"I do apologize for Lord Caelynn's behavior," Ilva says, leading me through the twists and turns of the palace hallways. "There is a reason I was against my father's insistence that the brute should be my husband."

I struggle to match her pace as she walks. She moves quite easily for someone who wears such high heels. The halls in this section of the palace, while still beautiful, are much simpler. There are not nearly as much decorations on the walls. Something about the place feels colder. It's so quiet that I think I hear an extra pair of footsteps. I glance over my shoulder just to make sure. No one is following us.

I clear my throat awkwardly and attempt to continue the conversation.

"You were to marry Vael?" I ask.  I glance over my shoulder briefly. Still. no one is there. It must be an echo. "I don't remember hearing anything about that."

Ilva laughs. I'm not sure what's so amusing.

"Not officially. It was treated more as a 'strong encouragement.' Lord Caelynn was the only one enthusiastic about the idea." She scoffs loudly at the notion. "I prefer intelligent men. And without that awful, ghastly pallor. Your friend Aiden is far more preferable if I am allowed to be completely honest..."

I can't help but frown at her words. "I see." 

The princess looks at me with a raised brow, but I keep my mouth pressed in a straight line. "You may have been unfortunate enough to catch his eye," she continues. "No doubt he knows exactly who you are."

"He remembers me," I say, "We did know each other back then. It would be difficult to avoid the boy my father was personally training. I feel foolish not recognizing him."

"I'm sure it was the shock. You needn't worry," Ilva assures me. "As stupid as Lord Caelynn may be, he knows not to try anything with one of my brother's potentials."

I look up, startled.

"Potentials? Me?"

"Did you not read your invitation? You are eligible for Asier's hand," Ilva states. "A good match I say. Better than any other woman who has come to call."

She must be joking.

"That invitation was just a formality, wasn't it?" I ask. "I'm no noble lady. I have no influential ties to politicians or a grand education. Nor do I have access to wealth that could benefit the throne. I'm just...a scullery maid. A flower seller in my free time."

The very thought makes my stomach churn. Marry a prince? Take on the responsibilities of a consort? 

I think not.

"Your point?" Ilva asks.  She stops walking and takes me by the shoulders, her gaze serious. "I'll be frank with you, Lorelei. The people are restless. My brother's marriage will be a sign of stability. Which is why he must make haste to marry so soon after he takes the throne."

"What does this have to do with me?" I ask.

"You are the daughter of Roald Ciar, a hero to the people. It would make you a popular choice with the commoners. And, as a commoner yourself, you may bring with you new perspectives as well as endearing my brother to the public."

"The nobles will-" Ilva holds up her hand to silence me.

"They will keep silent and accept it," Ilva says. "I'll see to it. I am not my brother's right hand for no reason." She smiles warmly. "Besides, I will feel better if he chooses someone from a trusted family. You'll make a fine sister-in-law. I'm sure we'll be the best of friends."

I clench my fists. I don't even know how to argue with her. The imperial princess certainly has a way with words. She sounds so certain, so authoritative. It's no wonder she's her brother's advisor.  I bite down on my bottom lip in frustration. Try as I might, I can't think of a way out of this.

"What do you expect of me?" I let out a resigned sigh, my eyes cast to the ground. I ask. "Should I agree to go through with it, of course." Ilva smiles brightly. 

"You just have to show up to the ceremony. There, my brother will meet with you and the other ladies and pick the women who will stay. In the following days, the chosen will have the opportunity to win him."

"I..."

"Will be fine," Ilva assures me. She lightly squeezes my shoulders - an attempt at assurance, I suppose. "Asier will adore you. And if you worry about your family, know that should you be chosen, your family will be given an amount of gold for every day you remain in the palace. You have no reason to not try. There are only benefits."

My heart leaps into my throat.  A sum of gold? For every day in the palace? I think about my mother and Elya. They could buy better quality clothes and food so that my mother's health can improve. And some of that gold of course could go to Aiden's household. I shouldn't be ungrateful to them. 

It would be simple. I can become a candidate, collect the gold, and then convince the prince to reject me or drop out at the last moment. I'll go back home, and everything will go back to the way it was.

No marriage required.

"These are your quarters." We stop in front of two large, ornately carved doors. "You should have enough time to prepare for the night's events," Ilva tells me. "I'll be there too to address the other potentials."

Ilva pushes a panel by the doors and they practically spring open. I jump back in shock. I lean around Ilva to get a better look at the doors. I don't know much of how this sort of thing works, but it is fascinating.

"Lydia will give you a pin that will stop the mechanism should you want privacy," Ilva says.

She leaves with a wave, and I step inside the spacious room. The walls are a color somewhere between cream and rose. The pale amber floors look newly cleaned. A small table is situated near the balcony doors.

Finally, my eyes fall on the large four-post bed. I chuckle when I see Lydia lying amongst the pillows.

"Hard day?" I ask.

"Lady Lorelei! You're here!" Lydia jumps from the bed and quickly straightens out her dull yellow dress. "Apologies! I was just resting and-" I shake my head.

"The room is clean," I say. "Your work is finished. You're free to rest. I don't mind."

Lydia looks mildly surprised but says nothing else on the matter. Instead, she relaxes her stance and looks at me curiously. "Did you have a pleasant discussion with Her Highness?" she asks. She leans forward, her eyes glinting.

"It was...enlightening," I say. Lydia frowns at my vague answer.

"There must be more to it than that," she says. "You can tell me. I can keep a secret."

I consider it for a moment but shake my head. "It's fine. I'm just tired, Lydia," I say. "All I need is some rest before tonight's festivities."

"You mean dinner?"

"Dinner? What about the celebration?"

"That would be tomorrow night, Lady Lorelei."

Oh.

"I'll draw a bath and lay out your gowns," Lydia says. She disappears behind another set of doors. I assume that's where I'll be bathing. I fall back on the soft mattress and stare at the ceiling, my mind racing.

I can't seem to stop my heart from pounding.

The princess is absolutely intimidating. The woman seems to run the castle. She is amiable enough, however.

Potentially, she is a friend.

Vael, on the other hand, is completely unreadable. A far cry from the expressive-eyed boy my father would train in the gardens. I'm not sure if I should even take my chances with that one.

Oh well.

"Lady Lorelei!"

I sit up when Lydia emerges from the other room. She smiles politely and wipes her hands on her apron.

"Your bath is drawn," she says. She nods at the doors. "Will you need any additional assistance?"

I shake my head.

"No," I say. I notice the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Take some time to rest."

I walk through the opulent doors and emerge into a room full of white tiles. The wall opposite the door is lined with mirrors. The curved ceiling - like the rest of the palace - is painted with deep blue and gold. The bath is a basin in the floor, filled to the brim with steaming, clean water. I remove my gown and ease into it slowly. The warmth is welcome. It soothes my tired limbs perfectly. I allow myself to relax.

"Is the temperature acceptable?" I hear Lydia call.

"It's perfectly acceptable," I say, "Thank you!"

"The soaps and oils should be within arms reach!"

Sure enough, there are several bottles of various sizes and colors along the left side of the basin. I can't tell what each one is for. Words I have never heard of are scrawled across the labels. Knowing what each bottle is for is complete guesswork for the most part.

I finish the bath quickly and knock on the door.

"Lydia," I say. "I'm done."

I put on my slip and hang my gown over my arm before stepping out. Lydia greets me, holding up a pale blue gown. The flowing fabric is greyish blue. The skirt is long and layered. The style reminds me of a handkerchief. The sleeves are short, requiring me to wear gloves. A white ribbon wraps around the waist.

"I like this one," she says.

"Yes," I say. "That will do." 

Lydia smiles and fishes a corset from my luggage. With an excited gleam in her eye, she grabs a hairbrush from the room's vanity. She holds up the brush and grins, gesturing for me to take a seat at the vanity. "This is actually exciting. I always loved styling my mother's and sisters' hair. I missed it, to be completely honest."

"Sisters?" I say. "I have one myself."

"I have three, " Lydia says. "Two brothers too."

"Do you like having a big family?" I ask. 

Lydia nods eagerly, giggling.

"I like it so much that I want to make one of my own someday. Maybe a dashing nobleman will sweep me off my feet." She lets out a dreamy sigh. "And then we'll have a magnificent wedding. All my friends and family will be there. And there will be a feast unlike any other!"

I nod. It's normal for girls her age to dream of weddings and such. I just hope she doesn't end up disappointed.

"You know. I'm glad you're the one I'm working for," Lydia says. "Between you and me, I was rather nervous when I first heard I'd be your maid. But you're really easy to talk to. Not like those other ladies here." Her eyes suddenly widen almost comically. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that they are bad people. I'd never say that. I'm sure the majority of them are good women. But they can be rather stern. And standoffish. I barely even see their expressions change!"

"Stern?" I try to keep up with the conversation, but Lydia speaks so quickly. "Have you had trouble with them before?"

Lydia shakes her head. "Oh no no no," she says emphatically, "not really. But noblewomen tend to be rather particular and strict. Very strict. Mostly obsessed with punctuality, which is understandable I suppose. They also like their things just so. For example, their clothes have to be arranged just right. And if you brew their tea wrong or put in the incorrect amount of sugar..." Lydia shudders. "Especially that one woman who arrived earlier. Orielle von Caison, I believe her name was. Foreign merchant's daughter. Her mother's sister is the wife of a councilman. Absolute perfectionist that one."

She finishes brushing my hair and begins weaving a simple plait.

"I'll not put it up completely," she says. "I'll simply tie some braids in the back, and we'll be done."

"Nothing more?" I ask.

"It's only dinner," she says. "If you want, I can see if I can gather some silk flowers. I can decorate your braids! Or perhaps..." She begins to chatter excitedly about her ideas. I smile slightly. Her excitement is almost infectious. I mark Lydia as another potential friend. 

Even if my ears may fall off in the process.