CHAPTER 6

Vivienne loved sunrises.

There was something so hopeful about them, the pale orange and dark pink streams of light filling the sky, bringing the sun along with them. Whenever she was feeling particularly worried, or upset, she always made sure to get up at exactly six in the morning to watch the sunrise from her balcony. The sky's change from inky black to bright blue never failed to reassure her.

Unfortunately, her room in the Illéan palace, with its spectacular view of the garden, faced the walled-in complex. The view was nowhere close to the one she enjoyed at home. There would be no grand view of the sun. If she leaned precariously over the edge of the balcony and twisted her body, she was able to see just a glimpse of the sunrise.

That hurt though, so after about thirty seconds, she gave up.

It wasn't as if Vivienne didn't know what was bothering her.

She was supposed to start the etiquette lessons today. Vivienne knew that she shouldn't have been this worried about it, that everything was going to be fine, hell, she had received etiquette lessons since literally before she could walk, but still, a little part of her was scared to make an impression on these girls.

Vivienne had received very little guidance on what she was actually supposed to teach. She had asked Andrew's mother about what she was meant to cover, but Princess Morgan had merely shrugged. She gave some flittering response before saying, "Just whatever you think is best, dear. They're your lessons. Do whatever you wish."

So, she had ordered several antiquated lesson books and practically plagiarized them into a slideshow.

Then, she recruited Andrew to act as her student. He had been willing, but the whole thing clearly seemed like a joke to him. Vivienne understood that. She was asking him to slouch so she could correct his already fine posture, requesting that he use the wrong fork so she could explain the right way. He found it funny, her playing as a teacher and him playing as an impossibly bad student.

He just thought that all she had to do was teach the selected basic manners. She sort of wished that was true.

She was going to be the Queen of France, she couldn't let some Illéans think of her as incapable.

The selected had been told to come to a remodeled sitting room immediately after breakfast. That wasn't going to be until nearly ten o'clock. Vivienne was already jittery with inexplicable nerves. She needed to do something to take her mind off of it.

Taking her matching blue blazer off of her chair, she went across to Andrew's room. It was early, but she knew that he would be up. He always woke up at the crack of dawn to go on some sort of run around the palace with his father.

"Vivienne, you're going to boil in that." Andrew said as soon as he saw her.

"What do you mean?" She asked, crossing into his room. It was larger than her own. Several suitcases sat on the floor in various stages of unpacking. He had been home for two weeks, as per Vivienne's understanding. Surely someone would have finished unpacking for him by now.

"It's June in Angeles." Andrew explained, "Just take off the jacket."

Vivienne nodded. "What is all of this?" She asked, gesturing towards the piles of suitcases.

"Oh," Andrew seemed sort of embarrassed. "I don't really know. They showed up yesterday. I think my school accidentally mailed me my roommate's stuff instead of mine. My butler's sorting through it, just in case any of it actually is mine."

Vivienne kneeled by the closest suitcase to her. "Is this your diploma?" There was a folder with his school's logo embossed in gold on top of the bag. She picked it up just in case.

"Yeah. It came with all of this."

"You should not just leave it on the floor." Vivienne chastised. "This is very important." She placed it on his desk, brushing off some of the dust that had accumulated.

Andrew shrugged. He didn't seem to agree with her.

"I am sorry I could not come to your graduation." Vivienne told him, arranging his diploma to be in the center of his desk. It looked a bit lonely. Underappreciated. Vivienne had never gone to college, she didn't have time, but she assumed that most graduates didn't just toss their diploma on the floor. It was unlike Andrew. He usually made sure everything was in its proper place, organized and put away.

"Don't be. I couldn't even walk across the stage. It was a waste of time," Andrew answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Why not?"

"Some of the council got it in their head that it would be a security risk, and I think my dad probably agreed. Either way, he wasn't going to fight them on it." Andrew's voice was bitter. "I guess it's not a big deal. What even was it? Just a piece of paper and some people I don't even know clapping."

"That's not very nice of them." Vivienne answered. It was odd to her that the council could have so much control over the day to day lives of the royals. Andrew had once told her it was because there was no King, that Albert was just the Regent, but she wasn't sure that was any excuse.

Andrew quirked a smile, "They're not very nice people."

Vivienne had never met any of them, so to that she couldn't answer. "Are you going to do anything?"

"Hm?"

"With what you learned in college. Are you going to do an internship or anything this summer?"

Andrew shook his head, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes. "I wish. I can't. I wouldn't do that to Cade."

Vivienne tilted her head in what she hoped came off as polite confusion. "What would that do to Cadence?"

"Can you imagine what the council would say if I do? If I do anything involving political science? They would probably see it as me declaring I want to be King. I would never have a peaceful moment again. It would probably be pretty bad for Cade too. I don't need to pour gasoline on the fire." Andrew explained, seeming resigned.

That wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Cadence, and it certainly wasn't fair to Andrew. Vivienne didn't like being pushed around, and she couldn't imagine that Andrew enjoyed it either. How awful it must be, to go to college, get a degree, and just blatantly not be able to use it under the threat of upsetting the line of succession.

"I'm sorry." Vivienne said quietly, looking down.

Andrew softened. "Hey, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Besides, I only need to deal with this for six more months, right?"

Vivienne nodded. Her father had booked the Cathedral for late December just last week.

"A person can do anything for six months. I think I can definitely do nothing for six months." Andrew joked.

"Maybe you should take up a hobby." Vivienne suggested.

"Maybe. Maybe I'll become one of those really famous video game livestreamers."

Good. He seemed happier. The last thing Vivienne needed now was for him to aggravate the council. He had a much more forceful personality than she did, and with how annoyed he seemed at them, Vivienne was worried that he might go make his distaste clear.

"You could help me with these lessons." Vivienne offered. "I am not sure if what I did was acceptable."

"I thought they were pretty good. I think I showed some real improvement, huh?"

"Yes. You were very helpful. I am just worried that the selected might not respond as well as you did to the corrections. I do not like to get into arguments."

"No one's going to get into an argument with you over silverware," Andrew assured her. "You're the Crown Princess of France. They would have to be blithering idiots."

Vivienne shrugged, not entirely convinced. The memory of Irina practically yelling at her danced in front of her mind. Vivienne wasn't used to people testing her like that. She was almost revered in France, and those in other countries seemed to agree. No one had ever spoken to her that way. It came as such a shock, she didn't even know what to think. "I do not think many like me."

"Why would you say that?"

"Just…a feeling."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Andrew said. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Introductions, mostly." Vivienne had thought it was better for the selected to know each other, and in a way to know her, before she started trying to appear as a teacher. She wanted them to like her, to trust her. No one would do that with their instructor; but a friend, if she could be their friend, her short career in teaching would be much easier.

"Are they all going to have to do a fun fact?" Andrew asked, looking amused.

It took a second for Vivienne to process what he meant. A trivial piece of information. Something that usually happened when large groups of people met to discuss. She could speak English, in fact several exams had declared her fluent, but the subtle nuances behind phrases still tripped her up sometimes. Those only were truly problems when she was in Illéa. Otherwise, all the affairs were done in France, and there, Andrew was the one who had to play catch up.

But, he was better at languages than she was.

So it wasn't really an issue.

"I think so, yes. That's what most people have to do in first meetings, right?" Viviene asked.

Andrew shrugged. "Yeah. Mostly. My go to one is that I can play the cello."

Vivienne did a double take. "You can play the cello?"

"No, but how would they know? And even if they did, who would call me on it?"

"Do you think these girls will lie about their fun facts?" Vivienne asked, another worry she had never truly thought about popping in.

To his credit, Andrew seriously considered her question. For about three seconds, that is. "Viv, I'm sure they won't. It'll be fine. Come on, I'll walk you to the parlor."

"It's a classroom. They added in desks."

"My mom did?" Andrew asked, following her down the hall.

"I don't think she did it herself. She probably had someone do it," Vivienne said as she led the way to the faux-classroom. Andrew didn't actually know where it was. Whether simply because no one told him or he hadn't cared enough to ask, she didn't know.

There was a small gaggle of girls outside the room, the early comers who must have finished breakfast early or perhaps not even attended at all. They were talking quietly, several holding thick books or heavy pens.

Vivienne knew the importance of a first impression. She had fumbled the true first one, but that was in front of a small group of girls from the most eastern provinces. This was her do-over.

She straightened as they turned to look at the source of the sound, giving a small wave. Prompt, brief, and to the point. She had played this moment out in her head, making sure it was professional enough to not devalue her position but warm enough to not immediately alienate her.

"Ladies," Andrew said, tipping his head. Vivienne nudged him away from her. Once he was gone, she addressed the crowd.

"Good morning everyone," Vivienne said. "Are the others still at breakfast?"

"I believe so, Your Highness."

Right. Vivienne should have thought of that. Well, that was fine. She would go into the classroom, set her things up, so she could have the perfect image for all the other selected when they finally made their way into the room.

The room was actually very nice. There were a few rows of long desks, each with two plush chairs behind them that obviously had been borrowed from the dining room. At the front of the room was the projector Vivienne had requested, along with a bouquet of brightly colored markers for the whiteboard, several stacks of lined paper, a glass jar filled with pens, and a stack of sticky notes.

It was obvious as the selected filed in that several had already asserted themselves as the unofficial leaders of the selection. The four Charlotte Reyes, with her dark hair meticulously straightened, the political girl, Pamela Ramseyer, and for some reason the stage manager Lea had clearly formed a tight knit group so far. They took their seats in the front, and Vivienne didn't miss the jealous stares some of the other selected, several obviously desperate girls, gave them.

Then, there was the actress that even Vivienne had heard of. Blythe and the curly blond Finley Ariss had seemed to become fast friends. They sat by the windows. The other girls, those who were yet to make any deep connections dawdled a little, looking for a seat.

Eventually, Vivienne cleared her throat, the universal cue that she was ready to begin speaking and that they should find a seat.

They did.

"Good morning everyone," Vivienne started, "I'm Princess Vivienne Auclair for those of you who I haven't met yet. I thought to begin that we could go around the room and introduce ourselves. Please give your name, where you are from, and a fun fact about yourself."

A dark haired girl with a blinding smile spoke first. "Hi everyone! My name is Nora Louise Lexington, I'm from Allens, and a fun fact about me is that I have a collection of fifty seven scrunchies."

Vivienne didn't know what a scrunchy was. She wasn't even sure that they were a thing. It wouldn't do very well for her to announce it though, so she made a mental note to ask Andrew about it later. Or to google it. That would probably be less of a humiliation if it turned out to be something rudimentary.

Irina was seated next to Nora Louise, looking thoroughly displeased at the way the seating arrangements had turned out. They made an odd friendship, if that's what they were. Vivienne hadn't seen them arrive together, so she didn't know what Irina considered them to be or vice versa.

"My name's Irina, and I like to dance," she said, a strained smile across her face. Vivienne didn't comment on it.

The next girl had dark curly hair. She introduced herself as Geraldine Bosteil. Sandra Porths had seven hamsters. Jasmine Andilet was a chef. Penelope Darnley, with her gloomy demeanor, wrote fiction novels.

"I'm Catalina Brereton, and I collect stuffed animals. I name all of them."

Her words were met with a small smattering of giggles from the front of the room, and an awww sound from the rest. Vivienne herself went a little pink, she tried to force the image of a stuffed guinea pig with a ribbon around its neck out of her mind.

"What are the names?" Vivienne asked.

"Well, all different things. Usually food."

"That is very sweet," Vivienne agreed, nodding to the next girl to speak.

Avary Rodrigo played basketball. Charlotte Reyes preferred pens to pencils.

"I've been in seven movies," Blythe Cecilia announced. A few of the girls looked rather starstruck at this.

"I have not been in seven movies," was Finley Ariss's fun fact. The entire room broke out into laughter, and if Vivienne had understood the joke as she said it, she probably would have laughed too. Instead, her reaction was a few seconds delayed, enough time for her to get a grip on herself, and instead clear her throat.

"Do you have another fact about yourself?" Vivienne asked, as the room quieted.

"Oh. Yeah, I do. I cannot drive at all," Finley amended.

Clara Dounias was allergic to pollen. Molly Sarabeth liked ladybugs. Lea Sage Newbauer had worked on two broadway shows, earning herself the attention of the Blythe girl. Vivienne assumed she must have been somewhat connected to the theater industry.

"I can speak two languages, and translate five," Desdemona finished. That struck Vivienne's curiosity. It was a useful skill to have, and Vivienne was a bit jealous of it.

"Which ones?"

I speak Italian and English, and I can translate Latin, Coptic, Sanskrit, Ancient Greek, and Arabic to some extent."

Wow.

Vivienne smiled, "Perfect. Thank you everyone, if we'll get started, oh yes, Nora Louise, was it?"

The girl nodded, putting her hand down. "What about your fun fact?"

"My fun fact? Well, I did not prepare one, but I can write with both my left and right hand." Vivienne answered.

"That's really cool." Nora Louise said.

"Yes, thank you. Now, if everyone is settled, I thought we could start with a basic lesson today. I wanted to go over how to properly address different levels of the monarchy, since I am sure that would be the most, shall we say, pressing issue."

Vivienne pressed a button on her laptop to switch to the next slide, which had a graphic organizer she had found on some shady website, probably incurring several viruses when she clicked on it. Some of the girls began to copy it down, and most did look somewhat interested.

At least at first. Vivienne began to realize at the half hour mark that at least half the class had stopped paying attention, and she was fairly sure that Nora Louise was not dutifully taking notes but rather doodling flowers in her notebook. She had a job to do though, and Vivienne knew it was boring, she did, but it was something that they had to suffer through. Vivienne had to when she was a child.

When Vivienne got to the end of her presentation, she surveyed the room, noting the dropped heads and glazed eyes. "There will be a quiz on this tomorrow," she decided quickly.

At that at least half the heads poked up, some looking concerned. Jasmine Andilet tentatively raised her hand, "Could you maybe print out the sheets. So we can study?"

"No. I will not. Do not worry, it's all in your notes," Vivienne assured her, knowing full well that Jasmine's notebook was empty besides from the date. "I think that's all for today. I will see you tomorrow."

Cade needed to go on a date.

No, he wanted to go on a date. To need something implies that it was completely out of his control that it was a requirement. That wasn't exactly true of this. The selection should be something he wanted to do, not something he had to do. So, he wanted to go on a date.

He knew who it was going to be with too.

Pushing open the doors to the Women's room, (he was supposed to ask for permission before entering technically, but considering that the last Queen that Illéa had was dead, there was no one to ask) Cade surveyed the room. Most of the selected were there, partaking in various activities, some watching a television show, others playing a board game.

"Miss Ariss," Cade said, locating the blond girl. She was sitting by the board game, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a date today?" Cade asked, watching the expressions on the other girls sink into ones of utter dismay. For the most part that is. A few seemed to pull off attempts at genuine happiness for Finley, which Cade wasn't sure if he believed considering they would have known each other for at most two days at this point.

Finley just smiled though, "Of course. I would love to, Your Highness."

Cade helped her up from her seat, once they exited the room he spoke again. "I thought we could go to one of the parks." He wasn't quite sure how to introduce the topic of the date, without it seeming so…weird.

"I like that. That sounds nice."

"I can meet you here a bit later? If you want to change."

Finley just nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

They met in front of the car forty minutes later. Finley had changed into a light blue dress, with silver heels that looked extremely uncomfortable to walk in. Her short curly hair had been combed back and a small black headband held the front few pieces.

"I like your dress," Cade said, offering her his arm as they walked to the car.

"Thank you," Finely answered. "So, uh, where are we going, Your Highness?"

"Angeles Park," Cade told her. "They have very nice topography. It's very popular with tourists."

"Oh, yes. Topography. I love topography, it's so…topographic" Finely said, looking down as her face turned red.

The car ride to the park was spent in a suffocating sort of silence. The air felt thick around Cade, his collar was pressing tightly on his neck, and his shoes felt almost constricting. He wasn't sure what to say to Finley. He had never been on a true date before, he had never had a girlfriend. His romantic experience was woefully sparse compared to most his age, and now, he was supposed to go on his first dates while trying to find someone to marry.

The cameras didn't help. There were none in the car of course, well, at least cameras connected to the media. The two bodyguards who accompanied them wore ear pieces that were recorded at all times. New security measures after the deaths of his parents. When they got to the park though, Cade knew it would be overrun with the media. People with large cameras and nothing better to do than snap photo after photo of Cade and Finley.

Cade didn't know what was running through Finley's head. Whether she was shy, or scared of him, or just didn't know how to talk to a prince.

He helped her out of the car, extending one hand for her as he heard cameras click in the background.

Finely didn't look towards the sound, instead she stared straightforward, turning her back against the incessant clicking.

"I thought we could start at the botanical gardens." Cade said, offering his arm. Finley took it.

"Okay."

They were silent as they walked towards the exhibits. Cade had consulted a map beforehand, to make sure he knew where he was going. The actual exhibits themselves were spread out very far, each one not very large.

"The flowers are very pretty," Finley said, looking at a small patch of petunias.

"Yes," Cade answered, acutely aware of the paparazzi only a dozen feet away, continuously snapping their photos.

"I like the color."

"Me too."

Finely laughed a little, looking up at him. "Sorry, I'm not usually like this. I'm just nervous. This whole thing is really weird for me. Really, I promise I'm a very interesting person if you get to know me."

Cade was more relieved to hear her say that than he thought he would be. Maybe he wasn't alone in his feelings of awkwardness in front of the cameras, in most group situations. He knew the selection was supposed to be high-stakes for every person involved, that it was pressure-filled on both sides.

"I'm not usually like this either," he said. "Believe it or not, I'm not actually this stuffy in real life."

Finley laughed, a genuine laugh. He didn't hear that much. "I didn't think so, Your Highness. At least, not to this level."

Cade flushed, "I'm sorry. It's hard to think of princely things to talk about on dates."

"Well, what if you didn't have to talk about princely things?" Finely asked. "What if you just talked to me like I was your friend?"

Cade didn't have a lot of friends. Actually, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't have any. He hadn't kept in touch with any of his acquaintances he met over the years, and even if he had, it wasn't like he could ever hang out with them.

"I think that would be a little difficult. Not because of you, you would be a great friend. I just don't really know how to talk to people like that." Cade admitted, almost surprised as the words rolled out of his mouth. "And they aren't helping," he said, jerking his thumb towards the paparazzi.

"No. They're definitely not. Okay, well, I guess I'll talk then." Finley conceded.

"Okay."

"Hi, my name is Finley, and I'm actually super fun, although you wouldn't know it from the way I've spoken these past two days. I like musicals, and coffee but only when there's a mountain of sugar in it. Your turn."

"My turn?" Cade asked, "Hey now, I thought we were still on you."

"Nope. I already gave my introduction. It's your turn." Finely wrinkled her nose. "And don't say any of that Crown Prince of Illéa stuff. I know that already. Talk about the juicy stuff."

That eliminated most of what his introductions consisted of. Alright then. How many more times in his life is he going to be on his first ever date?

"Hi. My name is Cade," he started, "Well, actually it's Cadence, but that's a stupid name and nobody calls me that. I always wanted a pet cat, but I'm allergic, and I used to really like typing."

"Typing?" Finely asked.

Cade had never actually talked about this particular hobby of his before, "Yeah, seeing how many words I can type in a minute. I used to do that over and over again when I was younger."

"That's a weird hobby for the Crown Prince of Illéa. I thought you would be more into plotting wars and writing poetry."

"I thought you said you didn't want to hear about that stuff," Cade pointed out. "That was the most un-royal thing I could come up with."

Cade's childhood had been spent being taught things that were distinctly royal. Fencing (which he was awful at), horseback riding (he had sprained his ankle twice doing that), and sailing (that had been stopped due to security concerns when he crashed the boat in a buoy). He didn't really feel like sharing those embarrassing stories just yet.

Typing was the most commoner-like thing he could come up with. He once pulled an all-nighter memorizing the layout of the keyboard, both in standard and alphabetical order. He had won his elementary school award for typing, although that certificate was given to everyone who completed the course, so it wasn't much of an achievement at all.

"True. I did say that." Finley answered. "And, I don't think Cadence is a stupid name, but Cade does sound a lot cooler."

"I didn't choose it, the nickname or my actual name, but thank you anyway." Cade smiled a little.

Finley burst into laughter, loud and unfiltered, drawing the attention of the media outlets who had been trailing them. The cameras all started clicking again, seemingly louder than before. Finley looked down, her face turning scarlet. "Sorry."

"They were taking photos regardless," Cade said kindly.

Finley glanced back at them for a second, "Do you think we could outrun them?"

"What? What do you mean?"

Finley didn't listen to him, "I mean, if I ditch the heels, and you should be fine with your shoes, we could probably make pretty good time. The cameras are all really heavy. I don't think they would be able to run that fast."

"I don't…" Cade looked back at the paparazzi, "Well, probably, logistically speaking, but that's not a good-"

Finley didn't listen to him. She kicked off her shoes and started running, leaving Cade to make a split second decision.

If he didn't run after her, then he would be effectively handing her over to the press. Himself too. He could practically see the headlines now. The Runaway Selected. Stranded at the Park. Worst First Date Ever. He did not want those printed. Not for Finley's sake.

And besides, it wasn't exactly a bad idea. The press had been getting on his nerves as well, even for someone who had grown up with cameras following him. Usually, they had the decency to be more discreet. There was some part of him that wanted to leave as well. Leave the camera people struggling behind him with their massive cameras and large canvas bags.

"Miss Ariss!" Came the annoyed, slightly concerned voice of one of Cade's guards.

And, he could talk to Finley without having to worry about the cameras. Finely seemed nice so far, and she certainly wasn't as she presented herself in the first meeting. Shy, quiet, and timid. No, this Finley was none of those things.

So, Cade made his decision.

"Your Highness!" The same guard called. He sounded much more concerned than with Finley.

Finely was a fast runner, probably faster than Cade. He just had the advantage of being taller, so he did manage to catch up with her as she turned down a tree lined path before stopping next to a large rock.

He was tired, and pretty out of breath. He didn't run much, he never liked it and he wasn't good at it. The collar that had already been too tight around his neck was now sticking to it uncomfortably, and his carefully combed hair was probably a mess.

But, he just ran away from the paparazzi.

And his two guards.

Cade had never done anything like that before. It was against every royal decorum, every security protocol, every inch of manners that had been drilled into him since before he could walk. It was rude to the paparazzi, dangerous for himself, and would probably be described as an embarrassment to the royal family.

He couldn't find himself to be annoyed at Finley though. In fact, he was sort of happy. Never did he think that he would be in this position. In a public park, on a date, without security and without the media. It was wrong, but the rebellious side of him, his unconscious mind, that part of Cade felt that it was totally worth it. When would he ever get the chance to do anything like that again?

"How long until they catch up with us, do you think?" Finley asked.

"Who? My guards, probably a few minutes, the press a lot longer." Cade explained, his words coming out a bit breathless.

"I guess I shouldn't have done that." Finely said, looking down. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"No, no. It's okay. It's more than okay. It's kind of a relief, in a way." Cade assured her,

"Are you going to get in trouble for it?"

"Probably."

The pair was silent for a moment. Then, Finley announced, "I don't have any shoes."

Of course not. She had ditched them when she started running, leaving them stranded on the grass of a public park. A pile of rhinestoned silver against the grass.

Laughter bubbled in his chest, 'I'm sure one of my guards will have picked them up."

"You think? Because I can take a lot, but walking barefoot in a garden is a bit too natural for me." Finley said, glancing towards her bare feet.

"I'm sure."

Finley put her hands on her hips, looking at him. "You know, it's not fair that you don't have to wear heels too. They're really uncomfortable. Not good for running either."

"I guess not," Cade said. "You don't have to wear them. I know that's probably what was given to you, but I think flat shoes will be fine. They just didn't want people to wear sneakers."

"Those aren't very royal then?"

"Not at all. At least, not according to my aunt."

"Are you going to change that when you're King?"

Cade shrugged a little, "I don't know. I've never thought about it really. I don't think that's in my power to change."

"If you start wearing sneakers then everyone else will," Finely told him, her voice confident. "Believe me, I was a teenage pop star. I know a thing or two about trendsetting."

That was the first time she had referenced her past career. Cade had assumed it was a touchy subject for her, in fact, he was positive it was a touchy subject for her. Probably wrought with tension, or broken dreams, or whatever other circumstances could have led to a rejection of the music industry. He didn't think he could ask. At least, not right now. Not any time soon. If it was kept secretive for so long, then Cade himself wasn't vain enough to believe that just because he was the Crown prince of Illéa, that he had any right to know her personal struggles.

"Right. You're the expert then."

"Of course. I'm also an expert on food, literature, music, and art if you're counting."

"Naturally," Cade agreed.

"What are you an expert on?"

"Me?" Cade thought for a few seconds. "I guess I'm an expert on the Illéan political system."

"No offense, but that sounds really boring."

"I know. It's actually pretty interesting though, how the power is delegated, and besides," Cade lowered his voice even though there was no one around, "I like watching some of the councilmen lose their elections every once in a while."

"Well," Finley put her hands on her hips, "You'll have to explain it to me then sometime, Mr. Expert."

"I'll try, I don't think I'm great at explaining things though."

Finley was going to say something else, but the sight of Cade's guards, beet red and obviously furious, cut her off. Her mouth made a little O shape. "Uh oh."

When the guards suggested rather gruffly that they return to the palace, Cade didn't protest. He and Finley complied, following them to the car and talking quietly until they returned to the palace. Cade didn't know what he anticipated when he arrived, maybe some very angry council members there to scold him, or his concerned Uncle, but there was no one.

Perhaps the guards hadn't wanted to report it. Regardless of the fact that Cade had ran away, it probably had taken a few too many minutes for the guards to catch up with him. The head of security wouldn't be happy with them either. It might have been selfish of the guards, but Cade couldn't hold it against them. He didn't want them to get in trouble for his (well, Finley's) actions, and he certainly didn't want the council to find out about this.

Maybe it could just be kept between this little foursome.

Cade walked Finley back to her room, before going to his to get his tennis racket.

"How was the game?" Cade asked when he saw Lana standing by the edge of the court, her visitor badge at a haphazard angle over her chest.

"How was your date, Your Highness?"

Cade grinned, "I asked first, but it was good. The girl was really nice, really funny. It was a good first date."

"Who was it?"

"Finley. Finley Ariss."

Lana gasped. "Get out. The Finley Ariss? What was she like? Was she nice? Did you tell her that I'm a huge fan? Did she say when she's going to start making music again?"

All the questions stunned Cade for a minute. "Uhm, no. I didn't tell her. I didn't know you were that big a fan. I can if you want."

"Is that weird?" Lana asked, squinting her eyes against the sun. "I feel like it's a little weird." She looked to Cade for confirmation.

Cade shrugged awkwardly, "I…I don't think so."

Lana lowered her voice a little, "Do you think you can get me an autograph?"

Cade didn't know how he would ask her. Under what pretense he would be able to ask Finley. How it would come up in conversation without Cade looking bizarre. "I can try, but, how was your game?"

She bounced a tennis ball on her racket. "Fine. I won, but I didn't play well. The first set was one of my worst recently, but it's alright."

Cade didn't quite know what to say. He was sure that Lana's definition of not playing well was very different from his. On his off days he couldn't even hit a ball let alone win a match.

"I'm sorry, but there's always the next round right?"

"Yeah." Lana shook her head. "I was just in my head. There were all these things with the tournament, and you know next week."

"I know?"

Lana gave him a meaningful glance. "The thing next Thursday. With everyone else?"

Cade's mind, befuddled from the heat, from his afternoon adventure, from the complexities of the selection, was slow to make the connection. He had long since compartmentalized his life. He never thought about the rebels when he was acting as the Crown Prince. He couldn't. Intertwined thoughts, an interchangeable life, made it far too easy for him to slip, to say the wrong word or appear just a bit too emotional.

The last few weeks had been purely royal responsibilities. Meetings, Report episodes, introductions, planning, things that he had to keep wholly separate. He hadn't thought about his other loyalties in far too long for him to seamlessly switch back.

"Next Thursday," Cade repeated. "Where?"

"The normal place."

Cade worried at his bottom lip. "I can't. Not with the selection. They increased security threefold, and I can't leave. Any excuse I make is going to be questioned."

"Oh." Lana's mouth puckered. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

It had been nearly impossible for him to ever go before. He couldn't just walk out of the palace without security, and even if he managed to convince his Aunt and Uncle that he didn't need the guards, they would still have questions. Where he was going. What he was doing. He probably could have come up with some slightly believable lie, but even that would require more than Cade was capable of. Changing the settings on his phone, explaining why the gps was turned off.

So, ironically, it was much easier for him to sneak out. At least it used to be. The selection however, with its heavy fanfare, required an proportional increase in security. He had no chance now.

"I'll pass the message along. Well, that's fine. I guess it gives me one less thing to worry about."

"It does?"

"Yes. You getting killed. At this rate I might even win the tournament. Any chance you can make Delphi Nahan break her wrist?" Lana joked, her voice light. Cade knew she was trying to change the subject, she never liked to talk much on palace property. Besides, Cade was a little flattered. Their relationship might be based on convenience, an easy excuse for her to come visit him, but Cade did consider her a friend, one of his only, and he was happy that those feelings were reciprocated.

"I don't think so."

That was a lie. Cade could. He could pretty easily. The royal family was far from the mob, but Cade's father was vindictive. There had been several situations that had been quietly swept under the rug. Not any more. Uncle Albert didn't agree with those sorts of things, "depraved" he called it. Cade was grateful for that, but Cade also knew that he hadn't dismissed those agents. They were still employed, just shuffled off to the military or the police force.

So he could. He was very capable of doing that, but he wouldn't. It was immoral. It would make Cade no better than his father, and that was the one thing he couldn't have.

Besides Lana was definitely joking.

"What a shame." Lana shook her head. "Do you want to serve?"

Cade nodded. Unsurprisingly, he missed, the ball landing far out of the court.

Without another word to point out his embarrassing skills, Lana took a ball from the basket next to her, and hit it so that it bounced right in front of Cade.

A/N: Hey slays, so we slayed school and now we're slaying summer vacation, so slay. Lol, anyway, thank you so much for reading, and although I don't really have anything to say, thank you for reading this note too. It's very slay. Anyway, in case anyone was curious I got sticky rice dumplings for lunch and they were so good. Okay, see you guys next time!