The gate towered over their car, fastened out of iron that'd been welded to look like vines. I gaped at it, leaning over Tamara to press the button that would unroll the window. While I climbed over her to poke my head out of the car, I was sure those that chose to keep all of their limbs inside the vehicle were looking at me like I was insane, but It didn't care. Not then.

The car rolled forwards slowly, and I watched as we passed the stone wall that stretched on for what looked like miles, tall enough that it had to be impossible to climb over. The yard that hid just behind it was the brightest green I'd ever seen, cutting off in a straight line right where the stone road that the car drove on began. Not a single blade of grass crossed the line.

I turned to look ahead, and suddenly there were too many things to look at. I couldn't keep my eyes in one place.

The palace was huge, and though I'd see it on countless occasions on the television, it didn't do it justice. It was huge, with pillars coming down from the roof in the front, and windows surrounded by iron with designs that matched the gate out front. It looked more like a hotel than someone's home.

Just in front of it, the road turned into a circle surrounding a gorgeous fountain. While the car drove around it, I was able to look up and gape at the sculpture from which the water shot out of—it was marble shaped like a man and a woman dancing, with water coming out in tiers just below it.

Tamara leaned out the window beside me, looking up at the piece of art and clicking her tongue, "I read that it's as old as the palace itself. An artist centuries back painted it for his Queen as a gift, and it's been here ever since."

"Well, I can see why no one ever got rid of it," I said, just as the car slowed to a stop.

Tamara and I pulled our heads back into the car and clicked the button to roll the window up, waiting until it was closed to pile out.

The car had stopped just in front of the front grand staircase that led up to the front doors. Tamara and I stood outside the limo waiting for the others to come out. When Ashley stepped out beside us, she smiled at the sight of the palace, and then leaned over, whispering, "it's so pretty."

"The prettiest," Tamara agreed.

The front doors were pushed open, and a woman made her way down each of what looked like twenty steps. Her hells were short, but they still clicked with each new placement of her foot. Her hair was styled up in a perfectly pined bun, and even as she drew closer, I couldn't point out a single hair out of place.

Sierra stepped out of the car just as the woman reached the bottom step, looking over us through her wide-rimmed glasses. She smiled, but it looked completely forced. "Ladies, welcome to the palace. My name is Naomi Richards, I would have spoken to each of you on the phone. Now, if you'd follow me."

She spun on her heels and began making her way back up the stairs. The moment the four of us began to follow, the car we'd been standing against started to make it's leave, and we were suddenly stranded there, in the shadow of a house so big it could have fit ten of my apartment complexes.

The doors were held open for us by two guards that were standing outside them, both of which wore the same kind of navy blue and white uniform. Naomi soared right passed the men without so much as a glance in their direction, but I ushered a quick 'thanks' while we walked passed.

The inside of the palace was just as glamorous as the outside. We walked into a room that was heavily decorated but lacking any furniture, with a roof that stretched as high as the whole building, forming a skylight at the top. I gaped at the beauty of it, with the cream-painted walls that contrasted the red carpet. There were statues standing at the far end of the room, forming a line all around the wall.

Naomi didn't give us a single second to stare at the rooms as we walked through them, and she led us through the maze of hallways with a pace that was hard to match even without lollygagging. Abruptly, she stopped in front of a door that, unlike most of the others we passed, was not labeled. Naomi pushed the door open, and I blinked at the chaos that was happening inside.

"Okay, you," she pointed to Tamara, "go to station five, just over there to your right. And you, Ashley, head over to seven—the one with a giant '7' on the back, it's hard to miss."

Tamara and Ashley moved into the room at a brisk pace that I could only assume was brought on by Naomi's harsh voice. Naomi sighed, "you, Noah, go to… oh, perfect, six just opened up. Go there."

I moved into the room before I could hear her direct Sierra as to where to go, walking up to the chair that had a paper with the number six hanging from the back. There was woman standing just to the left of it, and she flashed me a grin when she saw me standing behind her.

"Well, hi there," she said, her accent apparent. I'd never met a southerner, but I knew that this woman was definitely from somewhere south. "Have a seat and we'll get goin' here."

I nodded, moving into the seat, I found myself staring face to face with the mirror in front of me. The woman came up behind me, staring at me through the reflection for what felt like the longest time before she gave a stiff nod, "alright. So I'm thinking we give your hair a real good chop—right down to here, you see, and then we pick out a dress from the racks and I'll match your makeup to that, sound good?"

I nod, looking at the placement of her hand that was meant to show me where how short my hair would be. Unbraided, it usually fell somewhere near my hips, but this woman was wanting to cut it down to my shoulders, even a little shorter than that. I didn't object, but the thought still made me nervous.

"Right, then—head on over into the other room and let those other girls wash your hair and such," she said, pointing to a door to our left. I stood, already moving towards it, "come on back here when you're done."

When I pushed open the door, I was met by two girls who were rearranging shampoo bottles on a plastic organiser that hung from the wall. Both of them looked at me when I stepped in, and they took only a second to look me over before ushering me inside. The bathtub at the end of the room was in the process of filling with water, steaming up into the air. Bubble bath, or something, had been poured into it, as what seemed like a drastic amount of bubbles were floating on top of the water's surface.

Swallowed my modesty, something I felt like I'd have to do a lot if bath's were going to be like this for the duration of my stay there, I stripped and climbed into the tub, thankful for the bubbles when I did. The tub was short enough that one of the girls could tug my leg out of it without causing my head to sink under the water.

While one girl waxed my legs, a process that was foreign to me and hurt about as much as she forewarned it would, the other washed my hair. I was out of the room within ten minutes, newly dressed in the plush robe they'd had in there. I had no idea what they were planning on doing with the outfit I'd been wearing and that they'd forced me to leave in there, but I quickly forgot about it when the southern woman began cutting off chunks of my hair.

I closed my eyes for most of the haircut, but I was forced to open them when the woman spun my chair around and pulled me to my feet. She led me into yet another room that branched off of this one, only it was full of one thing—dresses. When the door was pushed open, suddenly all I could see was crinoline and fabric, of all colours.

There was a girl standing just inside the door, and she smiled at me, but hers looked just as forced as Naomi's had. "Name?"

"Noah Carins." I said.

She motioned for me to follow her with her finger, and she led me through the sea of racks and dresses until we got to the middle of it all. A metal rack with my name printed on it housed tens of dresses that ranged from as big and extravagant as a ballgown to as simple and elegant as a dinner dress, but all of them were more fancy than anything I'd ever seen. I gaped, watching as the girl riffled through them, talking while her hands moved.

"These are all of the dresses that your maids have made up to date. I'd say anything that looks something like this would go good for tonight," she said, "you guys are going for a classy evening look, so keep it elegant and fancy, but not—oh, honey, go with that one."

She pointed out one that hung from the back of the rack, and she reached out to grab it so I could get a better look. The top was a cream-coloured fabric covered by a lace made out of a colour that was a beautiful cross between lilac and blue, and the bottom was flowy, made out of only the lilac-blue colour. Separating the two halves was a ribbon that tied in the back in a bow, adding to the fact that the dress itself was backless where the cream and lace would have been.

I nodded, unable to say anything else. I took it from the woman's hands and heading back into the makeup room. The southern woman who'd been doing my hair took one look at the dress and then took it from my hands, laying it on the bench just beside her. I watched her every move when she held it, as though I was afraid she would break it. The dress looked too pretty for someone to break, I probably would have cried if she'd spilt anything on it.

Camera's moved about the room getting snapshots of the makeup process, but my eyes were closed for most of it, so I had no idea when the camera's had come by me. The southern woman brushed colours over my eyelids and lips and skin, and though I'd told her I didn't want an overwhelming amount of makeup, I wasn't expecting an au-naturel look either.

When she finished and told me to look, I opened my eyes and stared into the mirror. Looking back at me was a woman with lilac eyelids and perfect lashes, and skin that lacked any imperfection. She'd pulled my newly shortened hair up into a bun at the back of my head, leaving only two coiled strands up near my face. I whistled at the finished look, easily able to admit that right then, I looked beautiful.

"You like it?" The southern woman said, grinning ear to ear.

I nodded furiously, "It looks amazing."

"Good," she said, sighing heavily. She grabbed the dress from the bench that she'd put it on and told me to run and get changed behind one of the curtains at the back, and that's what I did. I made quick work of pulling off the robe and shrugging the dress on instead. I stepped out with the ribbon untied, asking one of the women nearby to help me with it. When she was done, I stepped over in front of the wall-sized mirror and shook my head at the girl who looked back.

A woman came over and asked me what size my feet were, and when I did, she left for a second or two. When she came back, she was holding cream coloured heels that I knew would cause me trouble walking in. Still, I slipped them into my feet and let out a breath.

I looked in the mirror again, and I felt breathless. I felt like exactly what my mother had called me. I felt like a princess.

When Tamara came into the drawing room, I felt like I'd been sitting there alone for ages. The moment her eyes met mine, she gave me a heart warming smile and started towards me.

She fell onto the couch beside me and let out a breath, grinning. I laughed, looking her over, "you look beautiful."

She looked down at the orangey-red dress that clung to her figure and smiled, "yeah? Thanks. You do, too."

All around us, there were girls sitting and sparking conversation with those around then. Sierra sat tucked away in the corner, talking to no one at all. She looked more like she was assessing every other girl in the room.

We'd been led into the room after our makeovers were finished, and now we were all just awaiting further instructions. It was a room full of girls who were dressed up, head to toe, for a ball, and I had yet to find out why.

The room was big enough that even when all 35 girls were sitting in it, it didn't feel crammed, but I found myself quickly growing bored while we waited. Tamara toyed with a curled strand of her hair, and just to the left of her, a girl was tracing the shadow casted by the sun on the couch.

When Naomi came into the room a few moments later, every head in the room whipped towards her like a switch had gone off. The woman looked unfazed by the sudden attention—if anything, she looked content with it. She made her way to the middle of the room, just in front of Tamara and I, and cleared her throat.

"Tonight, you girls will have a very busy evening." Naomi said, "first on our agenda is a tour, which we will be separating into groups for. After you're your is done you ladies will be led to the gardens, where the interviews for the The Selection television program will be happening, and then just after that you will have dinner.

"The dinner is the reason that you ladies have been dressed up as you have. You will be dining in the dining hall with the Royal family this evening." The buzz that went through the room when Naomi said this was enough to drown out her words completely, "Each and every one of you must be on your best behavior. You will have an hour or so before dinner to have a small session with me of table manners, and then you will be led into the room. After dinner, we will go to the ballroom, where tonight's special episode of the Capitol Report is being filmed."

Tamara leaned towards me, "That is a busy day."

"That is a nerve-wracking day," I countered, and she nodded.

While Naomi's silence lasted, the girls in the room faded into conversation yet again. I overheard most of them talking about the Prince, and how excited they were to finally meet him. Personally, I didn't feel excited so much as about to throw up.

Naomi separated the group into groups of seven based on where they were sitting in the room, meaning Tamara and I ended up in the same group. One by one, each group left the room, led by one of who I assumed were Naomi's disciples, as they all seemed to answer to her. Tamara and I trailed behind a man who walked much, much slower than Naomi had, which I was grateful for.

The palace really was more like a maze than anything else. I doubted that I would remember much from the tour, as the further we went, the more there was to remember. The grand staircase was the only one in the entire building that could get someone from the first floor to the fourth floor, all of the others interchanged between only two different floors at a time. The west wing, the guests wing, was more or less completely dedicated to us and the rest of the competitors in the Selection for the duration of our stay, aside from the fourth floor, which held the library and something else that I couldn't remember.

We were advised to just avoid the south wing's second and third floors completely, as one had the rooms of both Prince Roman and his younger sister Olivia were on the second, and above that were the chambers of the King and Queen. If we were ever caught sneaking around on either of those sections without reason, it would be grounds for immediate dismissal from the Selection, and maybe even worse.

The tour ended in the west wing, in which we were told to find our own rooms and then come back to meet our tour guide, who's name I'd already forgot, within ten minutes. Tamara and I went our separate ways then, running past and reading the names that were printed on each door.

Mine ended up being on the 1st floor, just a bend or two from the west exit, which led to the gardens. I had less than a problem with that, as I figured there would probably be times when I'd need to get air, or something of that sort. I pushed open the door to the room and felt a smile creep onto my face.

The bed that sat in the middle of the room was huge—big enough to fit three or four of the one that I slept in back home—and the room itself was even bigger. The walls were painted a soft grey that fit well with the black painted furniture that occupied the rest of the room. There was a small black leather couch in the corner of the room, placed just under the window. I moved to look out, smiling at the view of the roses and tulips that sat just across a small bit of grass. Just behind the flower bed, a line of tall, bushy tree's blocked my full view of the chaos that was happening just behind it, but I figured whatever it was had to do with The Selection, the television program.

I left my room and ran back up the stairs to meet the group after I was done looking around, and when all of us were there, we moved down towards where I'd been before, out the West exit and into the gardens.

Someone had lain a carpet on the grass that begun just outside the door and continued on until the television set up that sat just in front of a bed of miscellaneous flowers that I couldn't name. there was a tent set up there, as well, with tens of chairs under it that I supposed were for us.

Tamara and I walked side by side on the carpet—something that I quickly became grateful for when I tried walking on the grass in my heeled shoes and nearly fell.

When we slid in two chairs under the tent, she counted the windows on the second floor and pointed her room out to me, "I think it's that one."

I laughed, confidently pointing at the first window next to the West doors, "Mine's there."

"First floor?" Tamara said, shivering, "I wouldn't be able to live with the first floor—and so close to the doors? No way. I'd demand a new one."

I frowned, looking back at the window, "why? What's wrong with it?"

"The rebels," Tamara said, dropping her voice as if even just mentioning them was a felony, "what if they ever got on the grounds? There are only four doors that they could choose, and your room is right next to one."

I snorted, but I couldn't deny the slight bit of fear that hit me after she finished speaking. Still, I brushed it off, "It'll be fine, because the rebels won't get in."

Tamara shrugged, but she had nothing left to say on the matter.

Slowly, girls began making their way out under the tent and filling up the seats under it. I saw the host of the show come out of the palace soon after, the woman who was dressed in her signature black dress and heels. She took a seat in one of the two chairs that sat just in front of the camera that was just in front of us.

The director turned back to us and looked down at the paper in his hands, "Alright, girls. This part isn't live, but it'd still do you good not to mess up. Call it practise for the Report tonight, which, might I remind you, is live. First up is Quinn Bealtey."

One by one, the director called girls up out of their seat so that they could move and sit next to the host, who's name I still didn't know. I listened carefully to the questions she asked—thought they were different each time, they revolved around the same overall things. Are you excited to be at the Palace? What's your favorite part so far? Have you met the prince? When are you meeting the prince?

When it was time for me, I stood and made my way over, sitting across from the host in the leather chair they'd had out. She smiled at me, and I offered a smile back. Her voice sounded a little different in person than it did on T.V., but that probably could have been blamed on my televisions speakers at home.

"So, Noah, how are you doing today?" She asked, crossing her legs.

I smiled, "I'm going good, thanks. It's been a fun day."

The answer had been rehearsed more than a few times while I'd been waiting for my turn underneath the tent.

"That's good to hear," she said, leaning forwards a little, "so, tell me, it must be a little strange for you, right? Going from the apartment you lived in before as a Six, to here?"

She waved her arms at our surroundings, and I nodded slowly. I felt like how I had when Mrs. King had accidentally backhanded me with her comment, but this felt more like I was being singled out than undermined. I took a breath, choosing my words carefully, "It is a little weird. I haven't been here that long, obviously, but I'm really excited to be here and living in this beautiful palace. It's definitely not something I thought I would have been doing a month ago."

"I bet," the host said, laughing, "and, of course, seeing Prince Roman probably ups the scale of the place, too, eh?"

I hesitated, and I knew that that was my mistake. The host's eyebrow twitched up, and I scrambled for something to say. "Yeah, sure. Uh, I mean, it's his house, so of course he'll be here."

"Right," she said, pausing, "are you looking forward to meeting him tonight?"

I swallowed. I knew what I was supposed to say to that, but the answer that I actually had was much, much different. I settled for a half-truth. "I'm nervous about it, but I'm really excited for the food."

The host laughed, "that's right, you're meeting him over dinner, aren't you?"

I nod, and she laughs again, though I couldn't see why it was funny. She looked back at the director, and then at me, "well, thanks for talking with me Noah, is was great to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." I said before standing and making my way back to the tent.

I slid onto my seat beside Tamara and dropped my face into my hand, careful not to touch any of my eye makeup while I did. Tamara stifled a laugh, trying hard to hold it back, "It was really good, aside from that one part where you said 'it's his house, so he'll be here too'. You sounded kind of… well, I don't know, but it wasn't good."

"Oh, hush."