I don't know why Dad was so persistent in getting me to eat breakfast with the family. I assume it's a ploy to get me to listen to everyone chatter about the suitors. Maybe he wants to try conning me into aiming for the suitor he liked best.

    Breakfast is not to my liking. Roasted bread slices with overly-sweetened jam and small apple slices.

    The morning sun streaming through the towering windows. They bounce all across the almost-empty silver room and burn my eyes. No one else is phased, though. If Mako and Marisous filled the remaining empty two seats, they would act just the same.

    I don't like the look everyone is giving me. They seem questionable yet eager. As if their sole plan for breakfast was to interrogate me. And knowing my family, I wouldn't be surprised.

    It shocks me when Grandma of all people speaks first. "So you're going to be going for that stupid Laytive, right?"

    I don't understand why she spoke first. She's always been the quiet and reserved type. Calm feared, and most of the words she speaks always are laced with venom. The only reason she's even married is that Grandpa was always a talker, even though he's slightly oblivious.

    She did make a good queen, I have to admit. Even though she barely used her voice for something other than a lullaby, what she spoke counted. Maybe it was her tone. Maybe it was her straightforward manner. Maybe it was just the way she pronounced her words, always putting emphasis on her T's and making every syllable sound like a threat. Somehow with so few words, a flat tone, and an imperative manner, she made Zophoria thrive. The planet hasn't felt such economic wealth in decades.

    Dad was almost a mirror image of her. Except somehow, his words are always gentle and halted. All he speaks in is timid and fragile tones. No clue where he got it from. But I can still hear his soft melodies of a voice when he speaks after Grandma. "Stupid? That Laytive was a dream boy! He's almost perfect."

    Mom stabs her food a bit too aggressively with a fork. "Almost too perfect."

    "Imagine his only flaw is existing," Grandpa chuckles. "I can relate."

    And of course, that gets a sigh out of everyone at the table. Grandma is the one who scorns him. "This is why our son is like this, Aquar."

    "Nah, it's good to admit your flaws."

    Dad lets out a soft chuckle and turns his head to me. "Well, how about we focus on Azalea? A lot was happening last night. I would love to hear about it."

    "What's there to hear though?" Mom sighs. "That guy wants to bone her. He's suspicious. I don't like him. Simple as that."

    "Well, we don't know that for sure!" Dad rubs his hand on Mom's upper arm, the thin silken fabric of his periwinkle gown sliding down to his elbow. "I mean, judging from last night we might not have to go through with the competition."

    I don't like the look he gives me. That one of pure joy and hope. He hasn't had that in a long time.

    Grandpa chimes in. "Wait, what happened last night? And haven't we already put in, like, a few thousand marikos just to set all this up?"

    "Aquar, you were there." Mom scoffs. "If you weren't as drunk as a freelancer, that is."

    Grandma glares her way. "You address him as Lord Aquar."

    Before they can get into one of their common arguments, Dad steps in and turns everything back to me. "You should've seen the little Starpiece after she danced with that boy. She was so awestruck she could barely keep her balance." I don't like his dreamy sigh. "She couldn't even focus on the next person she had to dance with."

    Mom snorted so loud I thought she would break a nerve. She must be finding my whole dilemma amusing. "You mean that random Oxrian who she danced with? Oh come on, that wasn't even her fault. That girl was just a clutz."

    "I'm intrigued to know what she was doing here." Grandma bites her lip. "Judging by her age and the fact she's a terrashifter, no doubt she was sold off not that long ago. Maybe she's just here for a client."

    I don't like that implication. It's rare for an Oxrian to be found away from their homeworld, but not as rare as one may think. The construct of their society and government is so cruel and horrendous. You do one thing that the upperclassmen don't like, they send you off. But most of the time, it's just younger children. The adults commit more "sins" than do the kids, but they're allowed to sell their kids off as a compromise. Some even have kids solely to sell them off to cash. The list of uses people manage to find for those kids never ends.

    Erie isn't that old. At the bare minimum, she's the same age as me. Which has to mean she was sold away as a kid. But what did she end up as? An assassin? Thief? Slave? Prostitute? It's even possible she was used for reproduction. The heartless souls out there always take advantage of the beautiful ones. It's always the ones who embody everything charming and alluring in the universe that are abused.

    I want Erie to come back. To hope and pray she'll be at the competition. If I just stick it out long enough, wait to see what happens, maybe she'll be there. Perhaps that's why Taquib and Kavas ignored my prayers to cancel the competition. They wanted me to meet the girl they created just for me. They wanted me to see their work, to see what they wished to bless me with. But that may be too much to ask for.

    Dad is hopeful I'll end up with Axelo. I think they're all hoping for that. But at the same time, I don't want him. I want the girl who practically fell into my arms and blessed me with her existence. But how do I tell them? How do I get the words out? How do I disappoint my parents with what child they have left?

    My only option is to come up with a good excuse in hopes Erie will show up. Even though the conversation is so far out of my reach, I blurt the only thing I can think of.

    "I want to go through with the competition. I want to see if the Laytive is actually worth what he says he is."

    There wasn't a word of complaint. If anything, I saw approval dance in their eyes.