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Albany

After our makeovers, we're given a crash course in etiquette before we are taken to the dining room for dinner. When we get there, we sit in our assigned seats and wait until the Royal family arrives. When they do, we stand, curtsy, and sit back down when the King instructs us to.

And then the maids start serving food, and we start eating it, and oh my god. I think I'm in heaven. I've genuinely never tasted food this good in my entire life. I wish I could send food like this back to my family. I'm comforted by the fact that, with the compensation they get from my participation, they'll be doing well. Not nearly as well as I'm doing here at the Palace, but better than they've been for a long time.

Freya

The food here is incredible. I've never tasted anything like it in my life.

It actually might be too incredible. On the farm with Lake, all we ever had was simple foods (and never enough of them). I've never had food this rich, and it's making my stomach twist. Or maybe that's just nerves.

Whatever it is, it's getting worse, and I need to get out of here. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Our etiquette training didn't cover what the protocol is when you feel like you're going to vomit and you need to be excused.

Prince Elliot is sitting to my left. Having him so close is making me even more anxious, but I guess it's also convenient. "Your Highness," I whisper. "May I be excused for a minute?"

"Of course," he says. "Is everything all right?"

I nod and stand. I blush as I walk past everyone to get to the door. Once outside of the dining room, I have to ask a guard for directions to the bathroom. And then I'm alone in this bathroom that probably cost more to built than my entire house, and I throw up everything I just ate. And then I start to cry.

It was stupid to think I could do this. I'm just a Seven - a stupid, illiterate Seven, and that's all I'll ever be. I can't even handle eating dinner with the Royal family; it was stupid to think I could ever be one of them. Lake was wrong about me and I can't do this and I want to go home.

Just then, I hear someone else come into the bathroom. I turn around and see that it's another one of the Selected. I can't remember her name. I turn back around and heave again, and she's there in an instant, holding my hair back for me. When I'm done, she hands me a wet washcloth. I give her a weak smile. "Thank you." My voice is still shaky from crying. "I'm sorry, I just-"

She cuts me off. "It's not your fault. Are you okay?"

I consider lying and telling her I'm fine, but I think it's evident that I am not. "I don't know if I can do this," I whisper.

"Honestly, I think that's how we all feel right now," she tells me. "We're all crazy worried that we're not good enough for this, and wondering what we're even doing here. But you deserve this just as much as every other girl here."

I smile at her again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," she says, and I think she means it. "They told me to tell you that you can just go up to your room now if you can't go back to dinner."

"I don't know where it is."

She holds up a slip of paper. "Prince Elliot gave me directions." She helps me up. "Oh! And I'm Alison, by the way."

"Freya," I respond, happy that I seem to have made a friend, even if the way we met wasn't ideal.

. . .

I spend the rest of the night up in my room, which is utterly gorgeous. I was worried my maids wouldn't like me, or that they would think I wasn't good enough for this, but they've been nothing but kind.

Alison goes back down to dinner after dropping me off at my room, but about twenty minutes after that, I get a visitor. There's a knock at the door, and Madeline, one of my maids, goes to answer it.

I'm surprised to see Prince Elliot standing in my doorway. Madeline curtsies. "Your Highness."

"Thank you, Miss," Prince Elliot says to her. "I just came to check on Lady Freya."

I blush a little. "I'm sorry about leaving dinner; I didn't mean to be rude," I say.

"Don't be sorry," he says. "Are you alright? You seemed a bit ill."

"I'm okay," I assure him. "I think I'm just . . . not really used to having such rich food, I guess. I'm a Seven - or a Three, now, but I used to be a Seven, and we don't really have food like you do and . . . I'm sorry." I remember, a second after saying it, that he just told me not to be sorry. Too late now.

"No, I'm sorry; I should have considered that," Prince Elliot says. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Thank you, though."

"Of course," he says. He glances at the door. "I'll leave you alone now. I hope you feel better in the morning, and welcome to the Palace."

I find myself thinking about our brief conversation all night. It was short and awkward, but it was also very kind of him to come and check on me - and to not send me home.