The royal family were hosting a reception in the Great Room ahead of tonight's Report. The large space had been decorated with great swathes of pale blue fabric that made the room feel more intimate. Arrangements of Illéan wildflowers spilled from tall gold stands, and servers carried trays of champagne that glittered in the soft candlelight.

I accepted the first glass I was offered and drank deeply once I had my back turn to the room. Ah, not champagne, but sparkling apple juice. I supposed it made sense that they didn't want anyone imbibing too enthusiastically before such an important Report.

King Maxon and Queen America weren't sitting in their thrones at the far end of the room, instead they mingled. Even so, they had their own effortless way of standing out from the crowd. The Queen looked radiant in a simple yet immaculately cut blue gown that was just a shade darker than the fabric draped around the room. The King wore a smile that outshone the candles in the chandeliers.

Princess Selene was on her mother's arm, in an age appropriate champagne coloured dress with sleeves that fluttered to her elbows. Prince Evander and his brothers, Sylas and Ellis, lingered near the thrones, deep in some private conversation. I lamented that I wouldn't be able to talk to Evander, but I hoped my gown would at least catch his eye.

Mom was displeased with my outfit, and was now giving me the cold shoulder, having voiced her disapproval on the walk down from our rooms, "You ought to have known better than to try to pull focus on the Prince's night. For goodness sake, Audie, you're more dressed up than Princess Selene!"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, "She's only 14! It's a royal event, mom. It's entirely appropriate to be dressed up."

"But we are not royal," she whispered hurriedly, "And you are not one of the Selected, even if you have applied."

I heard the unspoken question in her voice, but neither confirmed nor denied whether I'd entered, frustrating her further. Eventually she threw up her hands, and backed away to orbit Queen America, the modest, elegant dress she wore as the Queen's attendant swishing around her ankles.

I felt the familiar weight of my dad's hand on my shoulder, and turned to face him. He looked tired, but he offered me a reassuring smile and spoke conspiratorially, "Be gentle with your mother. She would never want the King or Queen to feel like we were taking advantage of their generosity."

"I don't get it dad," I sighed, pushing my curls back over my shoulder, "The Queen always encourages us to make the most of palace resources."

His eyes went distant, as if he were elsewhere for a moment, "I know that you've only ever known this life Audie, but your mother and I have known other ways of living. She's cautious; we both are. We know that we can't take anything about the palace for granted."

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him that I knew our living arrangements and positions in the palace were unorthodox, that I felt awkward about it everyday, that I resented that I'd never felt entirely at ease in my own home. But then I remembered the tapes, and the Queen trying to stop his and mom's caning, and I resigned myself to an understanding nod.

Asher had been whisked into conversation with a nearby cluster of production staff. He was only recently 18, but had been working in an apprentice role on the filming and distribution of the Report since he was 16. I often wished that I'd found the same contentment within the confines of the palace that my brother had. I was just over a year into studying Politics and International Relations, but my parents had insisted I do the course remotely, and I was only allowed to go to the university in person in exceptional circumstances.

Dad was now laughing with General Leger and a few of the senior security staff. Every other member of my family had their place within this grand room filled with notable people.

And then there was me, standing alone with my glass of sparkling apple juice, suddenly conscious that my mother may have been right about my outfit choice. I wished I felt less conspicuous.

"Miss Woodwork, how are you this evening?"

I turned and found myself face to face with Valen Illéa. I was astonished that he'd been allowed to attend tonight, given some of his recent statements leaned towards anti-monarchist, but his father was still a close ally of King Maxon's, and I wasn't naive to the possible implications of excluding his politically inclined son from such an important event.

I lowered my glass and met his calculating grey eyes, "I'm very well, Mr Illéa."

Valen smirked, raising his glass to me slightly, "You look well. Have you applied for his royal highness' Selection, or would that be a little awkward since the two of you shared a kiddie pool?"

"We did no-" I began to shoot back, before realising that he was laughing, "The prince was never the kiddie pool type."

Valen nodded, apparently understanding, "How are your studies going? I spotted you at my father's lecture at the university last month."

"They're what keep me going," I replied honestly, appreciative that someone had asked about them for once, "I'm hoping that I'll be able to attend more lectures in person. The way that your father composed himself in front of an audience was… fascinating."

He huffed a laugh, "Very different from the way King Maxon addresses people?"

"Yes," I admitted, "But the audience were no less engaged."

Valen took a moment to digest my observation, his smirk melting into something more sincere, "I will be sure to pass that onto my father, Miss Woodwork."

It was my turn to laugh, although it sounded dry, "I don't think August Illéa will particularly care what I think."

"On the contrary," he was quick to reply, that sincere smile still in place, "I'm certain he will hold your opinion in high regard."

My cheeks were burning, and I hoped that the makeup Brenna and I had applied together was enough to hide whatever blush was creeping through. It was one thing to be told my opinions mattered by family members or teachers, but Valen was active in the real Illéan political sphere. It was a mystery why he considered my thoughts to have weight, but it still meant something to me.

"Thank you. Please tell him I'll be looking forward to his next lecture."

"Give me a heads up next time and we can go together," he insisted, giving me a wink.

I couldn't help it; I rolled my eyes, "That's the worst idea I've heard in a long time."

Valen didn't seem discouraged by my rejection, and his confidence made me feel strangely uncomfortable. I was grateful when he was waved away to join another conversation, and drifted to the opposite side of the Great Room before he could try to bring me along with him. From my new vantage point, I scanned the room, and found Evander's dark, intent eyes watching me.

Was that why I'd been feeling so uncomfortable?

Evander flicked his eyes over to Valen, and cocked his head curiously at me. I simply shrugged, taking a sip of my drink. I appreciated that he might have been uncomfortable with someone who had such an intimate knowledge of him talking to a man who was making waves for the Schreave family, but I hadn't been the one to initiate the conversation.

To redirect our silent exchange, I casually brushed my hand over the swan pendant that hung around my neck, then nonchalantly let my arm fall, my fingertips tracing their way down the silk of my gown. The corner of Evander's mouth pulled up into the smallest smile, and I knew that he understood.

He wouldn't smile at me that way unless he'd found a way to get me into the Selection, would he?

Gavril Fadaye was a wonder, really. The fact that he was still working was impressive enough, but that he still managed to do so with such zest and vigour was what made him a national treasure.

The lights on the household audience were never as bright as those on Gavril and the royal family, but even so, the set was always warm. I willed my hair not to frizz and my makeup not to melt, watching the Queen from across the set and wondering how she always managed to look immaculate on camera.

I elbowed Asher beside me, "Sit up straight."

Typically, he'd be behind the scenes during the Report, however during the big recordings mom liked him to be sat with the family. Unfortunately, whenever he had to sit with us, he'd be constantly fidgeting and craning his neck around to see what the production crew were up to.

He elbowed me back, but he straightened up and turned his head back towards Gavril.

"People of Illéa," Gavril continued, his perfectly white smile on show with every word, "I can't begin to tell you how much pleasure it gives me to preside over my third Selection. It is a true honour."

We all clapped, and beside me Asher gave a whoop of admiration. I'd have been embarrassed, if his weren't one of several cries.

Chuckling, Gavril hushed us all with a wave of his hand, "But tonight isn't about me, it's about our Crown Prince, Evander Schreave!"

Evander stood, seated somewhat apart from the rest of his family, and gave a poised smile and a little wave before sitting back down. Gosh, he looked handsome in that charcoal suit. He wore no tie, but a pocket square that matched his mother's dress. It was a charming detail; the kind of thing he was exceedingly good at.

A solemnity overtook Gavril as he continued, the studio lights dipping aside from spotlights on both Gavril and Evander, "The wait is over. It's finally time for his royal highness, all of us here at the Report, and the whole of Illéa to meet the 35 lovely women of the Selection."

My heart was in my throat as the names began being announced, their photos lit up on a large screen. My eyes flashed between the Selected, and Evander, unsure of what I was hoping to see on his face.

By all accounts, the Selected looked lovely, too lovely for it to have been a true lottery. I wondered whether the 'vetting' Evander had mentioned also included only choosing girls who had a certain aesthetic potential. I told myself I needn't worry, but the realisation still made me feel oddly uncomfortable.

There were a few standouts; Selka Vale, from Whites, with pale blonde hair and freckles that looked as if a painter had carefully applied each one across her nose, cheeks and brow. Parker Ashbourne, from Carolina (the Queen's home province), was reminiscent of a young Queen America with her vivacious smile. Merryn Lorne, from Dakota, looked like a doll, with huge eyes and cheeks that were beautifully flushed against her dark skin. Cressida Fielden, from Waverly, had the look of a celebrity; full, highlighted hair, an immaculate face of makeup, and a knowing smile.

I was trying to figure out whether I'd heard Cressida's name before or seen her face in a magazine when Gavril announced, "Luxe Quinell, from Angeles!"

My blood went cold, and I didn't see Luxe's face. I could look only at Evander, and I found his eyes trained on me. He'd been so composed thus far, smiling politely for each of the Selected, but now he was rigid.

It wasn't me. I wasn't one of the Selected.

Oh, how I wished I could flee. In a matter of seconds, that set became the last place on earth that I wanted to be. It was an effort to stay composed, to hold back my tears and keep my hands from covering my face.

I couldn't dwell on whether or not Evander had known I wasn't one of the Selected, not yet. I just had to get through the rest of this recording, and back to my room. Then, I would come clean to Brenna about everything. There was no way I could handle this alone, and whilst I knew she would judge me for getting entangled with Evander, I also knew that she was my best chance at getting through the coming weeks.

I kept my eyes on Gavril for the rest of the Report, my hands knotted in my skirts in my lap. My outfit now felt ridiculous. How had I allowed myself to believe that I would get the fairytale?

Only once did I dare to look at Evander. I found him looking right back at me, but I realised I'd rather he wasn't. It was the closest I came to letting the tears spill over, and I was certain he'd see the wavering of my lip, even from a distance.

It was over, 35 Selected girls announced, one of them destined to be Evander's princess.

And I had lost everything.