Enola should have known that this would probably be a bad idea. Yes, she had run away from her brothers to avoid a life that she thought would strip her of her liberty, but even she could admit that she should have thought this one through just a little more. No matter. She would wing it and make the most of the situation at hand. Even if she was about to enter a competition that could eventually make her the future Queen of the United Kingdom.

To be fair, she knew that she had to simultaneously hide in plain sight and in a place that her brother Mycroft would least expect her. And that was in this superficial excuse of a speed dating chalk up for Prince Reese. A prince that she did not even care to know. Granted, she'd never even seen him. But she was sure that he was just another aloof prick that preferred to be pent up behind his tall walls of privilege. Plus, she hated the idea of someone having their pick of the litter and thought it a bit shallow. But the young women that lined up at every available stall that took submissions didn't seem to. To each their own, she supposed. For most of them (at least from where she was standing in a bustling London), it was a free pass to being rich, famous, and of course, a future ruling queen. Still, to her, it was merely a meal ticket and an overt hiding spot. Pricey and elaborate but a hiding spot nevertheless. And at the time, it seemed great because, on the off chance that she got selected, she'd be practically unreachable to her brothers. Even if she was plastered on screens everywhere because of the competition from that point on. Her brothers couldn't get past the palace walls unless a royal gave the say so or an event was planned. She knew that much.

All of that would have been ideal. But rationalizing now, Enola was sure she wouldn't even get a double-take from the said prince. Which is why she was waiting in line, in the midst of giddy and excited young women to make her submission. Because at least then it would allow her time to think of a backup plan if and when this one fell through. She was desperate, and admittedly, this wasn't one of her shining moments. However, her brothers didn't know she was in London, and if she didn't find a way to put at least some distance between her and them, she was certain Sherlock would sniff her out sooner than later. So really, she was buying time. Yes, she'd go with that for now. It was her turn to submit her form and take her picture to complete her submission.

The results for who had been "selected" were about to be announced. She was at a cafe, and all eyes except hers were on the TV hanging in the top corner. She enjoyed her muffin with half the mind to get up and leave, but her curiosity always won. So she stayed. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a bit nervous because, truth be told, she could think of no other backup plan that didn't involve her hiding in obscure lodgings. She knew the money her mother left her wasn't going to last forever. But even so, she continued to eat and let her mind run a mile a minute. All while barely paying attention to the voice that came from the screen above her. She hadn't even bothered to look up at the royal family that she assumed was plastered on screen because she didn't really care to gauge the reactions Prince Reese would probably have of every selected girl.

That was until she heard her name leave the lips of the news commentator.

She seemed to have been momentarily frozen into place. Eyes slowly widening as the realization came in increasing waves. By the time she looked up, she had only seen her picture fading and moving on to the next selected girl. She was one of the 35. She could hardly believe it. And she was shocked to find that she hadn't been immediately filled with complete dread at the idea. She would blame that on the fact that she was relieved that she didn't have to find a plan b for a little while. As she made her way to her temporary room that's she'd (thankfully) be moving out of, she began to think. But then other thoughts crept into her head. Thoughts that varied from the fact that sherlock and subsequently Mycroft would undoubtedly know where she was or at least where she was about to go. And the fact that she was on her way to "compete" ( ugh ) for a prince's affections. She even thought with a bitter chuckle that Mycroft would be pleased as being selected immediately raised an individual's status and, by extension, their family's. Upholding appearances and achieving an exalted societal standing seemed to be a kink of his.

But as far as she was concerned, she would have to work on staying in this little game that was now afoot. At least long enough to come up with a better plan to eventually live the life she wished to.

The day had come for the selected to arrive at the palace. Enola had mentally prepared and reminded herself to maintain a level head in the limo ride. She was riding with a few other girls that registered in her area. As they chatted amongst themselves and bonded over being able to snag the "dashing prince," she allowed herself to get lost in the moving image that was outside. She could see a hoard of fans and photographers that lined the streets, no doubt wishing them well and itching to get a glimpse of them. Though the window glass was tinted, she wasn't quite used to the flashes. Not quite knowing what to do with herself, she settled on waving back and smiling much to the delight of ecstatic... fans ? Could she actually call them that, though? They didn't really know her yet. Would she stay in this tournament of sorts long enough to even let them get to that point? She wasn't sure, but she did know she'd at least go out swinging when that time came.

As they pulled up to the palace gates, Enola could only observe and take in the place in all its grandeur. She could only think that a child growing up here would be...lonely. And from what she remembers hearing, the prince was an only child. That moment of sympathy she had for him was dashed as she watched a multitude of servants line the entrances. He was still so obscenely wealthy, which wasn't necessarily his fault. Still, he must've been used to having everything served on a silver platter to him. But from what she could view, maids of three had been assigned to each selected girl that had already arrived. Would she be getting the same? She didn't quite know how to manage that. Would she be forced to learn?

What if she couldn't-

"You're in the way 5ft4". Rolling her eyes at that, Enola could only restrain herself from responding to the girl that pushed her out of her sight like this mistake in her perfect picture. She wasn't here to cause any trouble. She had to remind herself why but she wasn't going to lie. It was hard when at least 40% of the girls here seemed to be like this. Would the future Queen be one of them? Her stomach might have just curled at the thought. Making her way to the line before her, hands cooly in her pockets. A single whistle escaped her as she continued to take in the place.

She had been introduced to her ladies in waiting (Jesus, she wasn't sure she could get used to having those) and shown to her bedroom. She wasn't going to lie; she was impressed. As expected, it was every bit as luxurious as she thought it would be. Not a bad free ride , she mused as she looked around and the bed? That, she could get used to. It seemed to mold to her, and she was starting to worry she would never want to leave it.

Not too long after that, her ladies were getting her ready for their first dinner with the royal family. This would probably be the first time she would meet the lad that had these girls so boy crazy. She had to admit, she was a bit curious to know if he was worth all of the hype—just a little.

And even if he was, she wasn't actually here for him anyway. It took more than looks to sway Enola. What use was a boy with no substance?

As they were seated, she could see the King and Queen whispering to each other discreetly while sizing up the selected. I had noticed a chair to the king's left had been empty. The prince wasn't even here. Well, and that fact had slightly deflated the women around her. Subsequently, a servant came in announcing that the prince sent "his apologies but was otherwise occupied with work but will be sure to greet you all personally tomorrow." You could physically feel the energy in the room shift and reignite at the prince's mention of meeting the women. The almost sudden change tickled Enola. It was truly comical. But she'd stay mum. After the most delicious meal, she could honestly say she has ever tasted ( damn, did she pick the best place to freeload ), she along with the rest of the selected, made their way to their rooms. But she needed fresh air to at least start concocting a plan b when the warm blankets and delightful roast dinner eminently stops being a possibility for her. Besides, she was never meant to be caged in. Not when outside was so big and revitalizing.

But as she made her way to the door that leads to the great garden, the guards at either side had literally crossed their rifles in front of the door as she tried to leave. Enola was slightly flabbergasted. she deemed that that kind of thing was only the stuff of movies, yet here she was.

Now that just wouldn't do.

Now Enola didn't mean to get in a near screaming match with the guards who were now putting their hands on her to get her away from the door. She almost broke one's wrist when she felt him inching a bit too low. All she wanted to do was go outside for a second to think. Was that too much to ask?

"Let her go!" the guards looked at whoever elicited that authoritative tone behind her in confusion, momentarily stiffened, and then released her immediately. She'd smoothened any caused wrinkles on her clothes, slit eyes never once leaving the buffoons in front of her in annoyance. Mystery man continued,

"Open the door and let her out."

The guards looked taken aback.

"-but your hi-" Was this door not supposed to be opened or something? Were we not allowed to go into the gardens?

"-I didn't stutter, now please. Open the door."

Smiling smugly in triumph at the guards in front of her and without turning back even once, she made her way out into the night air.

"Are you ok? No, bruises?"

Fantastic.

Whoever it was had followed her out. She did notice that the voice was deep and male. But surprisingly gentle for the timbre. And Enola also realized how mannerless she was being by not thanking him for helping her back there. It was then that she turned around. And under the dimly lit garden lights stood a tall young man, with attractive broad shoulders that possessed what she would begrudgingly have to accept was probably the most gorgeous face that she had ever seen in her young life.