When the next morning comes, I have a new nickname — a magic monster, not Poisoned Flower anymore — for being able to overwhelm Calais — the young prodigy General who has nothing but achievements in the field.
I scan the tiny room. The Queen Selection participants have dwindled. We are now only a group of ten women, most of whom can barely defend themselves against an assassin.
Eliana stands out, though. She's agile with her magic. She uses small amounts of it to defend in creative ways that I can never match. My magic usage is nothing but brute force. No elegance at all. I feel like I am squandering Lyrica's talent.
"Are you done, Lady Lyrica?" Prince Pieter asks.
"I am," I say, handing over my paper. We are tested on current events, but most of the questions are highly opinionated. They must be checking our eloquence and our political leanings.
"This is good," he whispers after giving my paper a quick browse.