The next day, I woke long before any of my maids had snuck into my room. I'd gotten used to the abrupt awakening that came with Penelope throwing open the curtains and the sunlight pouring over my eyes, but not today. Today, I was up and out of bed long before the sun had touched the sky.

I slid out from beneath the covers and made my way into the bathroom, running a bath while I washed my face in the sink. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but stare for a moment longer than what was necessary. I'd seen myself in makeup and fancy dresses more often then I did me as my normal self, and it was refreshing to see me, the real me, staring back for once. Once, this had been all I was. I was almost surprised that I recognized myself.

I stepped into the bath and reminisced in the fact that, for the first time in over a week, I was alone. It seemed no matter where I was in the palace, there was always someone there with me. Be it my maids, a guard or one of the other girls, someone was always watching. I'd been craving a moment to myself almost as much as I was another bowl of ice cream.

Not wanting to push my luck, I finished my bath quickly, making a few splashes on the floor next to the tub as I dried off and pulled my nightgown back onto my figure. Hannah liked to pick out my dresses for the day, and it was a joy I wasn't about to deny her of. She had an eye for clothes, and more than that, she loved them. Of course, she'd also handsewn most of the dresses in my closet, so I felt they belonged to her more than they did to me.

Just as I was crouching down to the floor of the bathroom to wipe away the water spills, I heard the three of them shuffle into the room. Immediately upon seeing I was not in my bed, I heard Hannah call my name warily.

"In here," I called back, still drying the ground. Hannah pushed the door to the bathroom open only a short second later, gasping when she saw me cleaning the floor.

"Oh, no, miss." She said, shaking her head. "I can do that, really."

I shook my head right back, keeping a firm hold on the towel. "It's my mess, I can clean it."

"But, it's not right." She said timidly, still standing in the doorway. When I turned to look back at her, I almost laughed at the look on her face. She looked completely and utterly unsure of what to do.

I stood, satisfied the floor was dry, and dropped the damp towel in the laundry hamper next to the doorway. "There's nothing improper about it, Hannah. I'm a maid, too."

"You were." Francine corrected me, standing over my bed and straightening the duvet over the sheets. She moved onto the pillow next, smoothing them over and lining them up just right. "You're a three now. Didn't you say you wanted to be a doctor?"

"One day," I said, frowning. "But aspirations aside, a man telling me I've moved up to a three doesn't change the fact that I was raised a six. I know all about working and, more than that, working for people who expect you to clean their messes and tidy their rooms. I'm not going to be like that."

The words came from memories of the Kings, Sharron King most of all. I'd spent the better part of two years working in their house, treated more like vermin than a human being. I wasn't going to be that kind of person, no matter how many castes I moved up, if only because I knew what it felt like to be on the other side of that coin.

Hannah looked at me, and slowly a smile replaced her shock. "I hope you win."

"What?" I said, taken aback.

"I hope you win," Hannah repeated, nodding softly. The rest of us were looking at her, then, listening. She looked to the ground for a moment, thinking, and when she looked up again there was a glimmer of determination behind her eyes. "You'd make an excellent Queen. I'm sure of it."

"I don't want to be Queen."

"Oh, hush." Francine scolded as she tugged the curtains apart. The light of dawn flooded the room, and she rested her hands on her hips, looking over at me. She was only a few months older than me, but right then, she reminded me of my mother when I told her I didn't like what she'd made for dinner. Understanding and scolding all at once. "If I had the chance, I'd sell my right foot for that crown. And not just because of the jewels. Queen Rhea came from the lowest caste the throne had ever seen, and you come from even lower. Can you imagine the things you could do? The rules you could change? The people you could help?"

I frowned, biting my lip. Of course, I'd considered what being Queen would mean. I hadn't entertained the idea long enough to really think it through, not like Francine obviously had, but just enough to think of myself with a crown and laugh. Francine was right, though; a six on the throne would change everything. The people who had ignored our voices for too long would be forced to hear them, because I could make them.

I thought about it for a minute, and then I swallowed a laugh, remembering that the throne came with Roman, and he'd proven himself to be infuriating at best. There were times when I thought he was more than the tabloids made him out to be, like when we'd gone out to the roof or when he spoke of his sister, but there were a hundred more instances that made me think otherwise. Like when he was sneaking out of other girls' rooms or playing with their hair in the halls.

I sighed, "If I could trade places with you, I would."

"I believe that," Francine said softly, and then she moved away from the windows and towards my closet, rifling through the day dresses and pulling one from the mix. It was light green and simple, and when she handed it to me, I revelled in the soft silk of the fabric. When I pulled it onto my figure, she helped me with the buttons on the back before straightening the thin straps that held it up on my shoulders.

Only when Hannah had curled my hair and Penelope had coloured my lips and eyelids did they let me go, and I made my way to the dining hall. There were already a number of girls seated with their hands on their laps and glints of nerves in their eyes. I was a little nervous, too. It seemed no matter how many times we dined with the royal family, it never got any easier. There was always a voice in the back of my mind telling me I would do something wrong, and I would be kicked out of Illéa and shipped to some island in the middle of the ocean. After all, it would be a lot easier to offend the King when I was in the same room as him, as opposed to when I was at home on the other side of the country.

I locked eyes with Tamara as I took my seat and I flashed her a quick smile. Out of all of the girls I'd come to know over the course of the Selection, Tamara was my favourite. Though I'd definitely grown closer to some of the other girls, like Quinn, who spoke just enough French that we'd had a pleasant conversation in the language the other day, and Leah, with whom I'd bonded over the hardships of being a six, I still felt that much more connected to Tamara. I figured it was because even if the others were my friends, any one of them would pick winning over me, and Tamara wasn't like that. She cared about winning, but I think she valued the friendships she'd made here far more.

The last few stragglers took their seats, and though the room was packed full of girls whispering and gossiping to one another, I stayed silent. To my left, Harriet Fordes was still as calm and quiet as ever, and I'd learnt enough from our first and only interaction to know she had no interest in playing nice with me. To my right, Leticia Rodriguez was mumbling about which silverware to use when and reciting the exact words Naomi had used when she'd taught us. I didn't know much about Leticia, except what I'd learnt from the tabloids and other girls. She was from Honduragua, one of the southernmost provinces, she was raised as a three, so her caste hadn't changed when she'd joined the Selection, and all three of the girls she'd flown to Angeles with had already been dismissed.

When the King and Queen entered, every one of us rose to our feet and dropped into a curtsey. Prince Roman and Princess Olivia walked in just behind them, engaged in a conversation of their own. We took our seats again only when King Leon told us to, and it wasn't long after that that the food was brought out.

Breakfast was relatively quiet and quick. After what felt like no time at all, the King and Queen dismissed themselves, and their children not long after. As soon as the Royals were gone, Ms. Richards entered the room and ushered us all after her into the hallway.

We followed her into a room near the back of the palace, packed full of tables and chairs that all faced a chalkboard at the front. At the back, a window that featured a view of the pond in the garden made me smile. I could just make out Princess Olivia and her bright pink dress sitting at the edge of it, her feet dipped in the water.

When everyone was seated, Naomi handed a wad of magazines to Leah with the instructions to take one and pass it back, and one by one the magazines went around the room. I watched as Janice took one and went to hand the pile back to Quinn, only to drop it on the ground next to her table. She shrugged, looking more smug than apologetic, "Whoops."

I scowled, rolling my eyes. If there was one thing I'd learnt about Janice, it was that if you weren't a two, she didn't care about anything you said. And if you were a two, she saw you as competition and didn't like you all the same. I'd learnt as much yesterday when she'd told Sierra her dress made her skin look washed out right before her date with Prince Roman.

When Quinn handed the pile of magazines to Tamara and I, I offered her a meager smile and she gave me one in return. I only looked away when Tamara gasped, blindly handing me one of the prints as she stared down at the one in her hands. Front and center on the cover page was Tamara's photo with Roman from the photoshoot. She turned to me and grinned, ear to ear. "I mean, I'd hoped they'd feature it, but I never thought..."

"You look beautiful in that, Tamara." I said, and I meant it. In the photo, Tamara was smiling wide and completely contradicting Prince Romans brooding character. She looked sweet and gentle, while he looked like... well, a Prince. I couldn't think of another word to describe him.

I flipped through the rest of the magazine for the other photos, finding them sandwiched between two beauty ads in the middle. They'd chosen only eight photos, and of course, Janice's was among them, and much to my own dismay, she looked radiant. Just beside it were the words by popular vote, Miss Clarke is the people's favorite. I rolled my eyes, moving on, and I drew in a sharp breath when I saw it, all too surprised. Just below Janice's photo was my own. Roman and I had been chatting the whole time, and I'd been nervous out of my mind. I was sure every photo had turned out horrible, but apparently, I was very, very wrong.

In the photo, I was looking up at Roman and he was looking down at me, and we were both smiling at something the other had said. His hand was on the small of my back, and mine were linked and held just in front of my figure. With the fountain behind us, it looked glorious, and though there had obviously been some editing done to it, it was still me. That was the hardest part to believe. Just next to the photo on the page, the tabloid had printed a few words that made my smile faltered just a little: "Miss Noah Carrins is one of only two sixes in the competition, but she's made it clear she doesn't think this hinders her". No matter what I did or how nice I looked, people would always just see me as a six in the Selection. It was both annoying and aggravating all at the same time.

"Oh, I love that." Tamara said, pointing down at the photo. "You two look so cute."

"I think I must have forgotten what a jerk he is," I whispered. "Just for a second."