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It seemed as if the funeral hadn't been the last cold day of the year. In the morning, Grayson woke up early to howling wind shaking his windows noisily. Not only that, but there was frost on the grass, and palace maids were shivering in their rarely-used winter gear as they carried potted plants from the gardens, covered in burlap sacks, into the heated greenhouses before everything froze. It would be another dreary day, it seemed, as if the weather was mirroring Grayson's mood. But, like the day before, he was determined to hide it. Even though the palace was draped in black for mourning, it was his duty to raise everyone's spirits, he knew. The Selection would hopefully do that for him, but with 35 guests coming to the palace in a mere two weeks, there would be no time for moping when there were preparations to make.

A cheerful smile spread over his tan face as Grayson left his room. It was too early for breakfast, but the wind made it impossible to go back to bed. He nodded to his butler, Gerard, before the door swung shut, and meandered through the halls toward his office. It was near his father's, of course- the Crown Prince's office must be near the King's in order to confer with him. But it still felt private, and Grayson figured he might as well get some work done.

Pouring over the papers was tedious, but a kind maid brought him a cup of coffee, which Grayson sipped greedily. The announcement would be made today on the Report. He combed through the application file once more. Name, age, province, caste. Those seemed the most basic. It asked for height and weight, as well, and a basic description of appearance, like eye color and hair color. There was a section for special talents, and a few other questions dotted here and there. In the introduction and instructions, it stated that applicants must present an official birth certificate before consideration, and there was a small box at the bottom that must be checked to agree to submit to in-depth questioning as part of a background check.

Wow, Grayson thought, they're really taking this seriously. In-depth questioning? What did that even mean? He made a mental note to ask his father about it, later, and moved on to the budget report that needed to be approved in order for the Selected to receive compensation.

The sun was intensifying just enough that it peeked through the heavy curtains when there came a knock at the door. Grayson shuffled his papers and cleared his throat.

"Come in," he said. The door swung open and his father peeked in.

"Grayson," he boomed, exuberant and forceful as ever. His father just had that image, like he was always meant to be king. He was thoughtful, wise, careful. He threw excellent parties and was a doting husband. He always had good advice for Grayson, and had raised his son to follow in his footsteps, carefully planning every move he made to improve the country and protect his family. Even his public image was immaculate, despite the recent outrage over the growing caste distinctions- it was as if King Monroe could do no wrong. Grayson only wished the public would view him so favorably.

"Hey," Grayson said, setting down his papers to focus his attention on his father. He wondered how his father knew where to find him.

"I just wanted to talk to you more about the Selection," King Monroe said, stepping in and shutting the door quickly, his voice dropping in volume significantly. "You know, without all the advisors around to hear."

Grayson nodded. The King meant business, and very serious business at that, if he wanted this meeting to be private. He slid his half-full coffee mug across the desk as his father took a seat in an empty chair. Monroe took it gladly and downed it in two gulps.

"I know this is a bad time to have a Selection, for you," Monroe started. "It's a terrible time for me as well, losing my parents so suddenly at whatnot." While he said it breezily, Monroe had raised Grayson, and they were alike in many ways. The same way Grayson had plastered on a smile and unbothered attitude, so had his father. The two of them shared a glance that conveyed how Monroe truly felt- deep, deep misery over the loss of his parents, the people who had raised him. Grayson couldn't even imagine losing his parents, he depended on them too much. "But it is more necessary than ever. These are dangerous times, more dangerous than even I had realized up until recently. I need you to be careful, now, and don't make any rash decisions. We need to keep the people unaware of how dangerous things are for as long as possible."

"Of course," Grayson said.

"I know in the past it has been common practice to send a few girls home right away, any that you just don't feel an immediate spark with… But don't feel the need to rush things. Take as much time as you need. People will love the added competition."

Grayson raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit expensive?" he asked.

His father shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "I have things figured out. In fact, don't even bother with that budget report. It's handled, and the one you have wouldn't even be accurate, anyway." He held his hand out for the papers on Grayson's desk. Grayson hesitated a moment, then handed over the budget.

"Now, you know of course that part of the reasons for this Selection are too keep the people happy, and in the dark." Monroe paused and glanced at the door, and dropped his voice so low that it was almost a whisper. Leaning in, he continued, "You are not to tell anyone about the inner workings of this. We're not perfect, you and I, but we're devoted to this country, and would do anything to keep it running." When Grayson nodded, he leaned back and his voice returned to its usual volume. "But all that being said, this is also the time that you're going to find a wife, someone you love. It's a tried and true method, to be sure, but it's alright to be a little nervous. I know I was before I found your mother. Just know I'm proud of you, son."

Grayson smiled. "Thanks, dad," he said. It was informal, but it seemed the formal parts of the conversation had concluded.

As his father turned to leave, Grayson remembered. "Wait, I had a question. This right here-" he waved the application form. "What does it mean, 'submit to in-depth questioning?' What type of background check are we running?"

Monroe smiled. "No worries, Grayson. It's just part of the vetting process. We can't have just anyone showing up at the palace. That procedure is just a safety precaution. It won't be applied to everyone, just those whose background checks seem suspicious."

Grayson wasn't sure his father was entirely telling the truth, but he let it go. Politics were politics, after all, and he was sure he would find out eventually.

At breakfast, he caught a steely glare from his sister Winter.

"The Selection?" she asked contemptuously. "You're still holding that, even though we attended a funeral just yesterday for our family members? I can't believe you, Grayson."

Grayson shrugged at his sister. She was always getting worked up over something. "It's fine, Winter," he responded brightly. "Think about it- it's a great way to get everyone's spirits up. And there's two more weeks before anyone even comes to the palace. The people need something light-hearted right now, and honestly? It was time I had one. I'm going to be taking over in a few years, and I'd rather have a few years of marriage under my belt before then than have to adjust to being a new King and having a new wife at the same time."

Winter narrowed her eyes, as if she didn't believe him. It was a well-worded lie, though, having been mixed with the truth, and eventually she swallowed it. Grayson turned back to his eggs and sausages. He hadn't lied completely- the plans were already set in motion before the tragedy, and it wasn't worth it to stop them. And it was a well-needed distraction. But did Grayson really want a wife? His thoughts turned sour. The only girls he ever met were either maids or foreign dignitaries, and neither bunch were very appealing to him. The foreign dignitaries were a wild bunch, always drinking too much and speaking a bit too freely about their opinions at parties. Many of them wore revealing dresses and flirted with Grayson, but he'd never felt any pull. His focus was purely on his role as Prince.

The maids, for the most part, weren't unattractive to Grayson, but it was beneath him to look at a Six, unless their parents were of a higher caste. He had little respect for those who willingly chose to venture outside of their caste, particularly a lower one- didn't they realize how much of a blow it was to the economy that people were choosing their own professions? But he also had to be grateful for their choice to be a palace maid. Maids were in great demand and short supply. All the lower castes, it seemed, wanted to rid themselves of manual labor and take on the professions of Twos. But it just wasn't feasible.

Grayson shook his head. He could worry about the economy all day, but it wouldn't fix anything. He needed to take things one step at a time.

His thoughts turned back to the Selection. It would be announced that evening, already. Even now, he realized that families with eligible daughters were opening their letters with wide eyes...