Hov told me to rest for four days. By now, no one had come in to ask what had happened, which only meant one thing: everyone already knew. At least, they must have been informed of Daisuke's and Elodie's version of the story. I didn't bother imagining what they might have said; it wasn't worth the energy. If I thought about it too much, I'd get angry—and anger was exactly what they wanted. They absolutely did not deserve the satisfaction of knowing they still had any kind of effect on me. The longer I kept my mind off them, the better for me.
Emily was the only one who came by during those four days. She brought me my smoothies as usual, and though I drank every last one of them, it wasn't exactly a relaxing interaction. She didn't even try to hide the way she glared at me, her eyes a mixture of anger and sadness. Her expression felt heavy, and while it bothered me, I couldn't entirely blame her for how she felt. Emily had been close to Avy. It was obvious she was still suffering from the loss. How could she not? Avyanna's absence had left a hole in everyone who truly knew her. Her laughter, her voice, her presence—it was impossible not to feel the weight of that void.
Still, I couldn't imagine Emily ever harming me, no matter how conflicted she seemed. Deep down, she knew better, even if she didn't understand my choices. Avy wouldn't want her to. If anything, Avyanna would have hated it, and Emily understood that as much as I did. That thought gave me a strange sort of comfort—a small reassurance in the middle of everything else.
For the day, I chose a light pink ball dress that fell just above my knees. The fabric was soft and elegant, flowing delicately with every step I took. It was the kind of dress that made me feel both powerful and graceful. I paired it with copper high heels that added just enough height to make me feel unstoppable, and I selected matching copper jewelry to complete the look. The metallic tones complemented my golden hair perfectly. Before slipping into the dress, though, I had to reapply the bandages around my injuries. It had become a routine by now—one I handled with as much care as efficiency. Pain was just part of the process, and I had learned to deal with it.
Yesterday, while painting my nails, I had taken extra care to trim them short. I anticipated they might ask me to play an instrument, and long nails would only get in the way. It was a small detail, but I never left anything to chance.
When it came to music, I wasn't just talented—I was extraordinary. Singing flawlessly was one thing, but my expertise went far beyond that. I could play five instruments with precision: piano, flute, cello, guitar, and violin. Each one was a skill I had mastered through dedication and practice. If they asked me to play something unfamiliar, it might be a problem, but I doubted that would happen. They would want to test my existing abilities, not throw something completely new at me.
Creating music wasn't a challenge for me either. In fact, it used to be one of my greatest joys. Avyanna and I had written countless songs together. I'd compose the melodies while she poured her soul into the lyrics. It was one of the many ways we connected, creating something beautiful and meaningful as a team. Now, those memories were bittersweet. They filled me with both longing and determination—a reminder of what I'd lost and what I still needed to fight for.
But music was only one of my many skills. I was equally adept at drawing, whether it was portraits of people, intricate landscapes, detailed maps, or lifelike sketches of animals. Even food—something as mundane as a loaf of bread—became art under my pencil. I'd spent countless hours locked away, teaching myself everything I could. My photographic memory ensured that I never forgot a single thing I learned. It allowed me to absorb knowledge quickly and efficiently, mastering one skill before moving on to the next.
The drive to learn consumed me. Geography, history, mathematics, philosophy, languages (both ancient and modern), literature, sciences—if it could be learned, I studied it. I didn't need tutors or guidance. All I needed were books and time. Even in isolation, blindfolded and shut away from the rest of the world, I found ways to sharpen my mind. The rules were strict—I wasn't allowed near mirrors, not even accidentally—but I made do with what I had.
Cooking and baking were other talents I'd perfected, though those had been more for Avy than for myself. She had the sweetest tooth imaginable, and the palace rarely indulged her cravings. So, I'd take it upon myself to make her whatever she wanted. Cakes, cookies, pies—whatever would bring that radiant smile to her face, I would create it for her. Seeing her happy made every effort worthwhile.
Avyanna had her struggles, though. Learning didn't come easily to her, and the Royal tutors' rigid methods frustrated her more than they helped. That was where I stepped in. I found ways to break down complicated concepts and explain them in ways she could grasp. Since writing in front of her wasn't an option—thanks to the blindfold—I relied on my voice and creativity to teach her. She used to tell me I had a gift for teaching, that I made everything easier. Hearing that from her was all the motivation I needed to keep trying. I wanted her to succeed just as much as I wanted it for myself.
The truth was, I was a prodigy. A genius, even. There was very little I couldn't accomplish if I set my mind to it. Dancing, for example, was another area where I excelled. I had mastered various styles over the years, some on my own and others through practice with Avyanna when the dances required a partner.
She used to call me her "royal ace," a nickname that stuck. She was the only one who truly understood just how capable I was. Maybe Rai suspected it, but he was always too focused on watching me to say much. If he did know the full extent of my abilities, he kept it to himself. Not that it mattered. Soon, everyone would see for themselves. I couldn't wait to witness their reactions when they realized just how talented I was.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I allowed myself a small giggle. I was beautiful—no, stunning. The dress, the heels, the jewelry, my hair—it all came together perfectly. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to win this competition. The only way I wouldn't was if they cheated, and even then, it wouldn't matter. Deep down, everyone would know the truth: I was the best.
I examined my reflection closely, taking in every detail. My toned legs, the result of years of rigorous training, added to my confidence. I was more attractive than most of the others here, and I knew it. Let them throw whatever challenges they wanted my way—I was ready for all of it.
Taking a deep breath, I ignored the persistent ache in my body and checked my makeup one last time. Everything was flawless, down to the soft waves of my hair. I was an artist in every sense of the word, and this was my canvas. Avyanna would have been proud of me. With that thought, I turned toward the door.
My high heels clicked against the floor as I walked, each step deliberate and confident. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of the dogs. Their presence was as irritating as ever, but not even their annoying faces could ruin my mood today. Let them watch. I was ready for whatever came next.