Technically speaking I finished my lessons two years ago. I completed my ten-year education by age sixteen. But that doesn't include the things I have to learn and train to be prepared for the court.
My lunch started almost over an hour ago. But instead of taking it in my work chamber like I usually do, instead, I just had it delivered to my lessons room.
I slowly chew on my Ruben sandwich as I watch a documentary of a woman named Queen Elizabeth II become Queen on a country that used to be called England.
I finish my food as two o'clock grows nearer. I'm not sure when Kennedy rejoined me, but I see them standing by the doorway, waiting, silently.
I put my face in my hands dreading the meeting to come.
"Where am I meeting the Elders?" I question through my fingers.
"The conference room, princess."
I jump in spite of myself. The conference room is only ever used for when Legiubus hosts the Conference of Kingdoms. But then again that location makes sense. I am the only child of the Court who has access to the conference room. My siblings won't be able to eavesdrop. Although, I highly doubt they care.
I reluctantly stand. "If I must."
So we walk to the southern wing. Thankfully there is a tele-lift from the main floor to the conference room. Which is at the very top of the highest tower. At the entrance to this tower is a solid, thick, marble door. I place my hand flat just above the golden knob. Suddenly the area around my hands glows white before blinking green and the doors swing open.
We then enter a small room. Which is just solid marble throughout. The doors swing shut behind us leaving me to stand in soft yellow light. After a few seconds the doors swing open again, but this time I walk into the conference room and not a corridor.
I have teleported up eight stories for the dull view of the Elders. Also known as, Mother, Father, Grandmother, and Grandfather.
The conference room is large and lined with windows. Pouring beautiful sunlight into every inch of the circular room.
The table we are seated at is much smaller than the one we use for the Conference of Kingdoms. Leaving just one seat available when I arrive. One seat for me.
I nod to each of them as I take my seat. "Good afternoon."
They say it back. Like every respectable member of the Court should. But, now, it's down to business.
"Emmalyne, my dear," my father begins. "Do you have any idea what this meeting is in reference to?"
"I have a few guesses. But why don't we just save some time and you just tell me outright." The venom in my voice surprises me. I was unaware of all the spite inside of me until now. When it's all compressed in my chest.
I see my grandmother press down a smile.
"Emmalyne, it's high time you picked a husband." My grandfather states bluntly.
I knew it.
"Why?" I demand. "I've got plenty of time for that. Why now?"
"Like you and your father discussed this morning." My mother jumps in. "The conference in Adiefex is in three weeks. We would like to have something to tell them rather than nothing."
The pressure in my chest increases. The fury inside desperate to explode out.
"Why me then? Robert turns twenty one the seven months. He hasn't a wife yet!"
"Robert," my grandfather cuts in before I can raise my voice further, "has submitted a noble-woman. She is fifty days into her trial."
I feel my lip twitch.
"Emmalyne," My father speaks. "We are here to talk about you. Sloan is sixteen and she has already submitted eight potential suitors names for when she turns eighteen. Even Marcus is beginning to show interest in women."
"That's ridiculous," I spit. "Marcus isn't old enough to begin courting."
"He turns fourteen in just a month dear." My mother reminds me.
"But they aren't here!" My grandfather yells. "They are also not the reason we are here! We are here to discuss Emmalyne."
But I'm still mad. It seems to be my parent's hobby to compare my siblings and myself to one another. I've never taken kindly to it.
"Now," I start, bitterly, "correct me if I'm wrong. But last I checked, Bobby's wife will not become queen. Sloan's husband will not rule an entire kingdom beside her. Marcus' wife will not make decisions with the Court that will affect every single living person on our planet! So excuse me for being a little reluctant to select a spouse."
My mother looks nonplussed by my reaction. My father's face holds a sour expression. My grandmother is practically glowing with pride and my grandfather just looks tired.
"Are you done?" he demands with a hint of annoyance.
I just fold my arms and slouch back into my chair. I'm extremely close to putting my feet on the table. But that will be taking it too far.
My mother bites at my silence quickly. "We want to have a ball."
My anger is quickly replaced by shock. I do my best not to stutter. "A ball?"
"Yes, a ball." My father responds. "We are inviting sixty young men that have deemed fit for you to marry."
"It's not a bunch of snobs with poles up their backsides, I hope." I spit back quickly, unable to restrain myself.
You think after ten years they would have gotten used to my rude mannerisms. But apparently not. My mother looks so appalled she has lost the ability to speak.
My grandfather takes advantage of the silence. He speaks seemly unfazed by my atrocious manners. "Naturally we knew that you would have liked to have creative freedom and plan the event. Emmalyne, you are also being given the option to invite other men if you wish them to be there."
"That is where we disagree," My grandmother winks at me. "It should not be an option. Emmalyne should be required to invite at least two men. The poor girl shouldn't have to marry someone the Court chose. She should be able to marry a man she at least feels a connection with. No matter how small."
"What if the men I choose have already been invited," I ask, in search of a loophole.
"Then they get two invitations."
I sit for a moment. Letting them wait before I inevitably except something I never really had a choice in. "Fine."
"Wonderful," My father smiles. "What did you have in mind?"
"We're planning it now?" I ask beside myself. "Can't I just do the work on my own and have some servants take you each a copy?"
My father shakes his head. "We're planning it now."
I sigh loudly. They all stare at me. I've always had a knack for planning things. Especially when it comes to clothing and themes.
"Black and white," I begin. "The entire ballroom is to be decorated black and white, along with everyone's attire. Grey is also suitable. I alone will wear a golden dress. If the ball is for me then I shall be the center of attention. "
The Elders all nod their approval.
"My siblings are not allowed to attend. They know too much of me and the Court. They mustn't be given the opportunity to spread rumors amount the Nobel-men. There will be no fancy dinner, it will be a catered event with servants walking around with trays of food and drink.
"Having cameras will be best. Do not make the event required viewing, then people will feel as if their hand is forced. But they will watch anyway. Anything for a glimpse at the future king. " I tally each thing off on my fingers.
"O'Brian," My father snaps. "Have you gotten all that written down?"
"Yes my king," One of the three servants behind my father answers.
"Send those notes to Kennedy," I order. "I will go over what we have come up with today and finalize the plans by the end of the week. I report should reach you all by Friday evening."
"Very well, Emmalyne," My mother yawns. "You may go."
As I sweep from the room I cannot help but mutter under my breath, "As if I need your permission to do anything."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After almost two hours of revising and creating the plans for the ball, I finally have a baseline. I will need to have a meeting with the chef's and order all the decorations. Then of course I will need to make all the invitations and have them sent out. But if I have one more second of work I will scream.
So is abandon all my papers and plans to go relax. My study is attached to my bedroom, but the two rooms differ from each other highly. Where my study is cluttered my room is barren.
Washing off the day in the shower I let myself breathe for the first time in hours. I apply masks and scrubs to the patches of skin that are vying to cause me trouble. Princesses don't have bad skin.
I change into a large marron sweater that goes past my fingertips and mid-way down my thighs. It's hot so I put on black shorts that are almost invisable under my top. I then pull on my favorite baby blue socks that are fuzzy and slide across my slick floors. My hair hangs untouched down to my ribs, drying in the air.
With fifteen minutes until my dinner is to arrive I settle myself down onto of my plush comforter with a knotted quilt wrapped around me as I view movies on my television.
"Lady Kelly is requesting that you dine with her this evening, Princess," Kennedy drones from beside my television.
"No," I respond almost immediately. "I've had enough of the Elders today."
"Your food had already been delivered to the Gratitude Manor. Lady Kelly states that if you will not join her she will come to you."
"Oh for the love of the Court," I mutter angrily. "Get one of my pre-programmed outfits."
Then jamming the buttons on my remote control the television retracts itself back into the ceiling.
I stomp into the bathroom where I reluctantly repaint my face and plait my still damp hair down my back in a thick braid.
I snap my grandmother's bracelet on my wrist to please her. Then taking the outfit from Kennedy I dress while letting out a string of swear words.
The shirt is snow white with a sweeping neckline. Then a pleated skirt with a blue and red plaid pattern. I feel like a school-girl as I pull the grey socks on that reach over my knees.
My white ballet flats slap loudly against the concrete as I cross the place grounds to the row of mansions that reside outside the gates. The grandest mansion is the Gratitude Mansion, stands with its windows glowing in the early twilight.
I take a long breath of the warm air before stepping inside. The passage to their dining room is lit with oil lamps and all the furniture has been dusted. All for me? Goody.
I almost gasp in relief when I see only my grandmother sitting at the table. I'm not sure how much more of my grandfather I could've handled today.
"Sit," She smiles.
I take my seat across the small table from her and see the pesto noodles I ordered.
"You did wonderfully today," she grins.
"Excuse me?" I ask sticking a mushroom with my fork.
"I think it's wrong of the others to push you to have that ball. You're to be the queen, you know the responsibilities that come with that." She speaks in a soft warm voice.
"Thank you," I say meekly.
"You speak like you already rule."
"No, I don't," I scoff. "I'm still a petty teenager that can't get over herself, Nana."
"Emmy, you know that's not true," she shakes her head.
"There is a reason I don't get coordinated until I'm twenty," I cut her off.
She is silent for a moment.
"I sorry, I didn't mean to speak so harshly," I say my voice much quieter. I do feel bad for shouting.
"Don't be sorry, child. You spoke your mind. Like a queen ought to. You may not be able to see it my dear, but I can. You're ready to rule."