"No!" I shout at the men setting up chairs in the courtyard. "No. No, they need to be in a semi-circle! One half, the aisle, and the other half!"

The men nod and pick up the cherry wood seats and fix them so the seating arrangement is correct. Kennedy holds out my work panel to me so I can check the things I need to have done.

Underneath chairs, I begin to write a checkmark next to it before pausing. "Have someone come down here and make sure that the blue wrappings and roses are up at the end of each row."

"I've already contacted a servant. They are on their way now, Princess." Kennedy says taking my panel back.

"The reception is in the sunroom," I say walking back towards the palace. "I need you to make sure that the tables are set up correctly while I check in with the chef. Also, make sure they are hanging the bare bulbs with the exposed steel and not the painted black ones."

Kennedy nods and we part ways as we enter the sunroom. It's one of the largest rooms on the first floor and the doorway is almost the size of the place gates, it opens up into the gardens making it a clear shot from the ceremony to the reception.

Servants and workers alike are scurrying about the room like ants in a colony. The white table clothes and orange table strips have been draped over the round tables. The back of the chairs are wrapped in dark blue tulle and have small lights twinkling from within.

There is a table on the western wall with trays and trays for food to be placed in. The head chef is standing by the door to the kitchens, as I approach her she barks an order through the open door.

"Chef Russo," I say. "Is everything going smoothly?"

"As butter." She replies.

"The specially requested meals for those with dietary restrictions?" I pester.

"Set aside and ready to be served."

"The vegatrain platter?"

"Being prepared as we speak."

"Anything I should know of?" I question keeping my voice aloof.

"Princess, I have everything under control." Chef Russo assures me.

"Good," I nod. "I'll be off then."

As I exit the sunroom and make my way further inward towards the castle Kennedy rejoins me. "That's everything on the list."

"That's only half of it," I mutter. "The bridal party has been getting ready all morning. Their hair and makeup should be done. But I still need to do those things and we need all of the dresses."

The bridal parlor is on the seventh floor in the southern wing of the palace. Kennedy leaves me to retrieve the dresses from the seamstress who is making final adjustments. As I enter the room I brace myself for pandemonium but I am instead met with surprising clam.

Sloan is having her hair curled while she paints Brooke's nails. Juliet's hair is already done and she sits in one of the white lounge chairs wearing a silk lavender robe.

The hairstyle I selected for the bridesmaids is one of my favorite things about the wedding plans. The hair is curled but the top portion of the right side of your head is braided into a chunky braid with roses woven in.

I around the room, finding Genie's three sisters and her maid of honor, but not Genie.

A missing bride is the exact opposite of what I need right now. "Where's Genie?"

"Oh, some servants took her to get her dress on a few minutes ago." Genie's older sister answers. "She'll be back."

My mind is buzzing and I'm barely able to conjugate a sentence. "Right, okay, uhm- I sent for the dresses. They should be here soon. So, yeah, once they get here, get dressed."

"What happened to you?" Sloan scoffs, she brushes off the servant who's trying to make sure her hair is done.

"Excuse me?" I question as I walk over to an empty vanity and grab a hairbrush.

"You're all flustered," Sloan says her tone dry. "I thought you didn't get flustered?"

"I planned this wedding," I say slowly. "I'm doing my best to make sure everything goes well."

"You mean you're doing your best to make sure Bobby likes you again," Sloan mutters.

She better fix that attitude before the wedding. I let the insult slide off my back as I brush out my hair.

I quickly hop in the shower and scrub myself down. By the time Kennedy arrives with the dresses I've finished blow-drying my hair.

Kennedy wheels in a large rack of copper-colored dresses. The fabric gleams like real metal. I knew velvet was the right choice.

"They're so pretty!" Genie's younger sister coo's.

"Yes, yes," I hear Sloan mutter. "Gorgeous. Stunning. Let us think of other adjectives."

Grabbing the two smallest dresses I walk over to Juilet and Lily. I hand one to each of them. "I had to have the necklines modified for you two. So the top half of your dresses are going to look different. But it's okay because you'll still match us."

"No, we won't," Juliet protests. "If the top half is different we won't match."

My head aches trying to come up with an explanation that will please them. "You get special necklines. They're different because you're the flower girls. Flower girls' get their own special dress."

Pleased with my excuse Lily takes her dress and turns to her nanny. Members of the Court don't get servants until they turn ten. Lily is the only one left in our family with a nanny or butler.

Juliet frowns but doesn't say anything more. Brooke is the first to have her dress on. The sweetheart neckline fits her, which is what I was worried about. The skirt falls to the floor but doesn't trip her as she moves to examine herself in the mirror.

Grabbing my own dress off the rack I look towards Kennedy. I don't have to say anything for them to follow me into a changing stall. As I shed my robe Kennedy helps me into the dress. Securing the buttons on the back while I hold my hair out of the way.

I can feel their fingers moving up my spine, and as the last button is slipped into place everything goes quiet. The chatter from the other women fades and the light dims. For a second, a fraction in time, the only thing I'm aware of is Kennedy's face at the back of my head. Their mouth tilted down towards my neck.

A loud gasp followed by a clatter shatters the moment and I am forced to open my door to investigate.

"Sorry!" One of Genie's sister's calls, she laughs as she rights the bottle she pushed to the ground. "I knocked over the perfume."

I feel my lips strain as I tug them into a smile. I sit down on one of the hassocks with my hair still hanging by my ribs. Closing my eyes I rub my fingers against my temples. I give myself a moment of darkness to breathe.

"Kennedy," I say, my voice isn't loud enough to carry, but they hear me despite my volume. "Could you get started on my hair please?"

"Did you just say please to your servant?" Sloan askes. I open my eyes to see her on the fainting couch with a glass of champagne in her hand.

Where did she get that? Instead of glaring at her I just snap my fingers at a nearby servant. "You, take that from her and dispose of it."

Sloan makes a noise of protest as the servant nods and slips the glass out from between her fingers.

As Kennedy pulls strands of my hair into the braid I look across the room at the white wall with silver paintings covering it. Genie still hasn't come back from getting her dress on for which a small part of me is glad.

I took on all of the stress of planning this wedding so it would be easy and simple for her and Bobby. I'm not even nineteen yet and I already am going to get premature greying from this job.

As Kenney finishes curling the strands of hair around my face the door opens. Genie walks in and I feel my breath catch in my throat. No matter how much I pestered her, Genie would not let me see the dress she was wearing.

It's simpler than I expected. A simple sheath dress with silk flowers sewn onto the skirt and leading up to the sweetheart neckline. The entire dress has a layer of ivory tulle over it, the tulle leads up her front and bunches above her left shoulder forming a loose sleeve around her arm.

Her hair is longer than normal so I assume she had extensions put in. It falls to her shoulders in loose curls and some of the stands of her hair on the top of her head are being held back by her veil, which has white flowers dusted in copper powder bunched at the back of her head.

"Genie," I sigh. "You look stunning."

She is immediately showered with compliments and does a few twirls per Brooke's request. As the girls examine her and do unnecessary hair and makeup checks I hear Sloan make another comment under her breath.

"What part of the Kingdom is she from again?" Sloan muses. "That looks like a dress a farmgirl would get married in."

That is it.

I march over to Sloan, my navy Corneille heels clicking on the floor loudly as I do. I wrap my fingers around Sloan's forearm and lead her from the room. A few of the women look at us with their eyebrows raised.

I flash a smile and in my sweetest voice and say, "Excuse us for a moment."

Once out in the corridor, I let go of her arm and push her a few feet from me. "What the hell is your problem?" I demand. My voice is sharp and harsh.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sloan says with a shrug.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I hiss. "You been a pain all afternoon. Can't you be happy for Genie or Bobby? They're getting married for the love of the Court!"

"No!" Sloan shoots back. "I can't be happy for them."

"Then pretend to!" I snap. "I don't need to hear all of your stupid side comments."

"I can't!" Sloan cries throwing her arms out.

"Why not?"

"Why should I be happy for the Court letting them get married when it won't even give Lance a month!"

My anger dissipates into confusion. "What?"

"The Court dismissed Lance!" Sloan crosses her arms across her chest protectively. "He didn't even say goodbye."

"Oh, Sloan." My voice is sympathetic. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"You said you would vouch for him!" Sloan spits.

"I did!" I lie.

"Don't insult my intelligence." Sloan jeers. "I spoke to Grandfather. You aren't even old enough to be a member of the Court yet. Bobby didn't even know I submitted someone. He's been too busy with his other duties."

"Bobby has duties?" This is news to me.

"Yes, he has duties, Emma! We do stuff you know. We aren't insignificant just because you're going to be Queen."

"I never said that!"

"You might as well have," Sloan mutters.

"I don't have time for this!" I groan. "I'm not going to stand out here and let you guilt trip me! Fix your attitude before the wedding. I don't want to hear another word from you until you do!"

I spin on my heel and walk back into the bridal room. That's the first time I've told one of my siblings off and I haven't felt bad.

I don't feel bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun is high in the sky as we walk down the aisle. Flashes from cameras create spots in my vision. Nick as I have linked arms and he smiles just as I do, while hundreds of cameras are pointed at our faces.

My hands are sweating from holding the bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus leaves. Once I'm standing next to the altar. I'm able to look out at the crowd. Invited guests to sit in the seats we set out. Which is twelve hundred. Crowds of people stand outside the gates watching the wedding on a screen.

My family sits in the front row on the left side, I stand on the right, making it difficult to see my Grandmother. She has been walking with her cane again recently. She had a knee injury from the war that acts from time to time. As I crane my neck to get a glace at her I worry that she could fall on the rocky terrain leading to the reception.

The music I walked down the aisle to chances a Genie appears. Her mother and father are both walking her. Cameras swivel and bulbs flash as everyone tries to catch a glimpse at the Prince's future wife.

As Genie steps up the altar everyone takes their seats once more, in the silence between the officiant's words and Genie's arrival a wheezing cough comes from the crowd. My grandmother holds a handkerchief to her mouth.

My eyes bulge from my head as I immediately jump to the worst conclusion.

She's dying and she hasn't told us!

The officiant begins his speech, with I tune out almost instantly as my logic argues with my panic.

It's a cough. Everyone gets sick sometimes. We mustn't jump to conclusions.

The crowd laughs at something the officiant said in his speech. I smile as not to raise suspicion, a camera is watching me, I am sure of it.

After the laugher fades she coughs again, I can hear the wheeze in her lungs and the rattle of her throat.

DO. NOT. PANIC!

My court training prepared me to stay cool under pressure. Now is no different, but instead of people dying of famine or regions fighting one another, I have to withstand the urge to rush my Grandmother to see the physician.

As the ceremony continues I begin to count how many times she coughs. With each suppressed hack I feel my heart jump and wonder if she is going to collapse right in front of us.

I can't lose her. Not Grandmother, she's the only one I have.

SHE'S NOT DYING!

The officiant has Genie and Bobby kneel. Bobby has a black crown placed on his head, I use the term crown loosely, it's on a simple band. Genie is given a white one, but she is also sworn into the Court.

They stand, exchange rings, do the whole kissing thing, and walk away to an upbeat tune. As the guests stand and begin to walk towards the sunroom I watch my Grandmother cling to her cane and my Grandfather as she hobbles down the aisle.

I feel someone walk up bandstand beside me. I look over to find Brooke watching our Gradmather stop halfway down to path to catch her breath.

"She's sick isn't she?" Brooke says softly.

I look down at my cousin, the copper dress sets off her hair, making it shine like wet sand on the beach under the light of the moon.

"We don't know if she's sick," I reply, my voice thick and entirely unconvincing. "She could just have a cold."

"Yeah," Brooke murmurs. "A cold." Her tone betrays her words.

I'm hardly able to enjoy the reception. I can't do anything enjoyable when I'm looking over my shoulder to check if my grandmother is still standing every five minutes.

As the night wears on, the guests begin to trickle out, and servants swoop in to begin cleaning the vast room.

I go back out into the garden. I walk among the juniper bushes until I find the fountain that Logan kissed me next to. The water is still and reflects the stars in the sky. I brush an area off before sitting down on the edge.

Bobby walks up to me with his hands stuffed in his pockets, the wind of an approaching storm stirs the hair on his forehead. He glows with jubilance, a smile plastered across his face. I must look depressed because he sits down next to me.

"Who died?" He questioned jokingly.

Grandmother. "No one."

"Then why are you out here all alone?"

"I needed some air," I wave my hand over my shoulder to emphasize all the oxygen we are surrounded by.

"You're upset about something," Bobby states. "You've never been one to walk away from a party."

"I'm just a little stressed, that's all," I dismiss. "Besides, the party is over."

"Oh, right," Bobby grimaces. "The Court made its fist elimination today, didn't it?"

Realization jolts me, I feel my insides harden. I had forgotten all about that. But Bobby can't know that. "Yeah, the elimination." The lie glides out from between my teeth like butter on warm bread.

"The Court choose Genie for me," Bobby says. "Did you know that?"

I didn't.

"I was taking too long to find a wife, so they shoved her onto a train and said, 'Here you go! The girl you're marrying!' I got lucky with her."

"If Grandfather had it his way the same would have been done for me." I give a weak laugh.

"But you weren't about to let that happen, were you?" Bobby nudges my shoulder chortling. "No, you were too stubborn and headstrong to let them make any decisions for you."

"I guess," I shrug. "I'm much better at giving orders rather than following them."

"Oh, I know," Bobby grins, but then he sighs. "That's why they made you Queen." His voice turns sour and bitter.

I have no words to fill the hole where his title used to be. I can't offer any comfort. "I can only apologize for circumstances I had no control over so many times, Bobby."

"I hated you before they made you the heir." Bobby doesn't acknowledge my previous statement. "Because when we were little you were still their favorite. I remember when you turned two, Mother wasn't even pregnant with Sloan yet, They celebrated your birthday like there was no tomorrow. They acted like they didn't even have a son!"

His voice shakes, his chest shudders with a trembling breath. I know there is more. I don't say anything.

"Even after Sloan and Marcus, you were still sweet, precious, Emmalyne. You had it all everything. Their affection, their attention. You had it all and I had nothing. Well, almost nothing, that was. You didn't have the throne. That title was mine! Me! King Robert. It was the one thing that I had, that you didn't!"

I brace myself for his next words.

"Then they gave it to you. They gave you the crown." Years of pent up aggression and rage radiate off his words.

I don't want to know how many times he's made this speech to the bottles of soap in his shower. Or how long he stared at the back of my head willing it to implode. I can hear the remorse in his voice.

"I couldn't have it." Bobby's voice lowers. But that always happens right before someone explodes. "Do you know what they said to me while they were explaining why I was no longer to be king? Father said, AND I QUOTE! 'Emmalyne will do it better.' Do you know how damaging it is for a ten-year-old to hear that? The only reason he was deemed unfit was simply that his little sister was better!"

I nod. I am only able to nod. I had not heard that I was made queen only because I was a better alternative to Bobby. The news is numbing. It stings too, I wasn't chosen for me, I was chosen because I was more reliable than my brother.

"I'm not going to lie to you Emma," Bobby continues. "When they first told me that you were getting a trial, I was ecstatic. Because I finally knew I was going to have something you never could. A happy marriage."

My limbs freeze. The air constricts in my chest and my heart begins pounding three times louder.

He knows.

None of my marriages will be happy because they will be to a man. That with a man I could never be happy or satisfied.

How does he know!?

I'm ruined. That's it. I'm ruined. I'm on the next ship to the Exile. This is how I end.

"What do you mean?"I am able to force out. If he knows then I want to hear the words from his mouth. "Why won't I have a happy marriage?"

Bobby's eyes widen. He's said something he shouldn't have. He was too caught up in the passion of his confession that his tongue loosened and betrayed him.

I push myself to my feet, rising to my full height I look down on him. I steel myself to hear the worst as I command, "Why?"

Bobby tentatively hoists himself to his feet. "I turn twenty-one in a week."

I'll have his head. "So? That has nothing to do with this conversation!"

Bobby shakes his head, he looks down at his feet before raising his head, making his eyes meet mine. "I'm a member of the Court, Emma. I have been for a year now."

My trial.

"My trial!" I bellow.

My vision goes red and my face goes hot. Rage boils inside of me, my hands meet Bobby's chest when I shove him away from me.

"What did you do?" I demand, my voice shrill.

"It's obvious you love the Ryans boy." Bobby studders. "It has been since the day he got here. All I had to do was make the Court not love him."

Logan! He went after Logan! My heart races and I feel my hands clench into fists at my sides.

I take a menacing step towards Bobby. I may not have loved Logan but I cared for him in a way I have never cared for another person.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Bobby stumbles backward. "You can't have everything, Emmalyne. It isn't fair!"

"Fine," I force out between clenched teeth. "Here, have this!"

My fist sails through the air and lands on Bobby's unexpecting jaw. I use my momentum and spin around. Wrath fuels me as I walk away.

I don't look back when I hear him hit the dirt.