We were led into a grand hall, its lavishness on full display. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceiling, casting shimmering light across the marble floors. The walls were adorned with intricate designs, the embroidered threads gleaming like constellations.
But at this point, I'd had enough. I'd seen more grandeur than I ever wanted to in a lifetime. Call me jaded, but after hours of being bombarded with luxury, it had lost its charm. A wall was just a wall, no matter how many carvings or murals decorated it.
Yet, my gaze still drifted to the sparkles. I couldn't help it. Ugh. Humans are such hypocrites.
I scoffed inwardly as my eyes landed on the jeweled crown atop one of the thrones. How many gemstones does one head really need? What a waste.
In the center of the hall, six thrones formed a semi-circle, each more extravagant than the last. They were meant for the royals, while we were placed in large cradles nearby, as if we were infants being paraded before the court.
A prickle of irritation crept across my cheeks as the candidates murmured among themselves, their voices a blend of interest and judgment.
"Who do you want to choose?" Elanor asked us, her voice steady and calm, though her eyes remained fixed on the gathering as if assessing each person. Her tone left no room for hesitation, yet I could hear the challenge beneath it.
Don't look at me. I'm clueless. The question wasn't really for me anyway. What did it even mean to choose? What was the point of this whole charade?
I glanced at the crowd—an ocean of unfamiliar faces. It was almost amusing, how they put on a show to impress a bunch of toddlers. Almost.
"I will choose Miss Riley," Alice spoke up, her voice clear as a bell. "She's a sorcerer and will become Duchess Crowell in the future." Elanor nodded approvingly, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. I wondered why.
"I'm already done," Dorothy declared, a hint of pride in her voice. She was always like that—quick to make decisions and even quicker to flaunt them.
"Don't get too full of yourself," Alice grumbled, crossing her arms. "Just wait. When the Duchy of Crowell finds those mines, I'll show you what it means to be truly rich."
"Money can't buy everything, Alice," Dorothy retorted, rolling her eyes. "But sure, keep dreaming."
Their bickering faded into the background. What did it matter, anyway? None of this felt real. These choices… it was as if we were playing a game without knowing the rules, and I wasn't interested in learning them. I shifted uncomfortably in the cradle, glancing toward the golden thrones as frustration welled up inside me.
Why did we have to be here, paraded like trophies? I knew it was part of my royal duties, but that didn't mean I had to like it.
If this were a novel, I'm sure the readers would be complaining about the protagonist whining too much. They'd probably prefer a story where a secret spy becomes a princess. Sorry for the disappointment. Actually, no—I'm not sorry at all. Think what you will.
"I shall choose Priestess Selene," Iris said, breaking my spiraling thoughts. She glanced at me, a small smile on her lips. "Remember her? She visited us before. She's a candidate to become the Saintess."
"I don't remember much," I replied honestly. There had been a priestess that night, but I'd only heard about it from my sisters. I was too tired, or too uninterested, to pay attention.
"That's because you were asleep," Iris teased lightly, though her tone held a note of concern. "You should try to pay more attention. These things are important."
I blinked at her, unsure what to say. Was it really that important? Or were we just being made to believe it was?
"Sis Elanor, who would you pick?" I asked, hoping to deflect the attention away from myself. I wasn't ready to face the weight of a decision I didn't even understand.
"One-Eyed General Garold," she answered with a faint smile, her gaze distant as if picturing him. "Though he still has both his eyes right now."
"Oh, wow. You all seem to have everything planned out," I muttered, glancing around. "Who should I pick, then? And how is this choosing even done?" My frustration bled into my voice, and I noticed a flicker of pity in Iris's eyes. I hated it.
"Choose whoever you want," Elanor replied casually, waving a hand. "Almost everyone here will become notable figures later on. As for the process—"
Her explanation was cut short by the booming voice of the Cardinal, who stepped forward. His voice was stern, slicing through the room like a blade.
"We are gathered here to choose the entourage of our beloved stars," he proclaimed, raising his hands as if in blessing. "Lights shine brighter when cared for meticulously. I hope everyone comes with a pious heart, aspiring to be the support for our stars."
Stars? What a grand way to describe us. It was sweet when Mother Lavender called me that, but coming from this smiling old man, it grated on me.
What good was being a star if we were stuck in cradles, treated like dolls to be admired?
"Princess Dorothy's entourage has been chosen," the Cardinal continued, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "It is Mage Melbus."
A murmur rippled through the hall, discontent rising in hushed waves. Glances were exchanged, some displeased, others merely curious. Whispers grew louder until—
Silence. The king raised his hand, his expression as hard as stone. "Princess Dorothy has made her choice," he declared, his voice final. "No further intervention is required."
The murmurs died, replaced by tense stillness. For a moment, I felt a flicker of respect for Dorothy. My sisters are cool. I am not. Don't expect me to 'girl boss' anything. I'll try my best, but if I can't, I'll just wallow in self-pity.
What? You expected me to say something like, If I can't, I have my sisters? Nonsense. I want them as family, not as an insurance policy.
"Now, everyone shall pass along these cribs," the Cardinal instructed, gesturing toward the row of cradles lined up nearby. "If the princesses show interest in you, you are chosen."
I frowned, frustration tightening in my chest. "Why is this so arbitrary?" I whispered to Iris. "What if we like multiple people?"
"They'll decide who we liked most," Iris shrugged. "It's always been like this."
"That doesn't make it any less ridiculous," I muttered, glaring at the procession. The cribs were so delicately beautiful, almost to the point of being infuriating. Everything here seemed designed to be elaborate for the sake of it, with no thought to practicality. Four cribs were lined up, and people would pass by, bowing and murmuring praises as if we were to be worshipped.
The whole thing felt chaotic and artificial. I hated it. I hated how contrived it all seemed. This was all so hectic.
Mother Lavender, which heart am I supposed to follow?