Sebastian admits.

"What is?" I ask curiously.

"That there's someone whose sole job is to try to wiggle information out of us. It just feels wrong," he admits, his face scarlet.

"You better get used to it. All of you. Every talk show in Illéa is going to have you guys on it after the selection. Assuming you're not the Prince Consort, of course." I hurriedly add, not wanting to imply the obvious too early on in the selection.

Nishav comes back, looking at Lindsay with a disdainful glance. "I've finished."

"Yes, he has." Lindsay pipes in cheerily. "Now, the cameras are already set up, so just avoid looking at them head on. Have fun!" She says, before leaving us with the royal camera crew. Lindsay doesn't deal with the more technical aspects of video production, only really interacting with the glitz and the glamour of her job.

A table had been set up in the middle of the room, covered by a lavender tablecloth. A few rather unnecessary space heaters surrounded the table. Crystal stemware filled with wine and, for those who weren't yet old enough to drink -looking at you, Sebastian- sparkling grape juice. Fine china plates with gold lining had been set up, the true show stopper was the massive dessert tower in the middle of the table.

4 levels high, and filled with every dessert someone could feasibly imagine. There were different types of cakes and tarts. Chocolate chip, macadamia nut, and sugar cookies. Macaroons in varying colors, the flavor probably something similar to the color. On the top was a small bowl of melted chocolate and skewers of strawberries for dipping.

"Wow." Nathaniel says, looking at it with interest.

"That's more dessert then I think I've seen in all my life." Bas adds.

Nishav looks at it, unimpressed. "Huh."

"Oh, come on," Divesh says to him, "You can't tell me that's not impressive." Thank you. Finally someone who's not me to call Nishav out on being so negative. I was starting to think I was the only one with a brain in this entire palace. Even my mother likes Nishav. She had found his music to be superb when she went to his concerts years ago.

"I suppose it looks nice," He begrudgingly admits, nodding his head.

"There we go." I say, grinning. "That wasn't too hard, now was it?"

"Of course not, Princess."

The rest of the evening passes smoothly, whether it be the wine, the cozy atmosphere courtesy of the space heaters (Fine. I take back my statement that they were unnecessary), or just the fact that everyone seemed to warm up to each other. The evening is better than I thought it would be. Less of a chore like most of my dates have been and something more enjoyable.

Ack. Is it possible these guys are growing on me?

Ugh. Whatever. In a few months it will be like this never happened.

Selection, fake boyfriends and silly war all included.

A/N: Wow, so this is the first time I'm writing an A/N on the day that the chapter is going up, so I'm not totally in the dark about the happenings of the world. Yay. So it's December which is so exciting, it's almost the holiday season. Hanukkah starts soon, and I'm really excited for that. So...what else is going on? Oh! Callie, otherwise known as the mother of Sable and the grandmother of Bas is writing a fabulous 5+1 about Sable, so yeah. Okay, I don't have anything else to say. See you all on Monday, or maybe a few days later. I have a lot to do this weekend.