The Chosen One (The First Book)

Chapter 5

Queen Eloise spoke softly.

“Each of you represents your province. Your families. We expect you to conduct yourselves with dignity and grace during your stay here.”

Prince Julian glanced up from his meal, his dark eyes flickering over the sea of eager faces.

“Some more than others,” he murmured.

The comment hung in the air, directed at no one in particular, yet everyone seemed to understand it as a warning.

A servant approached with the first course, a creamy soup that probably cost more than most families’ monthly income.

The King began asking questions, nothing particularly difficult. Where each girl was from. What her family did. What she enjoyed. The answers came predictably. Music. Painting. Embroidery. Horse riding. Languages.

Then the Queen turned toward me.

“And you, Miss?” I swallowed.

“Aurelia, Your Majesty.”

“What do you enjoy?”

I hesitated.

“Reading.”

The Queen’s expression changed slightly.

“Reading?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What sort of books?”

“I don’t really have a preference.”

A few girls glanced at me. The Queen smiled.

“No preference?”

“I read whatever I can get my hands on.”

She seemed genuinely interested.

“And what was the last book you read?”

I almost said a book about farming. Instead, I remembered the old book I’d bought from a traveling merchant two winters ago.

“The history of the kingdom.”

The Queen leaned back slightly.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?” I smiled.

“Eventually.”

A small laugh escaped the princess. The Queen’s lips curved.

“Eventually?”

“It wasn’t very well written.”

The table went silent. The King looked at me. The princess was trying not to laugh, and the younger prince was openly grinning. The Queen only raised an eyebrow.

“Then why did you finish it?”

I shrugged.

“It was the only book I had.”

Something shifted in her expression, not pity, something closer to understanding.

“And did you learn anything?”

I thought about it.

“That people who write history tend to make themselves look better than they were.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then the King laughed, loud enough that several girls jumped. The Queen smiled.

“An interesting observation.”

I lowered my eyes.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

I had just criticized the Crown’s own history to the Queen’s face. Not exactly the impression I had hoped to make. But she didn’t look offended. Her eyes narrowed with interest instead, and she set her wine glass down deliberately.

“You read history because it is the only thing available to you?”

“Sometimes.”

“And yet you question it.”

“I question everything.”

A beat of silence.

The princess covered her smile with her glass, and this time I was certain I had gone too far.

Across the table, Prince Cassian’s lips twitched, almost a smile. He leaned back in his chair, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. He wasn’t amused by the way his brother was. He was studying me, as though he’d just discovered something he hadn’t expected to find at his own dinner table.

I looked toward the younger prince. Julian was still smiling, but there was something different in his eyes now. Interested, open and unapologetic.

I looked away and took another sip of wine.

I had come here hoping to be forgotten.

Instead, I had given them something to remember.