CHAPTER 10 Sep 18, 2025 His smirk held the ghost of it-like he knew something I didn't, and wasn't finished yet. Then it hit me. The eyes. The voice. The way everyone had quieted the moment he entered. Oh no. Oh hell. That was Prince Alexander. I hadn't recognized him. In the garden, in the dark-when I told him I shouldn't have come. When I'd run like the walls were closing in. Heat rushed up my neck. My whole body went stiff. Clarissa noticed it. Her smile twitched, just barely. She leaned closer to me and whispered under her breath, "Try not to stare like a maid seeing fire for the first time." I didn't reply. Her perfume was choking enough. Lady Isolde stepped forward to begin the ceremony. She stood tall in her plum-colored robes, voice smooth and practiced as she addressed the rows of girls lined up like soldiers before a war none of us had trained for. She spoke of honor. Of representation. Of unity between the Crown and the provinces. Of how we were here not just as contestants but as ambassadors of our people. Every word rolled off her tongue like she had delivered the speech a hundred times. But her voice faded beneath the rush in my ears. I could still feel the press of his mouth on mine from the garden the night before. Still hear that voice soaked in moonlight and arrogance: You bit back. That's rare. I looked up, heartbeat stuttering. He stood at the top of the dais now, straight-backed and silent. Prince Alexander Solmar. Cloaked in black again, but this time the fabric gleamed with silver embroidery, shaped like falling stars. His face was unreadable. Sharp lines, distant eyes. The same boy from the shadows-but now encased in expectation and power. Lady Isolde turned toward him and stepped aside. "Your Highness?" He nodded once and stepped forward. The entire room stilled. Silk stopped rustling. Breaths paused. "I was told to prepare remarks," he said, voice low and level, cutting through the air like a blade unsheathed. "To welcome you. To speak of duty. Of tradition." His gaze swept over the crowd, slow and searching. "But truthfully..." He hesitated for the briefest second, like something bitter had caught on the edge of his tongue. "I find tradition overrated." A ripple moved through the crowd. He continued. "You've all come from different places. With different names. Different pasts. Some of you were born for this." His eyes flicked over the noble girls. "And some of you... weren't." I didn't breathe. I couldn't. His gaze moved again. Slower this time. Until it stopped. On me. "And yet, here you are." My lungs forgot how to work. "I won't promise love. That's not what this is. Not yet," he said, voice rougher now. "But I will promise fairness. And curiosity." Several girls exhaled, visibly relaxing. Others straightened their spines like they'd just heard a challenge. "I don't need someone who has it all together," Alexander said. "I need someone real. Someone who doesn't hide when things get hard." My cheeks burned. "Welcome to the Choice," he finished. "Let the testing begin." He stepped back. The moment passed like a tide rolling in, then out again-leaving sand in my throat. Rules were read aloud after that. Expectations listed. We would be evaluated weekly-on diplomacy, on etiquette, on grace, on knowledge. We were not required to fall in love. That part, Lady Isolde clarified, was optional. But obedience? That was law. "If you cannot learn," Lady Isolde said, sweeping her eyes across the room, "you will not last." Clarissa thrived under it. Her laugh echoed through drawing rooms. She hosted the tea tables with a queen's precision, positioning herself like she already wore a crown. "Tell me, Lady Thera," she asked with a light giggle, "how do you take your tea? Or should I say, how do the less fortunate take it where you're from?" The other girls laughed. Too loudly. I watched them from across the room, teacup untouched in my lap. "She's already charming the staff," Sarahl whispered beside me. "She's terrifying," another muttered. "But gods, she's good." The girls fawned over her. They didn't love her. They feared her. The way the court had always feared power and beauty. I slipped away whenever I could. The library became my sanctuary. Towering shelves. Dusty windows. No mirrors. No eyes. I curled in the farthest corner with books older than the palace itself. I read about former queens, about the first Solmar kings, about bloodlines and wars and forbidden pacts sealed in moonlight. One afternoon, Clarissa found me tucked behind a curtain with a book in my lap. "Darling," she said, her voice oozing pity, "they're not testing for literacy. You can stop pretending now." "I'm not pretending," I replied without looking up. She tilted her head. "No, you're right. You actually believe you belong here. That's worse." *** That night, I passed through the corridor near the kitchens when a servant girl grabbed my arm. She looked pale, eyes wide like someone who hadn't slept in days. "You're one of the quiet ones," she whispered quickly. "Listen to me. Don't go near the East Wing during the full moon. Not unless you want to see something..." Her hand trembled. I blinked. "Something what?" She glanced over her shoulder. "Beastly." She fled before I could ask anything more. Her footsteps echoed like a warning. And then-I heard it. It was low, almost too low to be real. A sound that didn't belong inside walls built by men. Deep and guttural, like breath scraped over bone. A low growl echoed through the palace walls.