I'm still alive, don't worry. Honestly guys, if you guys are still reading this, I'm really sorry. I had life throw me some curveballs I wasn't expecting and I didn't have time to write. At all. But I am not quitting this story. Updates will probably be spaced out, though, so please be aware of that. Thank you all! You guys have been awesome.

The door slid open effortlessly as James slipped into the dark room. He slithered around at the back of the wall, turning his night vision glasses on. Specially crafted by James himself, they were thin enough to look like regular glasses but had the ability to switch into what he called Night Mode by pressing a small button on the right side of the frame. In dark areas objects would look as if a flashlight were pointed on them without the beam from the light of a flashlight being seen from anyone but the wearer of the glasses. James didn't have to worry much about time; he had already shut the security off in this room. He knew nobody would come into this room anytime soon anyway; he'd been watching the camera feed for three days and had only seen one person enter: Carlisle.

The Selected girls had been picked just five days ago, and, contrary to popular rumors, the Selection truly was a lottery. But James was about to make it a very tricky game where he was the manipulator, the man in charge.

The pristine white envelopes sat on top of elegant gold columns that stretched high enough to about James' waist. They were evenly spaced in a wide, half-moon circle. Each letter had a stamp of the Province it was of, the Province's name in fancy letters, and the form of the Selected inside. James lets his gaze travel sideways and, unsurprised, noticed multiple buckets of envelopes lined up in an orderly fashion with the name of the Province painted in neat print. Thousands of envelopes sat untouched in the dark corner, and James realized they would all probably be burned.

Drawing his thoughts back to the task at hand, he reached out to grab one with the stamp of a salmon: Lakedon. The prince rolled his eyes. Laden was a Province big on fishing and ecosystems and being frugal and all that crap James had no time for. Most of them were animal-rights activists who really bothered the young man; they liked to protest (peacefully, of course) practically every week right outside the palace gates. Loudly. Shouting, chants, dance routines, parodies of popular songs, James had seen it all and he knew that if he were hosting a Selection, the Lakedon girl would most likely be gone before the end of the first week. But James didn't disregard this girl: with Lucas' past choice in women, he wouldn't put it past his brother to go for a nature hippie.

Setting the Lakedon envelope back, he picked up the one on the next column. The stamp was one of an iron pick-axe, and the Province name came easily to James: Zuni. Zuni-that was a common name in the palace, too, but this one was slightly less frustrating. Zuni was an important Province economically because of their ruby mining. James had seen the history in files he had stolen: the discovery of ruby made people go insane, flocking to the relatively small area to mine the precious jewel. However, King Tristan, an old, old, old King, ordered that the only ones allowed to mine for the ruby found in Zuni were the people appointed by him. Obviously this caused an uproar, but James really forgot about the rest. It was history, unimportant stuff about stupid, long ago events. He hated learning about how "This Province was founded in..." and "That Province had the most..." It absolutely bored James out of his mind. Why did he have to know the details? Couldn't he just get a summary, like on the back of a book?

Anyway, Zuni was still overpopulated because King Tristan didn't order the non-Zunis to leave, but people were gradually be moved into less populated Provinces like Panama and Hansport, whose identifying stamps were wheat stalks and a cow respectively. They were the main farmers of Illea, providing ninety-five percent of the country's wheat and beef products. As these Provinces came to mind, James looked over at their envelopes, set squarely on their columns, which were next to each other. He stalked over and grasped the smooth gold surface of the Hansport column as the snake of Fear slowly slid and rippled deep in his stomach and constricted his heart.

Could he do this? If he got caught...

James shook it off. He wouldn't get caught, and since he wouldn't get caught, he could only prosper from this decision. Tough ones had to be made and James certainly didn't mind them as much as Lucas. What a wimp, he thought, his face coiling into a disgusted scowl as his brother's face popped up like a beacon in his thoughts. Courage renewed with fury, James opened the Hansport envelope, silently gasping as it opened with a loud, crisp pop. Sliding the ti-folded paper out of the envelope, he inspected the form. He skimmed over the girl's picture, noting she wasn't half-bad in looks. He tilted his head right, then left, over and over again, determining if this would be the form that James would play with. After reading the whole form, he folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. She had a chance, though slim, but it was enough for James to lick the envelope sleeve and shut it back up.

He strutted around the columns with his hands locked behind his back as he peered down at each envelope when he passed by. Tammins, Hundson, Ottaro... He had a feeling, a gut instinct, that these girls would be somewhat competitive. They came from respectable Provinces anyways. He liked to call it his sixth sense, a complex part of his brain somehow knowing things without them being revealed to him. Of course, he was sometimes wrong...

Likely, Waverly, Paloma, Kent-James froze. He got a bad itch at Paloma, like his sixth sense was twitching and stirring up an intense desire to investigate. Walking back a few steps, he gazed suspiciously down at the envelope with perfectly even letters flowing into each other a river's streams that trickled into each other so fluidly. It was just one Province out of thirty-five. What set this one apart?

He stared hard at the envelope for a few seconds before tearing it open and looking eagerly at the girl's form. Much to James' surprise, she seemed...normal. Disappointed in his findings, he set it back. Though she was common, James had a strong intuition she would go far in the competition. He would remember the Paloma girl, for sure, but he didn't feel like it was for a good reason.

Shaking his head, James stalked off and began to open every envelope to look at each Selected's form. Allens, Lakedon, Bonita, Whites-nothing special. The girls all seemed worthy of their positions. St. George, Midston, Dominica, and Atlin were all the same. James growled in frustration; his plan was exploding in front of him. The girls-even if chosen by random-all seemed compatible in some way with Lucas, or so James thought. He was nearing the final columns, and he hadn't found a single girl he could have fun with in his game. She had to be completely unreliable to Lucas, a girl Lucas wouldn't even give two glances to. Sighing, he swiped one off its column, caring less and less about looking at the name of the Province, and looked inside.

The form was...crinkled. Like it had been balled up then flattened out. Lucas was a total neat freak; James remembered when Lucas would get angry with James as kids because he left his toys everywhere. The girl wasn't even looking at the camera, but instead smiling at the ground. Lucas was a stickler for eye contact. He would always win staring contests as kids, and he could stare down anyone in a negotiation. The handwriting was messy and almost unreadable, letters all over the place and hardly forming words. Lucas was a terrible reader anyway (well, compared to James), he wouldn't want to need a magnifying glass to translate scribble into English. Finally he noticed the most important flaw and he knew instantly this girl was it. She would be the vital key in this game, and she rested in James' hands now. Bringing the girl's form and envelope with him, James wandered back over to the buckets and looked for the one labeled with the girl's province. There were at least ten buckets for her province, and James wanded his finger over each bin until he plucked one envelope form the top of one.

Opening, he smiled deviously; this girl was definitely going to go far, he knew it, he felt it. Laughing giddily, he tossed to former Selected's envelope into one of the buckets and brought the new one over to its Province's gold column. Humming a well known song he liked, he carefully placed the envelope where it belonged and waltzed away, turning off and taking off his night glasses. He shoved them carelessly into a pocket and danced (very terribly) out of the dark and silent room.

Unfortunately, James was so caught up in his success he failed to realize how much time had passed; he had set his timer for twenty minutes, expecting an easy swap, but he had been in the Selecting Room for over an hour. His timer must've broken or malfunctioned, yet all this he did not know. James' very meticulously planned schedule was extremely compromised by this time jump; soldiers were making their rounds and worse-Lucas had just finished a meeting across the hall. James was still dancing horrendously and humming a song when he was suddenly interrupted by a deep cough from behind him. Many curse words flashing through his mind, he froze mid-dance with the song caught in a knot in his throat. Eyes wide with surprise and cheeks on fire with embarrassment, he winced as he recognized the voice immediately.

"James, what in the name of Illea are you doing?"

James turned to face his brother, attempting and innocent expression with a sheepish smile. His gaze flashed to his watch, which was still flashing 20:00. He hadn't even started the timer. More curse words flooded his brain as his innocent look became more of a grimace. He laughed nervously and said, "Lucas. Didn't see you there."

"Yes, I can tell. You're usually not so...expressive with your movements." James sighed in annoyance. Sometimes he really hated his brother's uptightness and formal words. Not that he didn't hate anything else, but his elaborate word choice and complex sentence structure were so old. It didn't even sound remotely modern, and Lucas was only twenty-one; if that's how James was expected to act when he turned that old, he was definitely going to break that etiquette rule. Along with many, many others; James didn't find much importance in etiquette standards. To him, etiquette was all about how to beat around the bush, and James tended to be more blunt and direct.

As James looked at his brother now, he could sense his brother's discomfort. Lucas was obviously unsure on how to converse with his only brother with whom he had abandoned almost all contact. Lucas' shoulders were hunched, back straight, form rigid. His jaw was locked and all the while he clenched and unclenched his hands, which rested by his side.

James smoothly responded, "Well, you don't see me enough to know that." A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he saw Lucas blink in shock and wince with hurt. He was real tempted to spout an insult like, Ouch, brother. Need some ice for that burn? or Gee, that was a bad explosion. Did I drop the bomb on you too early? but he held his tongue. He would remain at least somewhat nice for now; it was imperative his beautiful plan came as a shock, just like in the good horror movies. Nobody sees it coming until it's there and the reaction of Oh! or Ah! is automatic. Here, James wanted Lucas to feel completely betrayed and stupid for his obliviousness-and, of course, shocked-and James knew Lucas was terrible at hiding his shock and the emotions that came with it.

Recovering from James' statement, Lucas redirected the conversation: "What were you doing in the Selecting Room?"

James was prepared for this. "I went into the wrong door. I was looking for the room with the big blue sofa and with the painting of the beach-you know, the one Los made?-to take a nap in. You know the room?"

"...Yes, it's through that door," he said, turning and pointing is finger on the other side of the hallway. James smiled and nodded.

"Ah I see. Well, thanks Lucas. I'll just be going now," he smiled at his brother and was walking past him with Lucas grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," he said, and James walked back to face his brother, waiting for a non-sense question about politics or food production or some crap James didn't care much about at that moment. "James, I have a marvelous idea. Would you care to entertain it?" James felt every last drip of happiness drain from his veins and leech into Lucas'.

"Sure..." he drawled suspiciously. "What's your idea?"

"How about we have a classic brother's night, to refresh our kinship bond and to reminisce in old memories as we journey to create new ones?" If Lucas didn't stop talking like one of those snobbish Brits from New Britainia, James was going to slap him.

But...this could be good for James' plan. Flashing a million-dollar smile towards Lucas, he answered, "Sure Lucas. But I've got one condition, okay?" James held up one finger next to his face as he waited for Lucas' response.

Lucas looked absolutely elated at not being rejected and quickly replied, "Of course!"

James gazed at his brother seriously and told him, "You have to stop talking like I'm the King of Italy."

...

There was a moment of silence as the brothers stared at each other before Lucas began laughing-really, really laughing-while James half-heartedly laughed along. The devious man honestly didn't find the statement funny as he was being truthful, but getting close to his brother again was part of his sub-plan, and if that meant James had to pretend to be Lucas' little pet, James would live with it.

After all, they do say keep your friends close and your enemies closer for a reason.

Meanwhile (PoV shift)

Dull eyes watched from behind the curtain as the brothers laughed at a humorless joke. Vivienne kept her eye on the Royals as they walked together, all smiles and laughs as she found herself wishing she could take James' place. Regret flooded into her like a tsunami, and she closed her eyes as she could feel herself become physically ill. She turned and bumped her head on the large glass window and sighed, leaning against the massive pane that had taken forever to clean. The girl was ashamed of slapping the prince-her one escape-and would do anything to turn back time to change her actions.

She had screwed herself over.

Not only that, but she had screwed her family over. She didn't tell them what had happened to her or her plan, but when she had come home that night she had cried so long and hard she fell into a seemingly endless series of vomit fits. Her parents tried their best to draw what was wrong out of her, but if Vivienne was anything, she was stubborn.

Her parents had reported her illness the next day to ask for Permitted Absence, saying their daughter was depressed and unhappy with her occupation. The Head Maids had gathered in a meeting and decided to promote Vivienne (after how long she had waited, all it took was some tears and throw up) to be a cleaning maid, Vivienne's mother's occupation. They had found the orange-haired girl's work tiring yet fulfilling, and saw that she was ready to move on to a different job where her work ethic and handiwork could be used just as well. Not that cleaning windows was all that hard, but who was she to complain?

Little brother Ethan seemed to be getting worse; he was becoming more violent and loud and annoying. As much as Vivienne loved Ethan-and she would do anything for him-she couldn't think clearly or speak a coherent sentence while in the family's tiny compartment. He wailed non-stop and punched everything, then would cry more because he had hurt himself from punching an object so hard. She couldn't stand it, watching her little brother deteriorate more and more instead of improving.

Opening her eyes, Vivienne stared outside as she watched the gardeners trim the bush and weed the plants while small drops of rain fell from the stormy gray clouds above. Her gaze followed the orange and red and brown leaves as they were piled into heaps and couldn't help but think, Ethan would probably like fall. However, the little blonde boy would never experience the fun of jumping into piles of leaves, and the thought of this ignited a spark of guilt that gnawed on Vivienne's heart.

Finally, she snapped out of her pity party. It had been a few weeks since Vivienne and Lucas' relationship had ended, and, though her heart hadn't healed yet, she began to plot a new idea. This time around, Vivienne was experienced; she knew what she'd have to do to succeed. It was a new plan, Plan B, and this time Vivienne would win.

She watched her breath fog the newly cleaned glass.

Another leaf fell.

Sweep,

rake,

pile into a heap.

The cycle began again.

But this time, she was out for Prince James' heart.

The shadow of her grin reflected off the glass,

smile wider than a Chesire cat's

and teeth sharper than shark teeth.

Playing nice was no longer part of the game.

New plots, new plans, and this story is about to get real complex. I cannot say enough how sorry I am for my absence, but when life happens, sometimes other priorities have to be put on the back burner. I would like to clarify that I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY. Nope. I refuse to quit. I love writing and I'm excited for this story, so I am not leaving. Please review and tell me how you feel! I appreciate it.