The Warrior [The Selection]

Chapter Nine: Jeans and Dragons.

"Well..." I bit my lip. I didn't want to reveal my plans to leave by any means necessary, for fear they'd rat me out to a Guard and have me clapped in chains for treason, or something like that. I had to be infinitely careful with who I trusted.

"Are you worried about keeping up with the other Selection girls?" Kit provided helpfully, smiling in a way that seemed sympathetic.

"Yes, exactly that." I nodded quickly. "I don't expect to stay here long, what with the competition being so tough."

"Aw!" Robyn and Kit exclaimed at the same time, rushing towards me with compassion and uttering assurances that they'd do everything in their power to help me get ahead.

Taylor didn't seem quite so convinced, and hung back a little, scrutinising me.

"We'll start getting you ready right now!" Kit was already combing through those beautiful dresses, musing aloud the pros and cons of each one. "You'll look amazing for the first breakfast, and you'll surely catch the Prince's eye."

"As wandering as it is." Taylor muttered. Robyn threw her a sharp glance.

"Actually," I said as Kit pulled a huge, puffy dress from the wardrobe, declaring it's perfection, "I'd rather wear my own clothes."

**

"Are you sure we can't rush you back to your room?" Robyn wrung out her hands. They weren't as covered in freckles as her face, and the skin beneath was a pale pink.

"I'll be fine."

"We still have time." Kit said nervously, "We could have you in a nice, pretty dress in seconds."

"Really, it's okay." I chuckled, trying not to be too insulted at their absolute devastation. "Thank you for your help, though."

The three of them were still looking as if they wanted to drag me back to my room, but I'd already ducked through the doors that would lead me into the Dining Hall.

The sight of the cavernous room shocked me into dumb silence. The room itself could probably fit our orphanage in it three times over. Massive bay windows lined one side, pieces of art and bits of furniture were dotted elsewhere to make it a bit less empty. The long, oak table was clearly the centerpiece.

A table that was completely full.

It wasn't easy to ignore the sound of the doors clattering closed behind me, especially since the only noise there had been was the quiet clinking of cutlery on plates. Given also that I was purposefully late meant that every single seat bar one was taken, and everyone turned to stare.

Noise had them glancing over, but horror ensured all those eyes stayed trained on me as I spotted the empty seat between Lauren and Luna, half way up the table, and made my way towards it.

The rips in my blue jeans were only made more painfully obvious by the tattoos shining colourfully beneath them. Not to mention the utter loudness of my oversized mustard sweater, frayed and worn as it was.

I took my seat as boldly as I could, smiling obliviously at those closest to me. I was probably pushing my luck a bit too much when I dramatically pushed back the huge, hanging sleeves of the sweater to reach for some toast.

Still, everyone continued to stare, and the air grew thick with tension.

The sound of my knife scraping butter onto the toast might as well have been gunfire. I fought back a choked laugh, but I couldn't wrestle my grin into submission.

After a long, stifling moment, Prince Asher took a very deliberate, very loud slurp from his teacup, and turned back to reading a letter he was holding.