Chapter 1
1416 Words
Chapter One – The Wind Knows Things
The wind today is heavy,like it’s carrying secrets too big for its own mouth. They weren’t meant for me, but I listened anyway, enchanted by every whisper.
"Elias, Mrs. Parker expects you in thirty minutes."
Only my mother calls me by my full name.
Elias Romano Noah.
Why on earth my parents gave me a boy’s name is a question even they can't answer. It’s like they rolled a die and landed on “mild identity crisis.”
"I don't like going to Mrs. Parker’s," I say, snapping the window shut. The wind’s getting pushy now. "She always smiles at me funny."
“She’s not a p*****t, Elias,” my older brother Samuel says, strolling into the room like he owns it.
“Easy for you to say. No old woman has ever smiled at you like she’s picturing you shirtless in her youth.”
He rolls his eyes and flops onto the couch. I don’t know why he’s even part of this conversation.
“She has dementia,” Mum adds from the kitchen.
“That’s not an excuse, Mum.”
“She probably thinks you’re her daughter,” Diane chimes in as she glides into the room like she’s in a family drama on stage.
Diane. My sister with the perfect hair, perfect voice, and,surprise!,a perfectly normal girl name. She’s married niow, but still finds time to pop in and make me feel like a background character in her show.
“Shouldn’t you be at your husband's house being perfect or something?” I ask her with a tight smile.
She ignores me and plants a kiss on Mum’s forehead. Favorite child energy radiating off her like heat in summer.
“Come sit, watch some TV,” Mum offers, clearly trying to shift the conversation.
“Can’t. I have to meet Kenzie. Her parents volunteered her for the Queen Contest and she’s freaking out.”
“Oh, right,” Diane perks up. “The selection list is announced today.”
“Exactly. So, I’m off to give her a pep talk and pray to all the gods she doesn’t get picked.”
“I hope she doesn’t either,” Samuel says, far too quickly.
Samuel has had a secret, painfully obvious crush on Kenzie since we were twelve. He’s never admitted it, but I’ve seen the way he looks at her like she’s the last chocolate croissant in the bakery.
“She better not,” I add. “Falling in love with our deranged king and dying doesn’t sound like a fairytale to me.”
Mum tuts. “That is no way to speak about your king, Elias Romano Noah.”
I pretend not to hear her. She likes to think she raised me better, but really, I just got better at not saying things out loud.
“Anyway, I’ll be back by evening,” I say, heading for the door. “I’ll probably watch the announcement at Mrs. Parker’s.”
“Should we leave you dinner?” Mum asks.
I give her a look that screams, Do you even know me?
I grab my bicycle from the garage. Cycling is my therapy. Rain, sun, apocalypse,if the wheels turn, I’m going.
When you’re the youngest of five, everything feels like a chore assigned by someone else. But cycling? That’s mine.
Kenzie’s house is just ten minutes away. Her front door is wide open, as always. Their home is like a rotating circus of chaos,three older siblings, six younger ones, and never a dull moment.
“Kenzie!” I yell, stepping inside. The silence is weird. Eerie, even.
“Come to my room!” she calls back.
I take a deep breath. Emotional support mode: activated.
Her room is a disaster zone. Clothes, books, hairpins, and random glitter bombs coat the floor. She’s on her bed, zipping up a suitcase with a grin that doesn’t make sense.
“Hey Kenz,” I say, cautiously.
“Eli!” She beams. “How’re you?”
“Good…? You?”
“Perfect. I’m hoping I get picked.”
Silence. Cue the sound of my brain short-circuiting.
“Picked? For the Selection? You were crying about it yesterday.”
“I thought about it,” she says, grabbing my hand. “If I win, my whole family gets elevated. We’d be royalty, Eli. Real royalty!”
I blink. “Yeah, and then you’d fall in love with a psycho and die. Tiny detail.”
She laughs, but it falters. “If he falls in love with me too, I don’t die. That’s how the curse works.”
“You’re forgetting the part where his heart was literally born unfeeling. Not just emotionally unavailable—cursed to be incapable of love.”
“You’re so pessimistic.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“I’m realistic,” I correct. “I love you too much to watch you become another doomed love story.”
She softens. “It’ll be okay. I won’t die.”
I force a smile, but inside I’m already hoping she doesn’t get picked. Which makes me a terrible best friend. Or just a scared one.
“I should go. Mrs. Parker awaits.” I inform Kenzie.
Cycling to her house takes longer, but it clears my head.
I park my bicycle at the corner of Mrs Parkers house and wear my helmet as I go in.
One time she forgot I was coning and threw an orange at my head.
"Mrs P!" I yell immediately i go in, informing her of my arrival. "Elis here!"
"In the kitchen dear!" She replies.
I take off the helmet, feeling relieved and go to the kitchen.
Her house Is a bit dusty, but definitely not dirty.
She's standing in her kitchen, a cup of what I pray is water and not vodka in her hands.
"Hey Elsie, I didn't expect you today" she says already giving me the weird smile.
"My mum said she called earlier, is that water Mrs P?" I ask.
She nods. "A little hydration goes a long way"
I smile. "Let's get you in front of the TV while I start in the kitchen"
She puts the glass of water on the counter and takes the hand I offered, I slowly walk her to her living room and put her comfortably in the chair.
I turn the TV to the national news station, as much as I hate this process of choosing a queen, I'd be dammed if I miss the candidates being announced.
I check the clock above the TV and see there's still about an hour left until they announce.
I go into the kitchen to start working.
I finish the kitchen in no time and head to the living room. Mrs. P’s watching TV like it’s the Olympics. I’m still picking up clutter when the royal trumpet blares again.
Here we go.
Tom Hillybury, our painfully smug host, appears on screen. “Good evening, citizens. I’m sure you all know my name—”
“I know your ego,” I mutter.
“Welcome to the 27th Selection Ceremony!”
Translation: The 25th and 26th girls died. Thanks, Your Majesty.
He does his introductory bit before he starts listing the chosen girls.
“From Faction One, Gravemoor: Rebecca Carlisle.”
A beautiful brunette appears on screen, all silk skin and privilege.
“From Faction Two, Luneshire: Elowen Thart.”
Bald. Bold. Stunning. Her green eyes could slice glass.
“This one has no hair,” Mrs. Parker says flatly.
“From Faction Three, Dreamswick: Maeve Sterling.”
Strawberry blonde, angelic. Sweet, soft, and probably scared out of her mind.
“From Faction Four, Norwyne: Zara Nightingale.”
“From Faction Five, Caldera: Amara Duvall.”
My heart pounds.
“From Faction Six, Austara…” Please no. “Mackenzie Williams.”
Kenzie.
I blink, barely hearing the rest.
“From Faction Seven, Viremont: Anya Ravenshade.”
“Faction Eight, Solarae: Thalia Everen.”
“Nine, Bellywn: Melody Wynn.”
“Ten, Red Hollow: Rowena Clairmont.”
Done. Ten factions. Ten girls.
I exhale and turn away.
“And lastly…”
Wait, what?
“From Faction Six, Austara… Elias Noah.”
The world tilts. My body freezes. Mrs. Parker sips her water, unfazed.
“This one’s not very pretty,” she says.
I barely hear her.
What the actual—
No. No. No.
This has to be a mistake. A joke. A glitch in the cursed royal matrix.
- Writer
