We met Naomi the ballroom later that day, ready to practice the dances she'd taught us before. I was far from confident in my skills, or my lack there of, but I could only hope I'd get better in time of the ball. We'd been told only a few hours earlier that the Queen's talk of hosting a ball had become more than just talk, and that the event itself would take place in little over a week, when the Queen of France and her two children would join the bustle of the palace for the weekend.

Naomi had yet to give us a speech on how to interact with them, though she'd told us just enough that I knew we'd be seeing them on more then one occasion. There was not only the ball to look forward to, but the garden lunch that would occur the morning they got there, a welcoming as Naomi had put it.

There were an array of Guards already waiting in the ballroom when we walked in, along with Prince Roman himself. Naomi joined the group and smiled, "Prince Roman, how good of you to join us again."

"How could I not?" He said, grinning.

Naomi laughed, which was a sound I did not expect. With her hair drawn as tight as it was and her clothes as pristine as they were, seeing her laugh like that almost made me uncomfortable. "Okay, girls. Grab a partner and let's get started."

Yvette was quick to move on Roman, but I couldn't help but notice the way he grimaced when her hand latched onto his. Tamara snorted, "A little bird told me they're having a date later today."

"Oh, really?" I said, one eyebrow raised. She nodded. "I wonder what they'll be doing."

Tamara snorted, "The bird told me that, too. They're having a picnic for lunch. How quaint."

"Pray tell, Tamara," I said, smiling. "Where do I get a bird like that of my own?"

She chuckled, "I just have friends in all the right places, I guess."

The two of us made our way over to the small group of guards that still stood at the end of the room, curtsying in front of two of them and making our way back into the middle of the floor. Not without feeling a little awkward, I lifted one hand onto the shoulder of the boy in front of me and left the other hanging out to my side, and Naomi pressed play on the stereo in the corner of the room.

Just like that, music flooded the ballroom. The guard grabbed my free hand in his own, and I looked down at my feet, trying my best to keep up with the steps. The guard I danced with let out a light laugh, "It's harder when you think about it."

"Believe me, it's better that I do," I said, still looking down at my feet. "Better for your toes, I mean."

He laughed again, but said nothing more on the matter. The song slowed to an end, and I pulled my arms back to my side. A few pairings away from me, Tamara stood with the guard she'd been dancing with, smiling up at him and giggling about something he'd said.

Naomi cleared her throat, commanding the room once again, "Alright, well done. We'll add in a few turns now."

I groaned, and the guard next to me laughed once again. He spoke under his breath, "Don't worry, I'll lead."

"Okay, I trust you're better then I am," I whispered back.

Naomi moved to press play on the stereo again, and I moved my arms back to the position they'd been in before. I counted the steps in my head, and even though I knew it was coming, I almost let out a squeal when he twirled me out and then back in. I caught myself smiling.

"This is a lot more fun then I thought it would be," I said.

He grinned, "I'm glad you think so. You'll be a pro in no time."

"Let's hope," I laughed.

We were dancing for only a short while longer when Roman stalked over, stopping just next to us. The guard's reaction was immediate, his hands dropping away from me and falling to his sides, his stance instantly going still, save for the short bow of his head. Roman cleared his throat, "Mind if I cut in?"

The guard stepped back, his hands behind his back, and made his way over to the girl just next to us who Roman had just left. A beat passed, and Roman's hand replaced his, sliding onto my waist and taking my one hand in his own. I drew in a breath, putting my other hand up on his shoulder.

He moved just as the guard had, only his movements were far sharper and more sure. It made sense, of course. The guard had been practiced, but Roman was a prince; he'd probably spent the first few years of his life learning to waltz, and it was as easy as walking to him.

To me, it was foreign. Like learning another language.

I stared down at my feet, even more nervous about stepping on his toes then I'd been with the boy before. He laughed, "It's harder when you look at your feet."

"So I've been told," I said, simply, though I didn't move my head. "But if you value your feet, I suggest you leave me to it."

He laughed again, his hand coming up off of my waist and under my chin, pushing it up so I looked at his face rather than the floor. His fingers moved back to my back and he grinned, "Trust me."

My eyebrow twitched, but I said nothing. After a few more beats of the song, he whirled me around, and my dress swung around my ankles. When he pulled me back to his side, I stumbled, but his arms were sturdy enough that it made no difference. I swallowed, "A little warning next time, maybe. Your Highness."

He grinned, "Good thing you've still got a week until the ball."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, frowning. My eyes narrowed.

He shrugged, and my one hand moved up with his shoulders. "Just that you'll need every bit of practice you can get."

I rolled my eyes and he chuckled, "Again with the rolling your eyes. You know, the only other person who's done that to me as often as you have is my sister. And she only gets away with it because she's related to me."

I snorted, "I feel like you can handle it."

"Oh, I can," he said. "But can you?"

"What?" I said, chuckling. "Are you going to have me hanged for looking at the ceiling?"

"I can think of other ways to teach you a lesson," he said simply, and I missed a step, tripping over the heel of my one foot. He caught me before I could hit the ground, but the movement caught the eye of Naomi, who shot me a look that said do better. I swallowed.

It was only a short while before the song ended again, and Roman stepped away, "Well, I should continue my rounds. I expect to see you've improved at the ball."

"I sure hope so," I said, biting my tongue. There was a list of things I'd have rather said right then, but with the room as quiet as it was, none of them left my lips. Roman bowed, a small gesture, and stepped over to Sierra and her partner.

Sierra's old partner, a short guard with blonde hair, stepped away from them and over to me, and the song began once again. I fell into the habit of the steps, doing my best to look up rather then at the floorboards, and the song began to be more annoying than anything else. The more we listened to it, the more I wanted to never hear it again.

Almost six plays later, Naomi excused us, and Tamara and I made our way out into the garden. We sat at the edge of the pond, where I'd met Olivia only a few days earlier, and while I took of my shoes and set them on the stone next to me, dipping my feet in the water below, Tamara kept hers on and her legs crossed in front of her.

Tamara and I had spoken about a lot of things throughout our time together, but never once had I asked her about her caste. I was sure she knew mine, she'd read the magazine portfolio's on each of the girls in the selection backwards and forwards while we'd been on the plane, but only as we were sitting there in the garden did I realize I didn't know much about her.

I tilted my head up to the sun, "Tamara... what caste were you? Before the selection."

"Four," she said simply. I nodded, thinking to myself. Fours were workers, in their own sort, though their jobs tended to be a lot more glamorous then cleaners or waitresses, like the sixes. "My mom is a chef, and my dad is a farmer. We live on this little ranch in the back corner of the city. It's nice."

"You must miss it," I said, thinking of how much I missed my own house back home, even though it was nothing close to something like a ranch.

She nodded, "I miss my sisters more than anything. And my horse. His name is Zephyr."

"You have a horse?" I said, almost in disbelief.

She grinned, looking over at me and nodding. "Yeah. My parents always say I learned to ride before I learned to walk."

"Jeez," I said, shaking my head. "That sounds great."

She shrugged, looking back down at the water. It was clear, and at the bottom of the pond, I could just make out the gleaming rocks that had likely been put there to make it look nicer. After a minute, she spoke again, "Tell me about your life. Before all this."

I didn't know what to say at first, thinking that there wasn't much to say. It took me longer then it should have to come up with a response. "Nothing much. We had a small house in the middle of the city. My mom is a maid, just like me."

Tamara looked over at me and frowned, "You have a job?"

"Yeah," I said. "Most sixes do."

Across the pond, a fish jumped above the surface, rippling the water where it landed. I gasped, nearly pulling my feet out of the water in recoil. I hadn't been lying when I'd told Olivia I didn't like fish. Ever since I was four and my mom took me to the lake near our house to swim and one of them brushed my ankles, I hated them. Beady eyes and all.

"So, who do you think is going to win?" Tamara said, quietly. She'd turned to the side and stretched out her feet along the stone, and the toes of her heels were clacking together just a foot or so away from my legs.

I shrugged. We hadn't seen Roman enough for me to know. "I have no idea. I just really hope it's not Sierra. Or Ashley. I can't say I'm the biggest fan of either of them."

"Can you imagine if Sierra became Queen?" Tamara snorted.

I grimaced, "I think I'd have to move out of the country."

"Maybe we could take refuge in France," she said, thinking. "I'd love to go there, even if I speak about two words of french. Bonjour and- actually, that's it. That's all I know."

I laughed, "I speak enough French for the both of us."

"Good," she said, nodding. After a minute, the both of us barked out a laugh.