Chapter 7
762 Words
“Open it.”
“I was planning to.”
She watched impatiently as I broke the wax. Inside was a single sheet of parchment.
Candidates will assemble in the western courtyard at the second bell. Appropriate attire is required. No assistance will be permitted.
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Eliza leaned over my shoulder.
“The first test.”
“Test?”
“I heard there would be one.”
“You heard?”
“Everyone heard.”
“Except me, apparently.” She smiled.
“You’re very good at being uninformed.”
“I’ve had practice.”
⸻
By the second bell, all twenty candidates stood in the western courtyard, which the palace had transformed into something between a training ground and a garden. Targets lined one side. Tables covered with books and writing materials stood beneath a canopy. Further away, several horses waited behind a wooden barrier.
I stared at them. No. Absolutely not.
A palace official stepped forward.
“Today is not an elimination.”
A collective breath seemed to leave the candidates.
“You will each be evaluated in several areas. Intelligence, practical judgment, physical ability, social conduct, and adaptability.”
Someone beside me whispered,
“Physical ability?”
I looked at the targets, then at the horses. Wonderful.
The official continued.
“You are not expected to excel in every category. We are not looking for perfection.”
His gaze moved across us.
“We are looking for suitability.”
That word made my stomach tighten. Suitability for what? Marriage? Queenship? Or simply surviving palace life?
The King and Queen watched from the balcony above, the princess beside them, and of course, the princes were there too. Julian looked entirely too entertained. Cassian looked serious. I wondered if he ever looked at anything else.
The official lifted a parchment.
“The first exercise will be archery.”
Several candidates visibly relaxed. I did not, because suddenly everyone was looking at me. Julian noticed, his smile widening.
“Oh,” he murmured.
Cassian glanced toward him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
The official called the first candidate forward. She took the bow awkwardly, and the arrow struck the outer edge of the target. Polite applause followed. The next candidate did slightly better. Then another.
I stood at the back of the line, trying not to think about it. The weapons I’d used at home were old, poorly balanced, repaired more times than I could count. This bow looked like it had cost more than our house.
“Miss Aurelia Vale.”
I stepped forward. The official handed me the bow. I tested the weight. Too light. The string was tighter than what I was used to, and I adjusted my grip.
Someone whispered behind me.
“She said she could shoot.”
“Apparently,” another voice answered.
I ignored them. The target stood fifty paces away. I drew the arrow, and the courtyard disappeared, the palace disappeared, the candidates disappeared. There was only the target.
I released.
The arrow struck near the center.
Silence.
I lowered the bow. The official stared at the target, then at me.
“Again.”
I drew another arrow.
Released.
Closer.
A murmur passed through the courtyard. The third arrow landed almost exactly beside the first.
I turned toward the official.
“Is that sufficient?”
He looked mildly stunned.
“Yes.”
I handed him the bow. As I stepped away, I heard a low laugh. Julian, leaning against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed.
“You didn’t mention that last night.”
“You didn’t ask.”
His eyes traveled briefly toward the target.
“I’ll remember that.”
Before I could answer, Cassian spoke.
“Julian.”
His brother looked at him.
“What?”
For a moment, the two brothers simply looked at each other. Then Julian laughed softly.
“I was congratulating her.”
“You can do that without cornering her.”
Something about the exchange made the courtyard feel smaller. I looked away as the official called the next candidate, and moved toward the edge of the courtyard.
Eliza came up beside me.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at the princes.
“I’m starting to think they do.”
I glanced back. Cassian was speaking to one of the officials. Julian was still watching me. I turned away.
The test had barely begun, and somehow, I already had a feeling that passing it might have been the worst possible outcome.
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