Elowen's POV:
The palace at night was not quiet.
Marble corridors gleamed under torchlight, reflecting shadows that moved like living things. Every door, every archway, seemed to watch us as we passed. I kept my gaze steady, aware that the palace itself was a kind of court, just one in which silence could betray as easily as words.
The steward led us through the palace corridors, and I began to understand how they planned to keep all the candidates under one roof.
The Royal Selection Wing was a long, sweeping hall of ivory stone and arched windows, rising three stories above the palace gardens. Each door along the corridor led to a private chamber, all identical in size and layout, though the décor varied to reflect the family or region of the occupant. Heavy tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of the kingdom — knights in battle, merchant fleets crossing rivers, festivals under banners. Soft rugs muffled our footsteps. Even at this late hour, the quiet hum of servants and distant torchlight made the wing feel alive, watched, purposeful.
Selene practically floated to her door, a pale blue key in hand. "Mine's here!" she said, already anticipating the reveal.
I stepped inside with her, taking in the room as if cataloging every detail for strategy rather than admiration. Her chamber was airy and luminous, the walls painted in a soft sky-blue that softened the marble and gold accents of the palace. Curtains of sheer silver-blue silk draped gracefully over the tall windows, catching the torchlight so that the room shimmered faintly. Her bed was large, draped in layers of pale blue linen and a quilt embroidered with delicate silver threads that traced the pattern of vines entwined around a single rose. Stepping onto the balcony, she could watch the gardens below — and any observer above would see a girl who belonged here.
The furnishings were understated but elegant: a polished writing desk in ivory wood, a small chaise in cream with blue embroidery, a gilded mirror that reflected the gentle candlelight. Every object seemed placed to enhance her presence — nothing ostentatious, nothing distracting — yet the overall effect was that she belonged here.
I glanced back toward the corridor. Each candidate had her own room along the wing. From what I glimpsed, colors ranged from deep crimson velvet to emerald green silk, frosty whites, and muted golds. Tapestries and embroidered details reflected both family history and the personality the occupants wished to project. Some rooms were warm and inviting, some austere and intimidating, others playful or dramatic.
I was next.
My door opened to a room that felt like an extension of myself: quiet, deliberate, restrained. The walls were soft silver, cool and reflective, catching the torchlight in gentle, muted gleams. Dark green accents threaded through the décor — a narrow embroidered border along the window curtains, cushions in deep forest green atop the simple chairs, and a slender vine pattern stitched along the bedspread.
The bed itself was modest yet elegant, draped in layers of silver silk that shimmered softly in the candlelight, edged with subtle green embroidery that hinted at the forests of Evermere. A single silver pin held the window curtains aside, allowing me to observe the palace gardens and training grounds below.
A polished writing desk faced the window, bare except for parchment and quill. Above the bed hung a tapestry in silver and green — not decorative, but suggestive of interwoven thorns, a reminder that beauty and danger were often inseparable.
The balcony itself was large, with dark iron railings patterned like thorns. From here, I could step outside, feel the night air, and see the palace from above — the flicker of torches along corridors, the glint of armor in the moonlight, the shadows of other girls pacing their own balconies, thinking, watching.
Where Selene's room invited attention, mine absorbed it quietly. Where hers shimmered and glowed, mine reflected light without drawing it. The room had the effect of stillness — precise, contained, and careful.
She looked at me with expectation. "You'll help me, right? Guide me. Push me forward."
I nodded once, letting the weight of that responsibility settle. "I'll guide you. But this wing… these rooms… every girl here has a weapon, even if it's made of silk and polish. Don't forget that."
She beamed. "Exactly why I need you."
"By being my voice of reason. My shield when I hesitate. Push me forward when I falter. You're clever, Elowen. And the Crown Prince… he notices clever girls."
I leaned against the window frame, folding my arms. "You want me to act as a strategist while you play the princess?"
"Exactly." Selene's smile was determined. "We've prepared for this our whole lives. Father drilled it into us. Mother rehearsed every curtsy, every phrase, every look. Now it's our turn. And if we're honest—" She leaned closer. "You know the Crown Prince is already intrigued by… everything he sees. You could help me navigate that, keep me ahead of the others."
I allowed a small sigh, more for my own benefit than hers. I had no desire to be part of court games. I had no desire to watch my sister dance in his favor.
But I also knew one thing: Selene's ambition was a force of nature. And if I refused to help, she would find another way. Likely one that would leave me even less in control.
"You want me to be your… pressure point," I said at last. "Push you when you hesitate, speak for you when you… think too carefully?"
"Yes!" she whispered, practically bouncing. "Exactly that. You keep me sharp, Elowen. You keep me… dangerous."
Dangerous. I almost laughed. That word had a strange taste in the palace air. Dangerous could mean clever. Dangerous could mean reckless. Dangerous could mean alive.
I glanced across the corridor to my room.
It was simple. Practical. Enough space to breathe, enough light to read, enough shadows to hide. No gilded fanfares, no polished expectations. It was mine.
I turned back to Selene. "Very well. But understand—this will not be about your beauty, or your smiles, or how polite you can be under Kael's scrutiny. It will be about what he cannot see. And I suspect that will be very little."
Selene nodded earnestly. "I know. That's why I need you. We can play the game together. You and me."
I didn't answer immediately. I simply watched the candlelight flicker against her face, highlighting her determination, her unrelenting hope.
I could support her. I could push her. But I would not play the game for her.
The silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of the hearth and distant footsteps in the corridors.
Finally, Selene climbed onto her bed, smoothing the silk beneath her. "Tomorrow, then," she said softly, "we start. Together."
I nodded once. "Together."
Even in this wing of grand chambers and candlelight, I felt the pulse of the palace around us. Observing. Judging. Waiting.
And I knew, as I settled into my quiet silver-and-green room, that these walls would see more than sleep. They would witness alliances, betrayals, and the subtle maneuverings that could crown—or destroy—every girl here.
The palace was larger than I had imagined. And so was the game.
And already, I sensed that our first night was only the beginning.