Alexandra covered her leg with her gown and looked up at Silverstein, only to find him staring intensely at her. A rush of warmth flooded her cheeks, and she cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.
"Ehm, Your Highness. Can I ask you a question?"
"Didn't you already? Go on," he replied, nodding with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"What are you doing here? I mean, you can freely move around, but—"
"Can you cook?" he interrupted, shifting the conversation unexpectedly.
Alexandra blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sudden question. "I can cook, Your Highness," she replied, unsure of where this was heading.
Silverstein nodded, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned and left the tent, his right-hand man following closely behind him.
When the twins entered, they caught sight of Alexandra still seated on the bed, her expression a mixture of confusion and excitement.
"D-did the prince just…" Cleo trailed off, wide-eyed.
Alexandra nodded, her heart racing. "The Crown Prince came inside here?! Why?!" Cleo's voice was a blend of disbelief and glee, her hands flying to her cheeks.
"To… talk," Alexandra replied slowly, unsure why Cleo was reacting so dramatically.
"*To talk?* And you don't see anything there?!" Cleo gasped, glancing at Cloe, who looked equally bewildered. "Woah! Do I have to be the one always teaching you guys everything?! He came to talk to you! Not any other lady but you! And you don't see anything strange about that?!"
At this point, Cleo dropped the steak she had brought, placing her hands akimbo on her waist in exasperation.
Cloe finally seemed to grasp the situation while Alexandra remained perplexed. "We talked last night too, in the glass room. There's really nothing special about just talking, you know? He might be speaking with me while he's already set his mind on someone else. So let's not take things too far, okay?" She made her point, though what Alexandra didn't know was that Silverstein had indeed felt a connection with her since their conversation the previous night.
...
The atmosphere shifted as it was time for round two. The host announced the rules, explaining that each contestant was to prepare an appetizer and dessert of their choice within a span of forty-five minutes.
"And the time begins!" the host declared, and the contestants rushed to their stations.
They were provided with everything they would need: cooking gas, pots, fresh ingredients, and an assortment of spices. The air soon filled with the tantalizing aroma of herbs and spices as they worked, each focused on their culinary masterpieces.
Thirty minutes passed quickly, and Kiara was the first to finish her dish. Alexandra followed shortly after, her heart racing as she plated her food. The other two ladies completed their dishes just moments later.
"So it will go like this," the host explained, gesturing to the audience. "The meals created by these fair ladies will be served to the King, Queen, Crown Prince, and the Dukes and Duchesses for tasting. After that, there will be a break for the royals to deliberate, and then the choosing of the bride will commence."
As the expert servants served the royals and the Dukes and Duchesses, Alexandra's gaze fixated on Silverstein, attempting to gauge his reaction as he tasted her dish. But his expression remained inscrutable. She turned her attention outside the canopy, where the sky had turned a deep shade of blue, signaling the onset of night.
Across the way, her mother beamed with pride at the taste of her food, while her father gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. A wave of relief washed over Alexandra, grateful that her parents enjoyed her dish.
Once the royals and nobles finished tasting, the host announced a break, allowing the contestants to retreat to their tents. Alexandra joined Cleo and Cloe as they hurried back to her tent.
"I didn't taste your food, but I'm sure it's spectacular!" Cleo declared, her enthusiasm infectious.
Alexandra chuckled, grateful for her friend's unwavering support. "Thank you, Cleo," she replied, her heart racing. Anxiety gripped her as she thought about the Crown Prince's choice for a bride. For a moment, she drifted into her own world of possibilities.
What would it be like if the prince chose her? What would become of them? Would she fall in love with him, or would she forever feel like a mere selected bride?
"Alex?" Cloe's voice broke through her thoughts, worry etched on her face. "Are you okay?"
"Y…yes?" Alexandra responded, blinking back to reality.
"Is something wrong?" Cleo pressed, her expression filled with concern. "You look like you've been daydreaming."
"Hmm? No, no. I'm alright. My mind just wandered off a little bit. I was thinking about what it'd be like if the prince chose me." She shrugged, trying to brush off her anxiety. "I think it's time to go back," she said, glancing toward the entrance of the tent, where she thought she heard footsteps approaching.
"Oh, that's right," Cloe said just as two guardsmen entered the tent, bowing respectfully to the duke's daughter and the marquees twins.
"It is time, My Lady," one of the guardsmen announced, and the three ladies stood up.
"You have such good hearing! I wonder how you heard it from so far away," Cleo joked as she and Cloe stepped out of the tent, while Alexandra remained momentarily rooted to the spot, still processing the guard's words.
What?
The marquees twins entered the canopy first, followed by Alexandra, her heart pounding as she joined them on the platform. The air was thick with anticipation as they awaited the host's next words.
"Okay. This is the end of the carnival," the host declared, his voice ringing out with cheer. "After this, you may do as you wish, so I won't keep you long." He chuckled, pausing for effect. "The prince will come and pick the bride himself," he continued, gauging the audience's reaction. When he saw their puzzled faces, a smug smirk spread across his lips. "I mean, the prince will hold the future princess by her hand, kiss her lips, and declare that she will be the future princess."
Laughter erupted from the crowd, including the royals, who seemed unfazed by the host's cheeky words.
The king and queen exchanged glances, but it was clear that Silverstein was untroubled by the jest. Why would he be?
"My prince," the host called, descending from the platform and bowing low before the crown prince. With a flourish, he gestured toward the stage.
Alexandra's heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Her mind battled between hope and doubt. The optimistic part of her believed he would choose her, while the pessimistic side questioned her worthiness against the high standards of royalty. It was as if her heart and mind were at odds, both fighting for dominance in the confined space of her thoughts.