Of course, the day I want to see Erie being herself in action is the day I'm trapped in the castle. Mom and Dad are so focused on judging the suitors in the competition they couldn't handle some urgent matter that came up. So they shoved me in the throne room to deal with the situation.

Dad's throne isn't what I was expecting. I'd thought it'd be grand and comfortable, but it's stiffer than steel. The golden towering frame of the throne almost reaches the giant ceilings, the padding made from white silk. Mom's throne is similar, but it's also different. Hers and Dad's thrones have different patterns in the upper part of the back, the swirls merging in varied directions and forming different shapes. But of course, that's the most uncomfortable part. Sitting on a throne so large tends to draw attention to the person sitting in it. When you have bright blue skin in a room full of gold, you always become the center of attention. Especially to the heads of trading.

"Vasclite is trying to inflate their prices again." Says one of the members of the head of trade. Their dull golden hair is styled in an undercut, their blue skin dazzled in some piercings. They're one of Grandma's favorites, Mykla is the kind of person who always gets straight to the point. "They're also demanding an increase of recensium be imported to them."

"Increase? We've already donated as much as we can to them without affecting our trade routes!" Galto. He's one of the more aggressive ones. Most of what he says comes out in bursts of screams.

Morca, one of the more refined ladies, cuts in. "Not so much the routes, but rather so our buyers."

"Why is Vasclite even asking for more materials?" I ask.

I probably sound like an idiot right now, but who are my subjects to question me? Not as though Mom and Dad have been focused on actual problems lately.

"For their stupid technology." Galto scoffs. "Those Vasclites think they're superior just because they have good tech. It's getting ridiculous."

"They're warlords, sir." Morca remarks.

"So? They still shouldn't be trying to drain our planet dry!"

I give up trying to pay attention. If I let them argue, somehow, these guys will find a way to sort this situation out. But their conversation gets cut off halfway through as the towering doors slam open. Guards move to the side as I see Morven enter the room. He rushes between the three, almost tripping on the carpet because of the thick dress he's wearing. Is he that desperate to hide his pregnancy from his parents? I've never seen him in such thick clothes, especially something that fully covers his body.

Mykla clears their throat. "Princess Azalea? What is your servant doing here?"

Morven shoots a glare in their direction. "I'm here to update her about today's challenge and the suitors' total scores."

Judging by the look, he wishes to talk in private. With a wave of my hand, the guards escort the head of trade members out of the royal hall.

I let my body relax into the uncomfortable chair. "Yes?"

"That's the first thing you say to me?" He huffs and stares down at me, now right in front of the throne. "And I'm trying to update you about your wife."

"Erie is not my wife, Morven."

"Well, not yet. She will be. I worked way too hard to get her to sign up for this competition."

I pause to take in his words.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He freezes, realization flashing across his face. "Oh. I didn't tell you about that yet."

I can't help but get to my feet. I'm this close to slapping him right now. "You forced her to join?"

"I didn't force her!" He insists, "She fell in love with you the same moment you did!"

"Which was when?" I cross my arms.

"When you two danced for the first time. I mean, how did you not see it?" He sighs dreamily. "I can tell. When you meet your soulmate, and everything clicks into place. Your life becomes the happiest thing you would have hoped for, all your wishes come true, and everything around you feels like a blessing."

Somehow, my rage fades. Maybe I was— am lovesick. Maybe I do think Erie was created just for me. Maybe I do think Erie is my happily ever after. I release the building tension in my muscles with a sigh. "I don't think we're soulmates, Morven."

"You didn't see her? She looked as love-sick as you did! There's no way she didn't fall in love with you."

"She's Oxrian. Love doesn't work the same for her as it does for us." I take my seatback.

"Yet, she's still smitten by the magnificent princess sitting in front of me. The one, the only, Azalea Sezo. Beautiful, smart, kind, and most importantly, a dumbass."

"You just said I was smart."

"Well, not when you're refusing to open your eyes."

I sigh. "Morven—"

"No. Don't Morven me. I'm not wrong, and you need to open up your eyes and realize that." He takes my hands in his. "I mean, if she wasn't in love, would she be working this hard for the competition? Would she be working this hard to beat Jhorlauhin?"

Silence. It seems to support his argument.

"Exactly. And, I mean, at this point, she doesn't have a chance."

Why do I jump up again? Is it normal to feel so... Panicked? Shocked? Confused? It never has been for me. The one time I can't keep myself in check, and all because of Erie. "What? What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "She's falling behind. Too far behind. If you don't tell your parents you've found a spouse to marry, then it's going to be him."

No. No, no, no-no. Please tell me I'm hearing things. Erie? Gone? Do I have to marry Jhorlauhin? That's not possible. Erie's been doing just as well— if not, then better than him.

I'm in such a disconnect from the world around me the words slip from my mouth before I can think about them. "Morven, you're dismissed."

The worry from his face fades to unsureness. "Dismissed?"

"I said, you're dismissed. Now leave before I have to call a guard to make you."

I watch as he walks out of the hall. Shocked, dazed, confused. I mean, who wouldn't be? Never, never in the ten years he's worked for me have I dismissed him. And like that, nonetheless. With such venom in my voice. I haven't even spoken to someone with that much cruelty and coldness.

It makes me wonder: how much more of this suffering is left for me? How much more do I have to lose? How much more is this going to push me over the ledge?