Elowen's POV:
The summons came at dusk.
A silver-chased bell rang through the candidates' wing, its sound bright and ceremonial. Pages in royal livery moved through the corridors, delivering identical sealed cards.
I broke my card open at the small writing desk near the window.
The Second Trial will commence in three days.
Theme: Sovereignty in Action.
Each candidate will host a private council attended by members of the court and His Highness.You will present your vision for governance during a time of unrest.
I read it twice.
Private council.
His Highness will be present.
My stomach tightened.
I walked out of my room and met with Selene.
Selene inhaled sharply. "This is perfect."
I turned.
Selene's eyes were bright — not with fear.
With hunger.
"This is not about beauty or charm," Selene said. "This is strategy."
"It is performance," I corrected softly.
Selene smiled. "Then we shall perform."
The Preparation Hall
The following morning, the candidates gathered in the long preparation chamber assigned for planning.
Maps were unrolled. Reports were distributed. Advisors circulated.
And already, factions were forming.
Mariette Duvall stood beside Marisella Valecrest near one of the tall windows, sunlight catching the dark silk of Mariette's gown. She looked every bit the composed noblewoman — thoughtful, generous, helpful.
"Unrest," Marisella murmured, scanning the provided brief. "Border disputes. Grain shortages. Merchant unrest."
Mariette tilted her head thoughtfully.
"You must be bold," she said gently. "Speak of decisive taxation reform. Stronger crown oversight. Immediate military reinforcement at the borders."
Marisella blinked. "So forceful?"
"Strength commands respect," Mariette replied smoothly. "His Highness is not drawn to hesitation."
Marisella straightened, encouraged.
"And speak early," Mariette added. "Control the room before others can soften the tone."
Across the hall, I watched them.
I did not trust Mariette's softness.
"Something is wrong," I murmured to Selene.
Selene was scanning the economic report with sharp focus. "With what?"
"Mariette does nothing without advantage."
Selene followed my gaze toward Marisella.
"She is helping her."
"No," I said quietly. "She is shaping her."
Selene's brow furrowed.
"We should not split ourselves too thin."
"No," I agreed. "We divide and conquer."
Hailey brightened. "Assign me something difficult."
Selene smiled faintly. "You may regret that."
We moved toward an empty table near the tall windows.
I quickly assessed the materials.
"Three central problems," I said, sorting documents into separate stacks. "Border instability. Grain shortages. Merchant unrest."
Selene nodded. "I'll take economic stability. Taxation models, trade incentives, guild negotiation."
"Good," I replied. "Lady Hailey, take diplomacy. Border alliances, noble loyalties, military resource distribution."
Hailey's brows lifted. "You trust me with diplomacy?"
"I trust you with reading people," I said simply. "Diplomacy is reading people."
Hailey looked absurdly pleased.
"And you?" Selene asked.
I tapped the stack of grain reports.
"Food controls nations more effectively than armies. If we understand the shortages, we control the unrest."
Selene leaned closer. "We should coordinate our tone."
"Yes," I agreed. "Measured strength. Not forceful dominance."
Across the hall, Marisella's voice carried slightly.
"…immediate tariffs could stabilize revenue—"
My gaze flicked toward her.
Mariette stood beside Marisella, nodding gently.
Selene followed my glance.
"Too aggressive," Selene murmured.
"It will invite challenge," I agreed.
"And comparison," Hailey added.
I smiled.
"Then let others stumble where they choose."
We worked for nearly an hour.
Selene built structured tax models, carefully adjusting percentages to avoid unrest while strengthening treasury flow.
Hailey drafted alliance frameworks between border lords, identifying which families required flattery and which required firmness.
I studied agricultural patterns with unsettling focus.
"Look," I said finally, spreading three reports side by side. "The shortage isn't solely drought-related. Storage mismanagement. Private hoarding."
Selene leaned closer.
"So the problem is not nature."
"It's control," I replied. "If the crown creates centralized storage incentives instead of seizure mandates, merchants retain pride while the crown gains leverage."
Hailey grinned. "You think like a general."
"I think like someone who dislikes chaos," I answered.
Selene studied me for a moment.
"You will speak during my council," she said quietly.
I shook my head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because this is yours."
Selene's expression sharpened. "You are part of this."
"I will advise," I said gently. "Not present."
Across the hall, Marisella's voice rose slightly again — firm, assertive.
I glanced toward her once more.
Mariette's hand rested lightly on Marisella's arm.
Encouraging.
Guiding.
Or steering.
"She's being positioned," I murmured.
"For what?" Hailey asked.
"For exposure," Selene answered.
And perhaps downfall.
Not far from them, Arabella Virec calmly annotated a treaty with elegant, flowing script. She did not cluster. She did not seek alliance.
She worked alone.
Certain.
As though the council was already hers to command.
By mid-afternoon, ink stained our fingers, and parchment covered half the table.
Selene exhaled slowly. "We need historical harvest cycles."
"Yes," I agreed immediately. "Five years at least. Possibly ten."
Hailey frowned. "I haven't seen those reports here."
"They wouldn't provide that depth," I said. "They want to see how far we are willing to look."
Selene's eyes sharpened. "The library."
I nodded.
"I'll go."
Hailey sat back. "Alone?"
"Yes."
Selene studied me carefully. "You don't have to carry everything."
I smiled faintly. "Research is not a burden."
There was truth in that.
Books were simpler than people.
"I'll return before supper," I added, gathering several notes.
Selene squeezed my hand briefly. "Be careful not to disappear entirely into those shelves."
"I won't."
But I was already retreating.
Around the hall, other girls were making similar decisions — sending attendants to fetch ledgers, requesting access to restricted documents, whispering alliances into motion.
The competition had sharpened.
Three days.
That was all we had.
The palace corridors were quieter in the late afternoon.
I walked briskly, skirts whispering against marble floors, mind already racing ahead to grain cycles and distribution models.
I turned a corner —
And nearly collided with someone.