The Centaurs were perhaps the most bloodthirsty of all the Landfolk. They were incredibly protective of their borders and lands. Some of their borders were shared with the Fae. The races did not get on.

The Fae were a vain race. They built the most beautiful woodland palaces which would balance over great waterfalls and be surrounded by mountains and forests. They would wear dresses and robes out of the very finest materials they made. There is no doubt that the Fae were the best architects and fabric makers in all the land. Their lands were also rich in precious jewels. They, however, did not like to get their hands dirty. Their armies would march into herds of Centaurs to kill the strong ones and take the younger ones. Forcing the young beasts to work in the mines. Once a Centaur reaches of age, they are creatures of great strength and power. Just what they Fae needed to mine and build their palaces.

The Centaurs were not innocent either though. They wanted to expand their territory. They would push into the Fae lands, slaughtering the small fae villages in their way. However, with the magic of Fae, the Centaurs were always pushed back to their lands or ambushed before they reached the villages. The Fae had an advantage.

There were three types of Fae. The Fae who watch the Past. The Fae who guide the Present. The Fae who see the Future. So often the Centaur's attacks were seen before they happened. The Fae eventually pushed them back out of their lands, killing thousands in a great battle. The surviving Centaurs fleed into the Westlands where they stayed hidden for many years.

-The History of the First War of Vivelle. Volume One. Chapter Fifteen, Verse Five.

The ball officially starts. Stringed instruments play happy melodies that swirl around the room. The first person to greet us is an older man. He is the Master Scholar. He is the man who not only leads all the teachings but knows all the laws and history of Vivelle. He will be officiating the Queen's Trial and making sure it agrees with the conditions that were agreed upon in the Mad Queen's surrender. Though he isn't the King, he holds a similar amount of power and the same amount of respect. Even the King cannot break the laws of the Queen's Trial.

His grey hair has been groomed neatly and his beard has been cut so it is even and smart. His face is wrinkled but his smile is always warm as are the soft shade of brown that are his eyes. He bows, his robes of black falling around him. Scholars must always wear plain black robes. Even at events like these.

"Your Majesties," he says as he stands again.

"Master Audwin," my father says with a respectful nod of his head. Even the King has to respect this man.

"The ball is off to a good start," the Master says. "I am looking forward to making my speeches later in the Night," he grins. My father smiles too and nods his head. "I never thought I would have to officiate another Trial. A Queen's trial is so rare, there is normally at least one boy born in each generation. So for there to be two Queen's Trials consecutively, well you can imagine it has caused quite the excitement," he says with his slightly raspy voice.

"It is an exciting time indeed," my father replies, though I can hear the slight annoyance in his voice.

"Perhaps it is fate trying to tell us something," the master sighs.

"What would that be?"

"Well, perhaps The Gift is trying to tell us that it wants a true Queen to rule Vivelle," he suggests and I feel a small smile tug at my lips. Especially when the Master's eyes dart to me.

"You're reading to much into it, old man," my father laughs as though he had heard a joke. Though I know there is hidden anger beneath it. "None of my daughters have The Gift anyway," he chuckles.

"I wouldn't be so sure," the Master says. "I have been doing a lot of research into The Gift recently after a very old text came into my possession. It seems that The Gift can appear at any time between the ages of infancy until the age of about twenty-five. Until it fully shows, it is always there in subtle ways." My father laughs again.

"I think you spend too much time with your text, scholar," he says.

"Perhaps," he replies, keeping a small smile on his face. But my heart races at his statement and I catch his eyes.

"Princess Illyana," he smiles. "You look as beautiful as ever," he grins as he bows in front of me. I smile and let him take my hand as he places a small kiss on it. "With eyes such like yours, many think that it is a blessing from The Gift," he replies. His eyes dart back to my father. "Though I am sure there is a perfectly normal reason for such a unique trait," he smiles before bowing again and walking away. Father lets out a low growl and looks at me.

"Keep smiling, Illyana. You are playing the part well so far. Ignore the crazy old fool. All those texts he studies and reads are scrabbling his mind," he spits with disgust. I smile at my father.

"Of course," I reply, though my glance falls back on the Master who is enthusiastically talking to his apprentice. It doesn't matter how much my father hates the Master Scholar, he can't replace him. The Scholars can't be influenced by the crown. Only the current Master Scholar can choose his replacement and the other Scholars who work on the ancient texts which still remain in our Library.

The next few men are some of my father's friends and also the members of the High Council.

"Councilmen!" my father booms as they walk toward us. We have five High Council Members. They are the men who help my father rule. They also guide him in his decision making. The robes they wear are a little more elaborate than the black ones of the Scholars. Theirs are a dark red colour and fall in layers of the finest silks and are encrusted with small jewels. The five of them bow in front of us. Their smiles are wide and slimy. They fill me with revulsion. 

"Your majesty," one says, standing up just before the others. "Princesses," he grins and I want to puke. This man I hate the most.

"Councilman Drake," my father beams. He is a very good friend of my father and he is the Military Commander. Each member of the High Council has a different role. Military Commander and Law enforcement, Head of Treasury, Food Distribution and agriculture, Race relations and Finally Healing and Medicine. Together, they work with my father to rule Vivelle. Though mostly what they do is make the poor poorer and themselves richer.

The only way you can be a councilman is if you are a Male Noble. Which means you are very rich and very distantly related to the Dulavelle family.

"Hello Princesses, you all look absolutely stunning this evening," Councilman Drake beams, his eyes crawling over our bodies. I try not to let my discomfort show and continue to smile.

"Thank you, Councilman," I reply as I look at him. Councilman Leander Drake is one of the more repulsive members of my father's councilmen. He looks charming enough, with his slightly wrinkled olive skin and golden blonde hair pulled into a small ponytail. Not many people are stupid enough to let them be fooled by it though. Then there are his grey eyes which always seem to pierce straight into you. "My son will be a very lucky man, should you chose him of course," he says to the king. I suppress a shudder at the thought of marrying Kristoff Drake. Councilman Drake's son.

"I have made no choice yet," my father chuckles. "But I am hoping your boy will make an appearance."

"Of course he will!" The councilman beams.

"I wish all of your sons the best of luck. May the best man win," my father chuckles and the Councilmen leave. My eyes glare into the back of Councilman Drake, wishing I could bury a dagger into it.

Many more officials come to greet us. There are the Governors who all rule an area in Vivelle under the King's instruction. Then there are the High Ranking Knights as well as the members of Red Guard which are Councilman Drake's elite team of killers and spies. Everyone who is everyone is here. Then there are the nobles. The families who only hold power over people because they are rich and distantly related to the Dulavelle name. All these power-hungry people all want the same thing.

They all want their sons to be the next King. 

The final people to great us are the Baylons. My father's family.

"Hello, Brother," Miguel Baylon says.

"Brother," my father chuckles, standing and embracing him with a heavy clap on the back.

"How are you enjoying the celebration so far?"

"This ball is exquisite," Miguel replies. "But you've always known how to throw the best parties," he chuckles.

"That I have," my father replies. Miguel looks to us.

"How are my wonderful nieces?" he asks.

"We are very well, thank you," I reply, keeping my answer polite.

"That is what I like to hear," he grins back. Miguel isn't bad. He looks very much like my father and likes to party and joke. The rest of the Baylon family are the same. They hardly have to work as their son is the King. Except for my grandfather. He is a miserable, cruel old man and when he looks at me with his piercing blue eyes a feel my heart begin to race out of fear.

"Granddaughters," he says, though does not bow or show any respect. He stands tall and straight, his hands clasped behind his back. He makes sure we know that he is above us. 

"That isn't how you greet one of your future queen's," Fallon says. I look at her with wide eyes. My grandfather's jaw tightens as he glares at my sister. Fallon, however, doesn't back down. She inherited his cold stare and the ability to make anyone cower beneath one of her glares. She gives our grandfather one of these looks now and I shudder.

"Fallon," our father warns. She doesn't back down. She just raises her eyebrow and waits for our grandfather to greet us properly. He doesn't.

Normally, Fallon wouldn't have made a fuss about it. She doesn't really care. However, she has always had a problem with Sebastian Baylon. Finally, she smiles humorlessly.

"You're excused," she tells him. He gives her one more pissed glare before looking at my father. Father shrinks back into the throne beneath his stare.

"Get your daughters under control," he snarls. 

"We're your princesses," Fallon tells him. "You are nothing but the King's Father. Treat us with respect or fuck off back to your horses," she says.

"Fallon!" Father growls. She looks at him, challenging him.

"You are the king father, to let a man disrespect your daughters is to disrespect you and undermine your authority. Are you really going to let that stand?" she asks. I look between the two. Father always looks at Fallon the same way he looks at his faher. With the slightest hint of fear. Out of the five of us, our father has disciplined Fallon the least. In fact, he pretty much leaves her alone. Especially as she got older and stronger.

"Father," our father says to our Grandfather. "Thank you for taking the time to visit, we appreciate your support greatly," he says. Grandfather raises his eyebrow in disgust and walks away. I look at Fallon who has a smug smile on her face. I shake my head and smile slightly.

Finally, all the greetings are over and we are allowed to leave our places by the thrones to join everyone below. There are excited claps as my sisters and I make our way back across the balcony and descend down the stairs. The room waits excitedly, wanting to mingle and chat with us. For them, it is a great honour, speaking to us. Talking to the Princess before all but one die.

"Princess Illyana," a woman, only a few years older than me says as she approaches.

"Luciana," I say with another fake smile plastered on my face. "I wasn't aware that you were being invited," I grin. She smiles too. It is sweet but I can see the malice behind it.

"Of course I would be." I snort and she shoots me a glare, showing her real personality. Wicked little viper. She is very beautiful. With pale smooth skin, large blue eyes and white-blonde hair. Most see her as a sweet little angel, but I know her for what she really is. A manipulative, nasty woman. Who also happens to be my father's official mistress.

"Is something wrong, Princess?" she asks, plastering on her innocent smile.

"Nothing at all Luciana," it is Fallon who speaks. "We just didn't think you were important enough to be invited to an event of this magnitude." I let out a laugh. I can't help it. Luciana glares at Fallon, then cowers under her cold blue stare.

"I am basically your stepmother," she whispers at us angrily. "Now stop embarrassing me," she hisses. The five of us laugh.

"You are just our father's bed companion. Nothing else. He's had plenty more before you and he'll have plenty after he gets bored with your company," Fallon shrugs. She turns and storms away leaving us to laugh. We don't mind our father having mistresses. But that one is a nasty bit of work. She seems to think that because she is sleeping with the King, she can order everyone around like she is the queen. No. The only queen was my mother. I look at my sisters.

"Split up or stick together?" I ask.

"Split up," Cordelia replies. I nod my head and we all leave in different directions to mingle with various people.

It is best to make good impressions. I am talking to a Noble family when I feel a hand on my shoulder. The girls I talk to giggle and I turn. Plastering another fake smile on my mouth when I see who it is.

"Lord Kristoff," I say. Councilman Drake's repulsive son. Not repulsive because of his looks. No. He is very handsome. His skin is pale olive and his hair a golden blonde which has been styled neatly. His face is angular and handsome and his eyes are soft jade green. He is tall and well built. He is also the head of the Red Guard, his father's elite force.

"Princess," he smiles. "May I have this dance?" he asks.

"Of course," I reply, taking his outstretched hand. The music swirls around the room as I place my palm on his shoulder and his hand slides down my back. He pulls me closer to him.

"You look beautiful," he says, his arrogant smile lighting up his face. He looks into my eyes.

"Thank you, Lord Kristoff. You look very handsome yourself," I reply back. It isn't a lie. He wears his event military uniform. A long, smooth black coat falls over his body, ending not far above his ankles. It is lined with gold and also has a gold belt around the waist. Over the left shoulder is a large black pad, again lined with gold. In the centre of the pad is the tree of Vivelle. He wears black trousers underneath the jacket and shiny black boots on his feet. On his hands are white gloves. It suits him. He comes across as the strong, smart, dashing young nobleman.

"You are too kind," he replies. We effortlessly glide around the room, knowing the dances without having to think about them. I feel his hand sliding further down my back. I let go of his other hand and pull his hand back to where it should be positioned. His dashing smile disappears, being replaced by a more dangerous one.

"Princess, something the matter?" he asks.

"I don't appreciate your wondering hand," I reply. He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, when I am king and you are my queen, my hands can go where they want. You might as well get used to it now," he chuckles.

"You're awfully full of yourself," I say. "You don't know if my father will choose you yet. I may not succeed in the trials." He chuckles.

"Of course your father is going to choose me. I am the son of his best friend. I am already the leader of the most elite force in the military. I am strong and handsome, something that he'll want to be passed onto his grandchildren. My family has a history of having boys and I'm not afraid to do what has to be done," he shrugs. I roll my eyes, shrugging off his comment. Though I know he is right.

"Father has plenty more friends with sons who are just as subtable of being the King Chosen," I reply, trying to fool myself. He laughs.

"Then there is you," he sighs, looking into my eyes. "Of course you are going to win the Trial. Have you seen yourself? Your eyes? You are the Kingdom's favourite. They think you have been blessed by The Gift." He grins.

"The trials are fair, Kristoff," I sigh as I roll my eyes. "My sisters are very good," I tell him. He laughs darkly.

"Well I want you," he whispers in my ear. "So you should give this Trial all you've got. Because if I don't get you and one of your sisters becomes my wife... Well I am going to take my frustration out on them and they will wish they were sacrificed in the Trial," he says with a wicked grin on his face. I glare at him. Anger swells up inside me.

"Threaten my sisters again, I'll end you," I growl. He laughs.

"You may be a princess, but you have no power over me," he whispers before sliding his hand down my back, touching the top of my bottom.

"Now I can put my hand where ever I like and don't ever argue or tell me otherwise again. I will be your husband and your King. You will do exactly what I say and you'll give me a son. Do you understand?" I glare at him. I yank my hand from his and take a step back.

"You aren't a King yet," I snarl. "Threaten me again and you'll regret it." He snatches my body, his fingers digging into the skin on my hips and he brings his face close to mine.

"It is going to be fun reigning you in," he chuckles darkly. "You can fight like this with me in private. It will be fun beating this reluctance out of you.  But when we are in public, you'll know your place." I try and push myself away, but he latches on tighter.

"Let go of me," I growl.

"Oh Princess, don't go making a scene now. I've heard how your father disciplines you. I think it is something I'll have to adopt once I'm king." I struggle out of his grip finally.

"I've warned you, Kristoff," I say before turning my back and walking away. My pulse is beating rapidly as I process everything. No one seems to have noticed our exchange. My eyes glance up at my father and I realise that the statement was incorrect. Because he is giving me a cold glare. I don't back down, returning my own gaze.

Please don't chose him, I plead in my mind. Though the sinking pit in my belly tells me that it is very unlikely.