Elowen's POV:
The summons arrived just past midday.
All candidates were to gather in the East Lecture Hall for an official instruction on the history of House Viremont.
The message alone sent a ripple of renewed competitiveness through the wing.
"A history lesson?" Lady Mariette scoffed as we walked the corridor. "As though we were schoolgirls."
"It is likely a test," Isolde replied coolly. "They will observe who listens. Who understands. Who belongs."
Selene walked beside me, her fingers brushing mine briefly — not by accident.
"We will listen," she murmured. "And we will remember."
The East Lecture Hall was smaller than the throne chamber but no less impressive. Arched windows spilled light over polished desks arranged in a semicircle. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with leather-bound volumes bearing silver crests.
At the front stood an older man in dark formal robes, thin and severe, silver hair tied neatly at the nape.
"The Master Archivist," someone whispered.
Beside him stood Thomas.
He looked far less at ease than he had in the corridor — posture straight, expression carefully neutral. Yet when his gaze swept the room, it paused only a fraction too long when it reached me.
Selene noticed.
Of course she did.
She did not look at me — but I felt the faint pressure of her knuckles against mine in warning amusement.
"Ladies," the Master Archivist began, his voice sharp but controlled, "you seek proximity to the Crown. It is only fitting that you understand the bloodline you aspire to join."
A few girls shifted at the phrasing.
Seek proximity.
Not affection.
Not partnership.
Thomas began distributing slim volumes to each of us. When he reached me, he inclined his head slightly.
"My lady."
His tone was professional.
But his eyes were kind.
"Thank you," I replied just as quietly.
At the front, the Archivist continued.
"House Viremont was not born of peace. It was forged in consolidation."
He gestured toward a large painted family tree mounted behind him — branching lines of names in silver ink.
"The first King Viremont united five warring territories under a single banner. Through marriage, treaty, and conquest."
Mariette leaned back lazily in her seat.
"Conquest," she repeated under her breath, as though it were romantic.
Selene, however, leaned forward.
I saw it — the shift in her focus. She was not merely listening; she was absorbing.
The Archivist spoke of strategic marriages that ended rebellions. Of queens who brokered trade alliances when their husbands could not. Of one particular queen — Elara Viremont — who had ruled as regent for seven years during her husband's illness and expanded the kingdom's influence beyond its borders.
"She is remembered," the Archivist said carefully, "as one of the Crown's most capable minds."
That caught Selene's full attention.
Thomas stepped forward then, unrolling a map across the central table.
"Here," he said, voice steadier now, "you can see the original borders before Queen Elara negotiated the southern accords."
He glanced toward us — toward me, perhaps unintentionally.
"Strength does not always arrive with a sword."
The words settled softly in the room.
Hailey, seated two places away from me, scribbled notes quickly.
I leaned slightly toward her. "You take this very seriously."
She looked up, almost startled — then gave a small, sheepish smile.
"My father says history is merely a collection of repeated mistakes," she whispered. "I prefer not to repeat them."
I found myself smiling back.
"That seems wise."
A pause.
Then, hesitantly, she slid her notebook slightly toward me — enough that I could see her neat, precise annotations in the margins.
Marriage = political leverage.
Queens influence trade routes.
Public loyalty tied to stability.
"You're organizing it," I observed quietly.
"It helps me think," she admitted.
"It's very good."
Her cheeks pinked faintly.
Across the room, Isolde raised her hand to challenge a detail about naval treaties, her tone edged with superiority. Mariette countered with commentary about military lineage.
The competition had already begun.
But beside me, something softer unfolded.
Selene reached for my hand under the desk — not in strategy this time.
In reassurance.
I squeezed back.
For the first time since arriving at the palace, we were not merely sisters navigating survival.
We were allies.
Partners.
When the lesson concluded, the Archivist closed the final volume with a decisive snap.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you will be asked to present which former queen you believe best exemplified the strength of House Viremont — and why."
A murmur spread instantly.
A presentation.
An argument.
A test.
Thomas began collecting the maps, and as we rose, Hailey lingered awkwardly beside me.
"If you…" she began, then hesitated. "If you would like to review together later — I mean, only if you wish — I would not mind the company."
It was not a strategic offer.
It was a careful one.
"I would like that," I said gently.
Her relief was visible.
Selene linked her arm through mine once more as we exited the hall.
"Well," she murmured thoughtfully, "Queen Elara seems promising."
"You noticed that quickly," I replied.
"I notice many things."
Her gaze flicked briefly across the room — landing, unmistakably, on Thomas before returning to me.
"And so," she added softly, "does the Crown."
I did not ask what she meant.
But as we stepped back into the corridor together — Selene steady at my side, Hailey trailing a little closer than before — I realized something important.
The palace was not simply a battlefield of rivals.
It was becoming a web.
And we were beginning, carefully, to choose which threads to hold.