The choosing began, and the candidates filed past us, each wearing their friendliest expressions, hoping one of us would take a liking to them. It felt oddly like a job interview, with all the eager faces and stiff smiles.
Some tried to stand out by pulling funny faces or winking as they passed. Everyone wore the same uniform—probably to prevent anyone from using flashy clothes to impress us. Without it, I bet this would've turned into a full-blown costume show. Imagine a jester juggling, a knight clanking around in armor, or someone dressed as a giant teddy bear. That would've been something.
As I entertained these silly thoughts, most people passed by without catching my interest. Elanor had said I could choose anyone I wanted, but how was I supposed to do that? It wasn't like picking toys off a shelf. People kept bowing and murmuring praises, but honestly, I could hardly tell one face from another. It was all so… tiresome.
Occasionally, a stir would rise when my sisters made their choices. They were getting quite good at it—raising their chubby hands to signal their selection, as if already used to the attention. A flicker of pride touched me seeing them pick without hesitation, while I, of course, remained clueless. Typical.
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the more candidates that passed, the more nervous I became. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I ended up with a complete weirdo in my entourage because I just picked randomly?
I let out a mental sigh for what felt like the thousandth time. Honestly, I'd rather sleep on this decision… Oh, right. I'm a baby. I could totally get away with that—just doze off and let everyone else figure it out. Foolproof plan, really.
But just as I was about to commit to that genius idea, the lineup changed. The humans gave way to elves with pointy ears and silver hair. Then came the dwarves, sturdy and bearded, each giving a deep bow. I squinted, realizing there was some kind of order to this procession. First the humans, then the other races. Seemed unfair, but who was I to change these customs? I'd already seen enough arbitrary rules to last a lifetime.
The different beings captured my attention here and there. Whenever I showed even the slightest curiosity, the person in front of me got plucked from the queue. I bet there would be a heated debate over which person I stared at the most if I didn't make an obvious choice.
Then I saw it—a tail.
A big, fluffy tail swaying back and forth, making its way toward me. My eyes widened as it drew closer. It was so fluffy. I had to touch it. No, it was calling out to me, practically begging to be held. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed it with both hands, sinking my fingers into its softness.
The owner of the tail turned to look at me, his ears perking up in surprise. It was a werewolf. "Uh, princess," he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder, "do you… like my tail?" His tone was confused, probably not expecting to get picked.
I blinked up at him, still clutching the fluff. A little embarrassed, I thought about letting go—but there was no way I'd leave this fluff just because of some silly embarrassment. I gave the tail a little squeeze for emphasis.
He let out a bark of laughter, his sharp teeth glinting as he grinned. "I'm glad you approve, Your Highness." He wagged his tail slightly, making me giggle despite myself.
The Cardinal's voice boomed from the other side of the room. "Princess Cordelia has made her choice," he declared, snapping me out of my fluff-induced daze.
"Wait, I did?" I mumbled under my breath. Did grabbing a tail count as choosing someone? I hadn't thought this through at all. I glanced at my sisters, who watched with various expressions of amusement and exasperation.
Elanor smirked. "So, you've gone for the werewolf, have you? Bold choice, sister."
"Well, his tail looked really soft…" I trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed now that everyone was staring at me like I'd just done something incredibly cute. It wasn't cute! It was just… practical.
I needed an entourage, and he had a nice tail. What else was I supposed to do?
"Looks like we've got a tail enthusiast on our hands," Alice teased, leaning over the edge of her cradle for a better look at the werewolf. "Are you going to pick everyone based on how fluffy they are, or is that just a special rule for the first one? You know your entourage will grow as you get older, right?"
"I didn't pick him because he was fluffy!" I protested, though my cheeks felt warm. "He just happened to be fluffy… And what do you mean, more entourage? Gosh, this was tiring enough."
"Of course, of course," Dorothy said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We believe you."
I huffed and turned my attention back to the werewolf, who still stood there with a bemused look. I knew he couldn't understand our conversation, but who knew? Maybe he had some animal-like instinct and got the gist. It was practically telepathy at this point, since all my words were probably just baby mumbles to his ears, yet he still seemed to understand.
As if snapping out of his surprise, he introduced himself. "Garvin, Your Highness," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "Garvin, leader of the Emberpaw Clan."
"Garvin," I repeated, reluctantly letting go of his tail. "Well, you're in. Just… don't let anyone else touch your tail. It's mine now."
He grinned again, now I was completely sure he understood me, a playful spark in his golden eyes. "As you wish, Princess. I shall guard it well."
The line dissolved, though I noticed some of the remaining candidates giving Garvin curious glances, probably wondering if having a fluffy tail was the new requirement.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe this whole choosing thing wouldn't be so bad after all. I could make my own rules, one fluffy tail at a time.
Mother Lavender told me to follow my heart when it came to these matters. I wasn't sure how much heart was involved in picking someone based on tail fluff, but it had felt right, at least.
Still, there were more important matters that we hadn't addressed. The consorts. I glanced toward my sisters, who were now busy with their new attendants. We were meant to be raised together, separated from our mothers to avoid their endless quarrels and schemes.
Yet, I'd noticed something unsettling—our mothers' behavior wasn't quite as it was known to be. It was almost as if they were working together, or at the very least, not trying to undermine each other. Rather, they seemed to have good relations.