"True politeness will be found, its basis in the human heart, the same in all these varied scenes and situations, but the outward forms of etiquette will vary everywhere. Even in the same scene, time will alter every form, and render the exquisite polish of last year, obsolete rudeness next year"
illéan royal etiquette booklet
*
"...which means, this week, it's you guys, the public who get to vote on which dates the Prince will be accompanying The Selected on." Gavril reads off his cue cards, "All dates are reportedly going to be aired next week on The Report, where you all get to decide which girl has the least chemistry with the Prince and must be sent home."
I suck in a breath. Plot twist.
"Lady Genevieve, the fans voted... a movie date!" Genevieve flashes her pearly smile to the cameras. "Lady Sarah, dance date. Lady Mia, Picnic date. Lady Holly, night-stroll date, and finally, Lady Emmett, Impromptu Date, a wild card for the Prince to decide!"
King Maxon speaks next, moving in front of us, "Enjoying yourself, ladies?" We all nod accordingly, me flashing a faltering smile at the cameras, "Well, I wish you all luck on your dates. It'll be a pleasure for my Queen and me to begin to get to know you all over the next few weeks."
We shared small applause before Gavril ended the programme and we all headed our separate ways.
I caught up with both Genevieve and Mia on my way out. Since Denise and Callista's departure, I had begun to feel more disheartened with the competition. It wasn't any fun without a friend. Luckily for me, I had already started to grow closer to the synchronized duo.
"Holly," Mia greets me cheerfully, "Nice to see you're feeling better?"
Although I can see that she's genuinely trying to be nice, I ignore the comment, "Excited for this week?" I murmur quietly. "I'm guessing Emmett's the current fan-favourite, impromptu. Lucky."
"I'm not sure, honestly." Genevieve laughs, "At first, I thought she was at the bottom. After all, the audience couldn't care enough to give her an actual category, but you make a fair point." she states.
"I bet the poll results on the Selected have been released. We could glance at those."
Today was one of the few days that the girls and I were huddled together in the Women's room. Unlike previous Selections that had occurred, each of the girls, including myself, had connected with a specific place, resulting in the desertification of the previously renowned room.
"This is absurd!" I yell to no one in particular as the three of us enter. America, from her seat, smirks at me, which almost tempts me to engage in our now regular banter. The other girls gasp, glancing from the Queen to me, wondering if she heard my comment of disgust.
But instead, she hides her smile and wiggles her eyebrows at me. What follows next is silence. The rest of the girls are unsure about this gesture, and I'm not prepared to explain anything, really, to them. America lingers on a page of her magazine.
Luckily for us, Sylvia chooses this moment to make her entrance, waving a few leaves of paper as she catwalks into the center of the room, "Letters, ladies."
Screams are in order, and everyone is reaching maniacally for ours. Sylvia glances away in pure disgust, before tucking her arm, with the letters, behind her. "I see you've all been extremely diligent in reading that etiquette book that was handed out two weeks ago." she retorts.
"Hand them the letters, Sylvia." America sighs, "I'm sure you can exempt the ladies just this once." And for some strange reason, those are the magic words that Sylvia listens to.
Holly,
We miss your crazy behaviour so much that even I'm not sure what's happening to any of us at this rate. I can't believe we hardly get to actually speak to you and rather are only able to see you on the Report, where you're fortunate enough to be dolled up in the country's most flashing jewels.
It's Prince Lucas' selection, right? Then why is the wrong prince staring at you? It's the new discussion at our household dinners, I hope you won't freak at that idea. I miss you, Holly.
Mom wants to know if you and the Prince are a good match, Dad wants to know if the food is as good as they say, and Sarah wants a try at any instrument. But I know we're all "secretly" wondering how you're holding up. Every time an attack strikes, mum has nightmares, and we can't really imagine what it's like for you. We wonder if you're fine being so far away from home, having to share a Prince with four other girls.
I wonder if you're okay.
But I already know you are. You're the strongest among us, and if any of the other girls are fine, then I know that you are too. And if you ever feel overwhelmed by the jewels, riches, and pressure there is, we welcome you home with open arms. As a current three, the pools of eligible bachelors are endless.
In the long run, I know you're okay,
Selina
The tears at the corners of my eyes aren't enough to express my nostalgia. I've moved to one of the chairs around the perimeter of the room, away from the middle. The other girls seem to follow suit, and everyone is granted a moment of solace.
The letter is seemingly dissipating at my fingertips. My thoughts are recollected.
"They dictate my whole life," I whispered slowly, the decisions of the audience having a higher power on me, "but only within the confinements of the palace." I'm the first of the Selected to regain my thoughts and the first one to leave.
"Hey, you!" I yell at Niklas as I approach him, and he gives me his signature smile.
"Nope. Nope. Nope. That smile spells trouble."
I grin hopelessly, the corners of my smile dripping into a smirk. "Esteban." I state plainly, "Find him."