I'd spent close to half the night answering the phone and listening to people I hadn't talked to in ages congratulate me for having been selected. By the time I'd gone to sleep, my eyes had been heavy, and I'd set my alarm for 11am the next day, just in case I slept in. Apparently that had been a good idea, because when I woke up in the morning it was to the annoyingly loud, blaring sound of the alarm of the clock that I kept on my bedside table.

I slapped my hand over the button on top of my bedside clock, and when it's noise finally stopped, I let my eyes open. The light that flooded in from my window felt harsh, and I could feel the bags under my eyes before I saw them. They felt like weights pulling down on my eyelids.

I gave myself only a few extra minutes to lie there and wake up before I slid off of my bed and started getting ready. The King's would have been expecting me at their house by 12, and the bus usually took half an hour or so. I eyes the clock while I pulled my still damp pants onto my legs, not bothering with the button at the top of them. The pants were hand me downs from my mom, and though I wasn't exactly big, my mother had been a twig when she was my age. I was surprised I was still able to get the fabric over my legs, but the button was out of the question.

I grabbed a safety pin from my dresser and fastened it to both sides of the fabric, making do with what I had. When I changed into the shirt that the King's had given me to wear to work, it covered the undone button anyways, so I wasn't particularly worried about it. It couldn't have been that noticeable if Miss Marion had yet to see it.

My mom was sitting in the living room when I stepped out of my room. She took one look at me and laughed, "tired?"

"Is it that obvious?" I said, yawning. I moved into the kitchen to grab a granola bar, but I could still easily hear her in the other room.

"You look like a zombie," she yelled back. "Maybe you should call the King's and say you can't come in today."

"They'd fire me." I said, sighing. Really, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and crawl back into bed and catch up on the hours of sleep I'd missed last night. I'd stopped answering the phone somewhere around midnight, or maybe it'd even been as late as one, but I was the kind of person who went to bed early and slept in late, and I cherished my sleep like the King would his crown.

"Just tell them you had official Selection business to take care of." My mom said, and I laughed. "I'd love to see what they say to that."

I came back into the living room and fell back into the chair across from her. I snorted, "you know, now that I think about it, there's no way they would fire me now."

My mom nodded, "you could spend the whole day sitting in their kitchen eating their fridge empty and they wouldn't fire you."

We both laughed, and she reached forwards to turn on the T.V. I watched the beginning of the show she picked out, but sometime just after the opening credits I figured I should be on my way. I said goodbye and ran out of the apartment complex, nearly missing the bus as it came down the road.

It took just over a half hour to get to the King's house, which wasn't unusual. When I stepped off the bus, I walked only a block or two down the street before I ran up the long, winded driveway that I'd walked up a hundred times before.

I went into the house through the backdoor, stepping into the kitchen and closing the screen door behind me. Mrs. King was sitting just inside at the kitchen table, trying desperately to get Dylan to eat the sandwich that was sitting on the table in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. King." I said when I passed her. I'd almost made it out of the room when I heard her chair scrape against the floor, and I winced at the sound.

"Noah," she exclaimed, and I frowned, stopping mid step. I turned around to see her standing, staring at me as though she was surprised that I'd come into work. In the moment, I wished I'd taken my mom's advice and stayed home. "I wanted to congratulate you on the Selection! We were all watching last night."

I smiled, "yeah, thanks."

"Oh, I'm sure we can manage with just Misses Marion today," she said, walking over and putting her hand across my shoulders. I blinked, completely taken aback by the action. Mrs. King hadn't come within a foot of me since I'd first met her and shook her hand. "Would you like some tea? Juice?"

"Uh, no," I said, stumbling while she led me back around to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me to sit in. Slowly, I lowered myself into the chair and watched her walk around and sit across from me.

She seemed to have completely forgotten about her son and the sandwich he forgot to eat, and more than anything I wanted her to turn and refocus on that. Instead, she smiled at me and rested her hands on the table in front of her, "so, you must be so excited."

"Uh," I swallowed, "yeah. It's surreal."

"I bet," she said, sighing, "Sharron was so upset when she wasn't picked, but I suppose that's just how it is. To think it was you thought! Our maid!"

I knew she didn't mean anything bad by the way she said it, but I couldn't help but flinch. There was a backhanded slap to her words, whether she'd meant for it or not. "Yeah."

Miss Marion sauntered into the room then with a duster in her hand. At first, she didn't notice us, but when her eyes landed on me I couldn't help but like the look of shock they took on. It was incredibly unprofessional for a servant to be sitting at their employers table while on the job, and though I'd been uncomfortable with it only moments before, seeing Marion's surprise made more tolerable. I almost felt giddy about it, really.

"Oh, Miss Marion," Mrs. King said, following my eyes and seeing the woman standing near the sink. Miss Marion looked up, nodded lightly to show her she'd heard her, "Noah will not be working today, but I trust you'll be alright?"

Miss Marion looked over at me then, and I met her eyes with all of confidence and pride I was feeling in that second. Part of me loved the way I was being treated then, but another felt awkward. I felt much like I imagined an actor playing a role would, knowing it wouldn't last and that it was all only for show.

"Of course," Miss Marion said.

"Wonderful," Mrs. King said, letting out an airy sigh.

Miss Marion turned and left the room with the bucket at hand. When I looked back at the woman in front of me, I suddenly remembered the matter of her daughter's bracelet, and I decided not to even mention it. I didn't like the way Mrs. King was looking at me, as if I was a stepping stone to get her further in the world. I didn't want to risk her taking my word for Miss Marion's possible indiscretion and firing the woman just because I was a member of the selected.

I figured if it'd been yesterday, and I was nothing but Mrs. King's lowlife maid, I would have told her of my suspicion. But not now.

After an hour of useless and bitter conversation between me and Mrs. King, I realized I would have much rather been cleaning her toilets than sitting across from her. I'd preferred it when the only conversation we had was when her son kicked over buckets in the entrance room and blamed it on me. I wondered if that was what it was going to be like until I left for Angeles, and I wasn't sure what made me more nervous: being here and dealing with people like Mrs. King, or being there and dealing with people like the Prince.

"Mrs. King," I said, interrupting her midsentence. I hadn't been listening to her, but whatever she'd been saying was long and boring, and I caught the word "crown" towards the end of it.

"Oh, please, call me Emma." She said, and my frown only deepened. I might have been the only six in the province with permission to call their employer by her first name. To think, all it took was my name to be announced on T.V., and overnight I'd gone from a rat to an equal in this woman's eyes.

"Emma," I repeated, "do you think I might be able to leave early today? Maybe even in a few minutes? I think I have some… selection business to take care of."

I winced at the lie, but I didn't feel remorse for saying it. If I'd been forced to sit there and listen to another five hours of her chatting, I'd have phoned the selection office and dropped out right then and there.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I assume you won't be coming back for a while then? Or maybe not at all."

She winked, and I got her meaning loud and clear. I forced a smile, "Well, it's all up to the Prince, isn't it?"

The words felt forced when they left my mouth, but it was all I could think of saying. I imagined what someone like Mrs. King might have said if I told her I had no intention of becoming Queen, whether the Prince wanted me to or not.

I pulled the bus schedule out of my back pocket and checked the next time for the bus home. The next one wasn't scheduled to come by for at least a half hour, but knowing I'd have much rather spent it outside the house than in, I said goodbye to Mrs. King. I moved to leave through the back door, but Mrs. King ushered me towards the front, telling me there's no reason for me to have to walk all the way around the houses perimeters.

When I stepped onto the decorative porch outside the front door, my eyes burned from the flash of a camera. Just a few feet to my left, an older man was standing on the bottom step, a camera to his eyes. He'd stopped after just the one photo, but even that was enough to make me look at him with confusion.

"You are Miss Carins, aren't you?" He said, looking down at a notebook he'd been keeping in his front pocket. "Noah Carins? Of Allens?"

"Yes," I said, frowning. "Who are you?"

He laughed, "Oh, I'm a reporter for the Daily Report. We're doing an early bird special on the—"

I heard someone clear their throat behind me, and I looked up to see Mrs. King standing in the doorway. Attached to her hip, Dylan was looking up at me with the same annoying, beady and devious eyes he'd had yesterday. It felt refreshing to see that at least his opinion of me had stayed the same.

"I see you've met our dear friend Noah," Mrs, King said, and I stared at her for a second, completely taken aback.

"Uh, yes," The reporter said, nodding. He pushed up the glasses that were falling off of his nose and swallowed, "anyways, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind answering just a quick few questions."

The reporter's camera hung from a strap that went around his neck. It was facing the wrong way, so that the lens was digging into the poor mans stomach, but so that I could see the screen. The photo he'd taken of me was hideous, to say the least—I hadn't been looking at him, but instead at the street ahead of me. My side profile was, to say the least, not flattering.

I swallowed, "questions? How long is that going to take?"

"Only a minute or two," he said, eying the woman who still stood behind me, perched like a cat on the prowl.

"Sure," I said, nodding. I toyed with my thumbs while he flipped through more pages of the notebook in her hands.

"Alright, uh," he cleared his throat, "what is your favorite thing about Prince Roman?"

I blinked at the man, silent. I'd been expecting something simple like my favorite colour, or the skills I'd listed on my Selection Application form. I wondered if saying nothing would have been an acceptable answer, but somehow, I doubted it. Instead, I shrugged, "does he like blue?"

"The colour?" The man said, frowning. "I'm not sure. I think so?"

"Okay," I said, "then, that."

His frown turned into a look of confusion, and I couldn't really blame him. "You like that he likes the colour blue?"

I nod, "yes."

The reporter's eyebrows rose, but he wrote my answer down all the same. "Okay, um, what is something about you that is, maybe, unique against the other girls?"

That question was one that I found significantly less hard, but still struggled to find an answer for. "I… I want to be a doctor."

"A doctor?" The reporter repeated, writing my answer down, "but you're a six, are you not?"

I hesitated, wondering if ill-regarded the caste system while being on the record was a bad idea. Still, I said, "I imagine there are eights out there who've wanted to be singers, or sevens that have wanted to be chefs. I understand that I cannot be a doctor, but is that supposed to make me not want to be one?"

The reporter was quiet for a minute, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head while he processed this. I hadn't expected him to write my words down, but when I did, I felt a sense of pride. I'd been careful to ill-regard the caste system itself, but I said enough that I thought my dislike for it was implied just enough.

"Thank you for your time, miss." He said, turning and making his way back to his car.

From behind me, Mrs. King sighed, "oh, isn't this just so exciting!"

"Very." I said, nodding slowly, "well, I should be going to catch that bus."

"Oh, yes, of course," she said, waving, "have a wonderful day."

I nod, "You too. Emma."

My mom wasn't home when I walked in the front door of our apartment, but that didn't really surprise me. Our work hours usually ended close to the same time, it was just that the family of Two's that she worked for lived closer to home than the King's did, so she usually got home first.

The clock on the over read 2pm when I slipped my shoes off of my feet and hung my jacket on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The last time I'd been home at two on a Wednesday had been before I'd turned 16 and was eligible for work in the province of Allens.

My house was plain, and when I fell back onto the couch in the living room I found myself thinking about how different it would be to live at the castle. I'd spent every night of my life, aside from those few right after I was born, under the roof I was sitting under then. My mother and I had never had the money to travel to the neighbouring city, let alone to another province. Let alone across the country.

I spent the day lounging on the couch, watching whatever T.V. programs that were running over the day. Just before the clock hit seven, I decided to get up and make dinner for my mom and I, and when she walked in the door a half hour after she was pleasantly surprised.

"Hi," she said, eying the macaroni that I was pouring into bowls from the pot. "When did you get home?"

"Like, two," I said, bringing the two bowls over to the table. I fell back into one of the chairs and picked up a fork. "Mrs. King was treating me weird. I didn't like it."

My mom suddenly stopped moving, looking at me from her stance across the kitchen. I was about to ask her why she was looking at me like she was, but she spoke first. "Get used to it, princess."

"Princess," I snorted, rolling my eyes, "is that the new miracle?"

"Oh, you'll always be my miracle," she said, stepping over and kissing the top of my head. I squirmed under the sudden attention, but she ignored it. "You're just a princess, too."

"No, I'm not." I said, shaking my head. I bit into the food in front of me and looked up at her.

The phone rang just as my mom sat down, and when she moved to grab it I waved my hand at her to tell her to sit down. I jumped up from my seat with a mouth full of macaroni, chewing while I ran to the phone.

"Hello?" I mumbled when I lifted it off of the keypad.

A woman cleared their throat on the other end of the line, "is this Noah Carins?"

I looked back at my mom and saw her mouth the words "who is it". I shrugged. "Yes, it is."

"Wonderful," the woman over the phone said. I heard the click of what I assumed was a pen in the background. "My name is Naomi Richards, I'm the event coordinator at the palace in Angeles. I'm calling to inform you that tomorrow morning you will be visited by officials regarding all sorts of paperwork and contracts having to do with the Selection. Does 10am work alright with you?"

I blinked, putting my hand over the microphone and whispering to my mom, "Palace events coordinator."

"Sounds fancy." My mom said, wiggling her eyebrows.

I swallowed, lifting my hand off the mic, "Uh, yeah, I think that'll be fine."

"Perfect," Naomi said, and I heard her sigh, "over the next two weeks you will be visited by a lot of different people, however I will call you before they arrive to give you a notice, much like I am doing right now. I know you're of the Sixth caste, and so I'm sure a lot of what is about to happen will be overwhelming, but I ask you to get used to it as quickly as you can."

"Okay," I said, frowning.

"Have a good evening, Miss Carins." The woman said, before the soft click of the phone told me she'd hung up.

I put the phone back on the console and moved back to the table. When I slid back into my chair, I was surprised that my mom didn't ask me what the phone call had been about right away. Instead, she stayed silent and let me scarf down the rest of the food in my bowl. She did the dishes after we were finished, leaving me to retreat to my room.

When I closed the door behind me, I looked around at the floor that was covered in clothes and books and all sorts of things I hadn't touched in weeks. I wondered if, if I made a mess of it, the palace would have people to clean my room for me while I was there. As soon as that thought popped into my head, I thought of Sharron King, and vowed to make sure my room was clean every day that I was there.

I'd have been damned if I let a stay at the palace turn me into Sharron King.