Saturdays were the one day a week in which the selected were free of all of their selection duties, and I didn't think it came fast enough. When I woke up in the morning—all on my own, and not by Penelope shaking me—it felt blissful.

I dressed in the simplest dress that was offered in my closet, and I didn't let Hannah so much as step within a meter of me with the makeup. She was something of a prodigy in that department, and she tended to take a while to work her magic on my face. I was out of the room before she'd even finished digging through the drawers.

Tamara was awake and sitting on the floor of her room when her maid opened her door and let me in. Sprawled across the wooden floor boards in front of her were clips of ribbon and plastic gems, all surrounding a home-made card. She looked up at me when I stepped into her room, and she smiled, "Oh, hi."

"Hey," I said, moving to sit in front of her. I was careful not to step on any of the pieces that were surrounding her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making a card," she said, holding up the work in progress. She'd cut different sizes of paper, glueing them on top of each other to make a border. Mom was written in fancy, cursive letters that'd been written in paint, and was incredibly impressive. If I tried to write with a paintbrush, I knew it'd go horribly wrong. "My mom's birthday is next week, and I'm thinking—well, hoping—I'll be here for it, so I'm mailing it to her. Is it bad that I'm hoping I'll be across the country for my mom's birthday?"

I laughed, picking up one of the extra snippets of ribbon and tying it around my wrist. The orange looked horrid against the purple of my dress. "I'm sure the circumstances make it okay."

"Yeah, probably." She said, grinning. She glued a few more jewels to the outside of the card before she pulled it open and began writing on the inside—with a pen, this time. "Did you know they have a pool here? Like, and indoor one?"

I shrugged, "Doesn't seem all that surprising."

"You should ask your maids to make you a swimsuit, and we can check it out," Tamara said, "I've already asked mine to."

"Sounds good," I said, smiling. I watched Tamara write, admiring the swoops in her letters. My writing would have looked like a tragedy next to hers. I almost forgot about why I'd come to her room while I was watching. I perked up, having remembered. "Oh, guess what I did last night."

Tamara gave me a funny look, "Slept?"

"Well, yes," I said, letting out a laugh. "And went on a date with prince Roman."

Tamara grinned, dropping the plastic jewels she'd had in her hands to reach out and grab my arm. She looked even more excited than me, and I was beginning to think that she was just always excited. When she pulled her arm away, there were small bits of glue on my arm where the tips of her fingers had been. "Oh, that's so exciting! What'd you do? Tell me all about it."

I wet my lips, thinking back to when we'd been up on the roof. I shrugged, "He took me to the roof, and we talked. We were only up there for, like, an hour."

"The roof?" Tamara repeated. She took on a quizzical expression, "Are you even allowed up there?"

I snorted, "I don't even think he is."

"Oh, that's so.." Tamara paused, her eyes darting around the floor, "that's so romantic. And all I got was a walk in the gardens."

I laughed, moving so I sat cross-legged. Tamara looked down at the card again just long enough to finish writing her name at the bottom. She looked down at it with a smile. I sighed, watching her draw around it with liquid glue and then cover it with silver glitter. The card had so many colours and sparkles, you'd have think it was done by a child—but the lines were all too clean and organised for it to have been done by a child.

Tamara stood, and a wave of glitter fell off the skirt of her dress and onto the floor. She gasped, looking over at her maid and frowning, "Sorry."

Her maid smiled, "I'll clean it up when you're finished. Don't worry, miss."

Tamara put the card on her dresser, pinning the edges down with a photo frame and a candle. She turned back around with her hands on her hips. I pushed myself back up onto my feet and looked down at the mess of ribbons and such on the floor. I untied the orange ribbon I'd tied to my wrist and dropped it onto the pile.

Tamara and I left her room and made our way into the drawing room while her maid swept up the pile she'd left on the floor. That room had quickly become the room everyone seemed to migrate to whenever they were bored. When we walked through the door, there were already ten girls inside, all separated into two groups that sat at opposite ends of the room.

I followed Tamara to one of the groups, and they made room for us in their circle. I recognised most of them—Quinn, Ashley, Isabelle, Marla and Kaylee—the other two, I didn't know.

The moment Tamara and I sat down, Kaylee started talking, keeping her tones hushed. She looked like a child on Christmas. "He sent seven of us home this morning. Seven. We're a week and a half into this and he's already sent a third of us away."

It was easy to see that Kaylee was ecstatic about having gossip more than the fact that seven of us were gone. My first impression of her was that she was a nice person, but she was also a terrible gossip. Anyone who told her anything wanted it to get around the group.

Across the circle, Isabelle frowned, "I'm kind of scared—there's only twenty of us left. That's 10 people left until the elite—one in every two people will be gone."

"There's eight of us sitting here right now," Marla said, looking around at everyone. When she met my eyes, I saw how sad she looked. "Doesn't that mean four of us will be gone?"

The group grew quiet for a second, and I swallowed. I looked at the group that sat at the other end of the room and took note of the people that were standing amongst it. Harriet was there, and I wondered if maybe we'd just gotten off on the wrong foot, because she seemed to be smiling and laughing with the rest of them just fine.

Something about the fact that they were smiling and laughing made me feel weary about them though, because this was the biggest news that'd come about the selection in days, and I would have been shocked if they weren't talking about it. It seemed almost sinister to be laughing about it.

Quinn cleared her throat, her eyes on the window behind Kaylee's head, her fingers were running themselves through the strands of her brown hair. "I hate to say it, but I really hope it's some of you guys and not me."

A laugh rolled through the people around us, and Quinn smiled, but it looked forced. I'd known most of these girls for less than a week, but when you spend hours together everyday, you get to know them fast. I knew that when any of us left—be it me or one of them—I'd be sad.

From the other end of the room, one of the girls laughed a little too loudly for it to have been natural. Half of our circle looked up and over at them, only to see them all looking at us. Tamara leaned into me and swallowed, "Do you feel this tension or is that just a me thing?"

"Oh, no," I said, nodding. "There's tension."

"I feel like they're talking about us," Marla said, turning back away from the other group and pursing her lips. "Does anyone else feel like they're talking about us?"

"They're definitely talking about us," Kaylee concluded, frowning. "Like, in the kind of way that they want us to notice."

Ashley shook her head, "If Roman picks one of them to be Queen, I'm going to be really upset. I mean, don't get me wrong, if it's not my name on that wedding contract then I'm still going to be upset, but I'm going to be really, really upset if it ends up being someone like Janice Clarke."

I frowned, looking back over my shoulder at the girls. I hadn't seen her before, but I did then. Janice was sitting on the couch with a grin plastered to her face in the middle of the group. She didn't look like anyone I should have a problem with, but, then again, neither did Harriet. I turned back to our group, "What's so wrong with Janice?"

"Oh," half of the girls around me said, in a way that made my eyes go wide. It was not a good "oh".

"She was on the plane with me and Izzy on the way here, you know, cause we're both from the mainland," Quinn started, rolling her eyes. "She was so rude to all of the guards and don't even get me started on how she treated Leah. I mean, I get that some two's have problems with people from lower castes, but…"

"Janice dropped some of the food she'd brought up on the plane and it got everywhere," Isabelle said, dropping her voice to whispers, "and she woke Leah up and told her to clean it. She said it was a sixes job, not hers."

When Isabelle and Quinn stopped talking, I realized why I had a reason to hate Janice. I was a six, just like Leah, and that was no way to treat someone just because they were from a lower caste. I swallowed, feeling my blood boil under my skin. I'd taken a lot of crap from people over the years because of my caste, but for some reason hearing about someone else's maltreatment because of it made me that much angrier.

The girls dropped the aggravating topics soon after that and started talking about the prince and all his glory, and the things he'd done with them on dates. At this point, he'd taken almost every girl on one, and it kind of stung to know I was one of the last ones. Still, it probably didn't sting as much as it did for Kaylee, who had yet to go on a date.

I left after a few minutes, not feeling the conversation. While I was making my way through the halls back towards my room, the sound of a piano caught my ears, and I changed course towards it's origin. Through the door that was open just a crack, I could hear someone who was obviously talented pressing down on the keys inside. I pushed it open just a little and saw Olivia Séear sitting in front of a grand piano.

The room was full of tens of other kinds of instruments, from guitars to things that I had no idea what to name. She was facing away from me, and so I stepped into the room without worrying she'd see me and be disturbed. Her hands moved in practiced movements across the keys, and it amazed me that a thirteen-year-old girl could know how to play like that.

When she hit the final key in the song, I lifted my hands to clap. She jumped at the sound, whipping her head around and looking at me with wide eyes. She let out a heavy breath when she saw me, laughing, "You scared me."

I shrugged, motioning towards the instrument, "That was amazing."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "I've been practicing that song for months, so I'm glad. How'd you find me in here?"

"The door was open a little," I said, "and the sound of beautiful music drew me in. Play something else."

Olivia's smile grew only a little bit wider, and she turned back around to face the piano. I watched as she flipped the page on the book that sat above the keys, and she begun playing again. The song was similar to the other piece, but also different—both were classical, and she had to play two different things wit both of her hands, which I thought must have been incredibly complicated. Olivia, however, played without fault.

Her shoulders moved with her fingers, and she looked totally absorbed in the music. Looking around the room, I wondered how many of the instruments she knew how to play.

When she finished the second song, I lifted my hands to clap again, and I jumped when another person clapped behind me. Both Olivia and I turned to look at the newcomer, and she grinned, "Mom!"

I blinked, watching as the Queen moved further into the room. I dropped into a curtsey, as Naomi had told us to do if we every found ourselves in a room with either her or her husband. She shook her head art me, "No need for that. Stand up."

I stood up straight as Olivia lifted her legs onto the other side of the bench so her whole body faced us. For the time being though, my eyes were glued on the Queen. Her hair was long and black, just like both of her children's, and her eyes were green like Roman's, but far different from Olivia's blue ones. The Queen was beautiful, and her presence made me feel small.

"How'd I do?" Olivia asked, looking at her mom.

"Wonderfully." She said, smiling. She turned and looked at me, "Who's your friend?"

"Noah," Olivia replied, swinging her feet under the bench. "She's cool."

I laughed, thinking about how I'd have to include the fact that the princess told the queen was cool in my letter to my mother.

Queen Rhea turned and smiled at me, "It's nice to meet you, Noah. Your one of the girls in my sons selection? From the east coast, aren't you?"

I was taken aback by the fact that she knew where I was from—even if it was just the general area. I swallowed, "Yes, your majesty. Allens."

"Allens." She repeated, "really?"

"Yes," I said, smiling, "actually, you went to school with my mother when you were both very young. She brags about it all the time."

The queen smiled, "Did I really? Well, small world."

"It is that." I said, laughing.

My eyes drifted up towards the crown that sat on top of Queen Rhea's head, covered in jewels and diamonds that glittered in the light that shone in from the windows. Neither Olivia or Roman wore their crowns as often as I'd noticed the king and queen did—the only time I'd ever seen Roman and Olivia wearing them had been on the Capitol Report. The king and queen seemed to be wearing them all the time.

I wondered if wearing a crown full time was a condition of becoming queen. I knew that if it was, then I was an obvious bad choice for the job. I dropped things out of my own hands all of the time, there was no way I'd be able to balance a tiara on my head while I walked and went about my day.

Olivia looked up at me and whispered, "You're staring."

I blinked, jumping back from the sudden daydream. I swallowed, "Oh, sorry."

"Don't be," Olivia said, waving my words off as though they were meaningless, "she get's it all the time."

I laughed, "I'm sure."

Queen Rhea moved forwards and roped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. After a second or two, I got the feeling I was intruding, and I excused myself, practically flying out the door and back into the hall.

I was only a few steps away when Olivia's music picked up again, and I heard the piano keys all the way until I rounded the corner towards the west wing. A little part of me was jealous that Olivia had the privilege of playing such an instrument, but it was a feeling that was easy to ignore. There were lots of things in Olivia's life that mine didn't entail that were easy to envy.

Back in my room, my maids weren't there. I considered calling for them with the button we'd been given, if only for some company, but I decided not to in the end. They were probably working on something and didn't need a distraction.

Instead, I sat myself down at the makeup table and pulled out the letter for my mother that I'd only just stared. I wrote about how she should flip through the magazines at one of the book stores to see the photos of me at the fountain, and then about Olivia Séear. It felt a little weird to be writing to my mom about my life—she was my best friend, and usually we'd sit in the living room and I'd tell her all about it.

It felt incredibly impersonal not to be able to see her when she read my words, but that was life. There wasn't a phone that we had access to, though all I really wanted to do was phone her. It still wouldn't be seeing her, but at least I'd hear her voice.

I finished off the letter and stepped out into the hall, catching one of the maids from the next-door room just as she was leaving. I asked her to drop it off at the postal office—because, of course, the palace had one of its own—and she happily obliged.

I was about to turn back into my room when I heard one of the other doors open in the hall, and a giggle sounded. It wasn't the type of giggle that someone did when they were laughing, though, it was the kind of giggle that came out when someone was flirting.

Not two seconds later, Roman stepped out of the doorway, doing up the buttons of his shirt while he walked. I squinted at him, waiting until he looked up and saw me standing just a few feet away. When he looked up, he stopped walking and grinned.

"Noah," He said, finishing off the last of the buttons on his top. "This is kind of awkward."

"No, not awkward." I said, shaking my head. "I'd have said funny or enlightening."

"Enlightening?" He repeated, "How so?"

"Oh, I can't tell you," I shook my head. I'd known he was the kind of guy to make out with girls in dark hallways, but coming out of a girls' room half-clothed was not a good thing, either. "I feel like you'd have me hanged if I called you the things I'm thinking."

He snorted, starting to walk again. He was heading outside through the doors next to my room, but just as the guards pushed the doors open for him, he turned back to me and winked, "You can think as highly or as lowly of me as you'd like, Sweetheart. Just remember that I don't care what people think."

The doors closed behind him, and I moved back into my room. His words felt like knives that he'd thrown out to try and protect himself. Despite what he'd said, I did think that Roman cared what people thought about him. I didn't think he's go out and cry over one persons opinion, but I knew there was some part of him that felt bad when people talked ill of him. He could put on a brave face now, but last night his shields had dropped for a minute or two and I'd seen him as himself, and I knew.

Roman might have been arrogant, rude and a hundred other things, but there was only one side of him that I was looking forward to meeting. It was the side of him that laughed so hard his eyes crinkled and that didn't try so hard to be bad. I'd only seen if once so far, but that was enough to know it was there.