The breeze curls in through the open balcony doors, tossing my hair as Mary attempts to braid it. This is the third time nature has ruined her work. It's a beautiful day out, which is why the balcony is open to begin with, but Mary isn't having it anymore. She huffs, straightening her shoulders as she stomps over to close the doors. She grumbles under her breath while angrily resituating the curtains. When she scuffles back over to me, her lips are pressed taut.

I stifle a smile, keeping my chin and my head straight. I watch her start over in the mirror, tugging a bit more aggressively on my locks because of her agitation. "Mary, do calm down. You know I have a tender skull," I mutter, scrunching my nose as she nearly pulls a strand of hair out of my head.

"Forgive me, dear," she says quietly, clearly trying to hide her annoyance. "However, we are already running late so I suppose you deal with it."

"If anything, I'll throw more of a fit to miss more of the event."

"Annaliese, it won't be that horrible. You tend to overreact."

I exhale loudly, expressing my own annoyance. "I do not. I want no part in this... this... whatever it is. Father is the one overreacting."

Mary meets my dull brown eyes in the mirror, a kindness in her bright blue ones. "He's doing this for you. For the kingdom."

I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain from arguing further. I understand why he's doing it; I just wish that it didn't have to come to this.

Once Mary seems satisfied with my hair, she scurries to my wardrobe to pull out the newest addition. My dressmaker, Clarice, says she worked nearly three weeks on it, full days and nights. It's an enormous gown, ridiculously so. The skirt billows as wide as my arms can spread, the bodice as tight as it could possibly be, aching my ribs already. I'm afraid to breathe too heavily in case the lacings snap completely. Though, I must admit, the calm lavender hue accents my pale skin nicely.

The moment I begrudgingly slip on my flats, there's a firm knock at the door. Mary lets out an exaggerated sigh before going to answer it. My personal guard, Max, stands tall on the other side, his posture stiff. The sight makes me shake my head in amusement. Max never lets go of his soldier form.

"Your Highness, His Majesty is awaiting your arrival to begin the ceremony," he says in a strong voice, bowing his head slightly.

"She's ready now," Mary replies, ushering my towards him. "Do try to smile, Annaliese. You are much more appealing when you smile."

In spite, I offer her a mocking smile to which she scowls at before continuing to push me out the door. I press my lips together as I stride alongside Max down the hall, towards the grand staircase that descends into the ballroom. Max fidgets beside me, but he's too formal to speak without being prompted, so I elbow him in the side to spill it.

"Is this really what your father wants?" he asks quietly, as if he's afraid of being overheard.

"Unlikely, but it's what he called for."

"It just seems a bit... rushed."

I click my tongue, dreading this entire ordeal more and more the closer we get to the entrance. "So it does."

Then Max stops abruptly, turning towards me. I frown in confusion at how anxious he appears. He is always so obedient to the king that he hardly thinks twice about some of the events that take place. In his mind, all that's important is getting the princess to and fro safely.

"Forgive me for speaking outright, but I do not think this is what's best for you or for the kingdom," he blurts, his eyes wide at his own actions.

I offer an understanding smile. "Well, neither do I, but unfortunately we aren't the ones to make such decisions."

He stares at me uncertainly, but as Mary previously said, I am already late. I start walking so he'll do the same, and I ignore his gaze as it shifts to me every so often. I want nothing more than to return to bed, but I also want nothing more than to get this over with.

I roll my shoulders back as we reach the top of the stairs, tilting my chin higher. My teeth grit at the sight of the crowd below, barely enough room for people to shuffle past others. Why on earth had Father invited so many guests? By skimming their outfits, I conclude most are noblemen and women with too much wealth, trying to stand out amongst the crowd. And most do--however, they look particularly foolish with their unique attire choices. Peasants had been invited as well, due to my constant nagging that it wouldn't be fair if they weren't. They are easily depicted in the midst of the crowd also, their dresses and suits not quite as polished or regal.

At least they came, and at least, for the most part, they seem to be enjoying themselves.

Max stays behind me while the herald to my right awaits my approval to announce my arrival. I nod curtly, and he rings the bell hanging from the wall, gathering everyone's attention. I avoid meeting eyes as the herald shouts my title, my gaze fixed straight ahead. I lift the skirt of my gown to descend the stone steps, well aware that every pair of eyes in the room is watching my every move.

As per usual with such events, the people fall to one knee with their heads bowed. The sight is unsettling no matter how routine it may be. I'm grateful when I reach the bottom and everyone rises once more. My father stands on a platform next to his throne, a gentle smile on his face as he waits for me to join him. The music picks up again the moment I climb the three steps leading to our designated seats. He motions for me to sit with him.

"Darling, you look rather beautiful tonight. I must say, Clarice has outdone herself this time," he remarks cheerfully. His glee renders me speechless for a moment.

"She's passionate about what she does," I say. I don't want to gush about a dress I utterly despise, but I don't want to discredit an honorable woman, either. I figure my response is a polite medium.

Father seems indifferent, simply responding, "Indeed she is." He rests his elbow on his throne, leaning closer to me. "You are aware of this process, correct? I know you can be a bit distracted when it comes to your court lessons."

I restrain from rolling my eyes. "I wish you had more faith in me, Father."

"Oh, Annaliese, it's not that I don't have faith--" He cuts himself off, catching my eye. He raises an eyebrow. "You're clueless, aren't you?"

"Well, if you must know, I was rather tired during my previous examination."

He shakes his head somewhat disapproving yet a small smile tugs at his wrinkled lips. "Do you remember anything at all, darling?"

"Let us pretend I forgot about my last few lessons and slept in."

He sighs, but explains, "This ceremony shall be the one where you choose five possible suitors. In three days time, there will be another ceremony narrowing those suitors down to two. Afterwards, I will give you exactly one month to choose who you shall marry."

"What if none of them appeal to me, Father?"

"Annaliese, you must consider your kingdom."

I clench my jaw to suppress a groan. Father shifts almost uncomfortably. It is clear the conversation has ended.

I will always consider my kingdom, but I will always consider my own wellbeing too. I will not marry and be unhappy. I will not.

Some time later, Father stands from his throne and a herald rings a bell, gathering all pairs of eyes in the grand room. A smile is plastered on my father's face, one I cannot tell apart from genuine and artificial. He favors his left leg, his right hip causing him trouble, yet if you did not know that, you would not notice the slight lean of his stance. He stands tall and confident, a powerful man completely knowledgeable of his ability. He easily steals the attention of everyone.

"People of Eudora, I offer my prayers to every man who believes he is worthy of my daughter's companionship. You may be in for more than you bargained for," he jokes, earning a rumble of laughter in return. "We shall begin the offerings now." He sits back down and a line forms, too many men for my liking each holding a gift of sorts.

I glance sideways to Max who stands at my throne's side. He does not look my way. We are in public; he cannot provide any assurance.

The first man steps forward, face smooth and skin dark, hair pulled back in a knot. He kneels before my feet, lifting his gift of jewels. A box of rubies and diamonds. He sets the box at my toes, then stands straight after his bow, daring to hold my gaze. "I am Prince Charles from the wealthy kingdom of Divitias. I offer Her Highness of Eudora all the jewels she desires. You will never be dissatisfied at my side."

It takes strong willpower to hold back so many eyerolls. I nod to him as I had been told to do, and he moves out of line for the next lad.

This second man is not as graceful as the first. His nerves are obvious in the way his hands tremble whilst holding glass slippers. He dips his head a little too quickly, a slipper toppling from his palm. He scrambles to catch it, then sets the pair next to the box of jewels. When he looks up from his bow, I smile gently when meeting his eyes. Others had been snorting trying to stifle laughter until they saw my acceptance.

The man seems surprised as well. His lips part and press, part and press. I ask him quietly, kindly, "Your name?"

"L-Leopold, Your Highness." He snaps out of his stupor then, attempting to stand tall as he clasps his shaking hands behind his back. "Prince Leopold from the inventive kingdom of Ibya. I offer thee glass slippers, the only pair in existence. The fairest shoes for the fairest lady."

I smile again and nod, dismissing him.

One by one, new names are announced. I've lost track of majority of them, truthfully. The gifts have all blurred together. Some are similar, some are strange. A duke offered soil from his vast lands. Something about it being the richest soil in all of Eudora. I'm not permitted to decline a gift or otherwise I would have. I am not a harsh critic, but soil? To each his own, I suppose.

My eyes are heavy halfway through. I try not to be rude, but Max has to discretely nudge me with his elbow every so often. I do not look at my father because I know I am probably disappointing him. I've seen his disappointed expression more times than I care to admit. I do my best to avoid it when I have the opportunity.

A couple of guards begin carrying the offerings away when the space at my feet becomes invisible. At last, the final suitor presents himself. I feel guilty for not listening. I feel guilty for not caring that I am not listening. But not guilty enough to listen--or care. He offers gold. Pure as it comes. He boasts that his kingdom has copious amounts.

The dancing starts up again and I am finally left alone. My father mingles with other kings of his age. I let out a heavy sigh and rest my cheek on my fist, the box of gold in my lap. I want to throw it across the room. Gold may be a necessity, but it makes a monster out of a man. I want no part in becoming one of those monsters.

"Do you think Father would execute me in the morning if I dismissed myself early?" I ask Max in a soft tone.

The corners of his mouth quirk, barely a grin. "It would not be in your best interest."

"Ah, I am used to such things."

His amusement disappears as the words flee my lips. It hadn't been my intention to make him feel guilty, but it appears that's exactly what I've done. I am a disappointment to all, I suppose. Another thing I am used to.

I am about to apologize for making him feel bad when a loud crash sounds from the entrance of the ballroom. The doors have been flung open by about five men, each of them with a bow and arrow raised threateningly. Max instantly unsheathes his sword, stepping in front of me. The guards in the room have done the same yet are hesitant to attack in case those arrows are for more than threatening.

"Good evening!" the man in front of the group shouts, his arms wide in a mocking gesture. There's a grin on his tan face. "We wish you no harm. In fact, we'd like to join the party."

My father scoffs, his guards at his side. His voice booms over the crowd. "You have no right here! Leave now or consequences will be in order."

The man is unphased. He had expected such an answer. "Let us see who has the better army, then, shall we?"

"You have a meek crew of four men."

"Sometimes four is all you need."

With that, the man raises his hand and arrows go flying. Remarkably, the only victims to be struck are guards, each of them hit in a shoulder. The crowd screams and panics, piling for the back exit though it is only ever used for palace staff. They trample each other like cattle for the door, hundreds trying to squeeze through a small gap.

Meanwhile, the four men hold their own against my father's before backup arrives. The men are quickly outnumbered, however, none of them have yet to be injured. I watch in amazement from around Max's side, still seated at my throne. They are so fluid in their movements, so agile and precise. In a strange way, it's similar to observing dancers.

Somehow, one of the men make it over to me. Max is a worthy opponent and makes the man sweat. Max fights him to his knees, their swords pushing together. Max kicks him in the chest, causing him to tumble down the three stairs of the platform. But the man springs back up and charges again. Max clubs him with the hilt of his sword in the jaw, and still the man stands again. This time, he spits blood from his mouth and growls.

Another guard arrives to assist Max, and Max yells, "Take the princess to safety, now!"

Neither the guard nor I have to be told twice. I leap to my feet, instinctively clutching the box of gold. I lift my gown with my other hand and run behind the guard, whose name I believe is Phillip. I want to see if my father has made it out of the ballroom as well, but I do not get the chance. In no time, the two of us are sprinting down the hallway towards the safe room--a secret room built into one of the castle's walls. There are a few of them in various spots.

As we are running past one of the large windows in the hallway, it shatters. Naturally, both of us duck and the box of gold flies from my hands. Glass scrapes across my knuckles as it flies. I raise my head after a moment or two to see Phillip defeated. His sword has been snatched from him and he sits on the floor, leaning against the wall with his hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers.

Then I meet green eyes as the intruder hovers over me.