“Is this what you will be wearing to breakfast?” he asked, a little thinly.

  I looked down at my dress, then back up at him. “I want to say yes, but that feels like the wrong answer?”

  “Indeed. But it is too late for you to change now.” He had a high-pitched voice, and a way of drawing out his words that made me a little uncomfortable. The thin man tugged on his waistcoat. “My name is Tellren. I am the master of this palace, and that means, so long as you are a guest of the Prince, I will ensure your needs are taken care of.”

  “That’s… nice of you?”

  “Nice? It is my sworn duty. However, know this. So long as you reside within the palace walls, I will not tolerate any rule-breaking whatsoever. You are to comport yourself with dignity and grace, as befitting a guest of the royal family. Needless to say, should you cause any damage or by your actions allow one of our staff to come to harm, you will be immediately disqualified from the Royal Selection and made to answer for your crimes against the crown.”

  “I’m not planning on breaking any rules or hurting anyone.”

  His eyes darkened. “Good. See to it that you don’t.”

  With a click of his fingers, the giant, white, doubled doors into the palace opened just enough to allow us both to enter. If I thought the outside had been beautiful, then I had no words for the inside. Everything was flush with whites, blues, and silvers. The floors felt like marble under my feet, making my footfalls echo inside of the huge, vaulted chamber I’d just entered.

  Tellren was already heading towards a huge door off to the right, but I couldn’t help but stop and stare at what lay before me. A grand staircase leading to an upper balcony of unmarked doors and corridors flanked a wide tunnel. There, in the vastly large chamber beyond it, were two large, white chairs.

  Thrones.

  One was slightly taller than the other, its crown and handles fashioned into wolf’s heads. The one beside it looked a little thinner, its crown decorated with beautiful, symmetrical white antlers. No one was in there. No royals holding court. No King and Queen. Still, I could almost see them both sitting there, making royal decrees, and talking to their subjects.

  “If we’re quite ready,” Tellren said. He was standing by the door I was to go through.

  “Can we take a peek in here, first?” I asked.

  He cocked a bemused eyebrow, which I quickly took to mean no. “Right… sorry.”

  I followed him through the next set of doors, then down an airy corridor with many windows, and doors, and flowing curtains. Eventually, we reached what looked like a final door on the other side of which I thought I could hear voices.

  “Here goes…” I whispered.

  Tellren’s ears twitched, and he turned his head to the side. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “Oh… nothing. Just preparing myself, mentally.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Quite…” he trailed off, then he opened the door and gestured for me to go through.

  Mental note—this guy has great hearing.

  Waiting for me on the other side of that door was another lavishly decorated room, filled with sparkling white fixtures, a large dining table, and plenty of places to sit and lounge around in. Four black couches were arranged around the center of the room, each of them boasting a stack of furry blankets that looked cozy as all hell. On the side of the room opposite to the windows? A fireplace.

  It was the first one I had seen since I’d gotten here. I was starting to think the fae had no use for them, and that made sense, considering it was always winter out here. But to see one, even if it was inert, filled me with warmth as if it was working. It reminded me of home, of my mothers, of safety.

  “Oh,” I heard a voice cut from across the room. “It’s her.”

  Mareen.

  She and her entourage had been sipping Claire de Lune and talking before I’d arrived and shut them all up. I hated that she made her brand of dismissive scowl look so good, with her sky-blue hair and those black antlers crowning her forehead. She took another sip of her glowing, blue wine and set the glass down.

  “I’m surprised to see you made it here,” she said.

  “Ah, well,” I said, “I’m full of surprises.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable. You won’t be here very long.”

  I cocked a finger-gun and shot it at her. “It’s good to see you too, Mareen.”

  Naturally, I regretted doing that almost immediately. A finger-gun? Really? When in my life had I ever done that before? To anyone? Had I been momentarily possessed by the spirit of someone that was even more of a social train-wreck than I was? The giggling started as soon as Tellren came up beside me, with a glass of blue wine in his hand.

  Before he could even offer, I took the glass and poured the drink down my throat while he watched, his eyes wide. “Is there anymore?” I asked.

  A pause. “At once,” he said, with a little bow of the head.

  Mareen and her people seemed to have been the first to arrive. Naturally, I didn’t want to be anywhere near them, so as soon as Tellren returned with my second glass of Claire de Lune, I took it and found the staircase to the balcony upstairs.

  The alcohol was already starting to work by the time I reached the top and settled in a quiet spot, overlooking the foyer. I watched Tellren leave again, possibly to collect the next contestant. Beneath me, all I could hear were occasional chuckles and the sounds of bitchy merriment.

  I took another sip of my drink, letting the alcohol warm my body from the inside out.

  “Is that really a good idea?” Gullie whispered. “Remember, the Prince is meant to be coming to breakfast.”

  “Have you ever known me to be a drinker, Gull?” I asked.

  “No. Not really.”

  “Because I’m not. Really, I’m not. I mean, sure, I’ve gone to parties before—I think. I’ve definitely gone out drinking with… well, not with friends per se, and not so much gone out. It was more of a, grab a bottle of wine and sit indoors with a good book sort of deal. And only at birthdays; you know, once my mothers were done making a fuss of it.”

  “Oh Gods. You’re already drunk.”

  I took another sip of my wine. Yes, the world was already tilting a little, but I wasn’t drunk. “I’m definitely not drunk. And I don’t appreciate the accusation. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not really a drinker, and I think I may hate this stuff, but there’s no way I’m getting through any of this sober.”

  “Okay, but could you keep your voice down? Or do you want them all to know I’m here?”

  “Would you relax? At best they’ll think I talk to myself.” I giggled, couldn’t help it. “I mean, they already think I’m crap, why not also let them think I’m insane? Oh! It might give me an edge, you know?”

  “You need to stop. Right now. Humans were never meant to drink whatever this fae stuff is.”

  “I seem to recall you getting pretty drunk yourself once.”

  “Pixies aren’t meant to drink it either. Put it down.”

  “Alright, alright. Fine.” I spun around a little quickly, making the floor tilt a little further, but not enough to topple me over. After finding a table, I set my half-finished glass of fae wine down, and then sat on one of the chairs near the table. I sighed, letting my eyes fall shut.

  “You know what sucks?” I asked.

  “Being here?” Gullie said.

  “No… I mean, this is the prettiest place I’ve ever been to. Who wouldn’t love it here? No. Not that.”

  “What, then?”

  “Mareen.” I chuckled. “Mareen really sucks. With her pretty face, and her pretty hair, pretty—pretty—pretty, but rotten inside, you know?”

  Gullie groaned. “We need to get you sobered back up, and quick.” A moment later, she zipped out of my hair and floated in front of my eyes.

  I stared at her, trying to get her to come into focus. “You can’t be out here,” I said, pointing at her.

  “Be quiet,” she hissed.

  “I bet if she got to know me, she would like me. I’m a likeable person, right?”

  Gullie looked like she was about to hit me with magic, but she hissed “Oh shit,” and ducked back into my hair.

  In her place, I saw the silhouette of a person coming up the stairs, her shadow playing on the wall until a woman emerged wearing a furry white cloak, like mine. She had pointed ears, and wispy teal hair that should’ve been kept in a neat bun but seemed to be going a little wild. Unlike many of the other women I’d seen here, she didn’t have antlers—but fangs.

  Fangs, and little glowing tattoos on the apples of her cheeks and on her forehead.

  She also had a glass of wine in her hand. “Ah, I see I’m not the only one with good ideas around here,” she said, her voice low, and a little husky. “You’re Dahlia, right? I’m Melina?”

  I had no idea what to do or what to say. All I could do was stare at her because my body seemed incapable of quickly processing Claire de Lune, and I was too scared of what might happen if I opened my mouth.

  Instead of speaking, I did another incredibly clever thing. I reached for my drink, raised it as a toast, and took another sip.

  Chapter 6

  In moments I was supposed to meet the Prince, and I was drunk on fae wine. But first, I had to deal with the woman watching me from the top of the stairs. With every second that passed, the space between her introduction and my response deepened, and her suspicion grew.

  Do something, idiot!

  Get up!

  Speak!

  Dance!

  Anything is better than sitting on your ass and staring at her.

  Blinking hard, I stood and extended my hand. “Absolutely, yes,” I said, “That’s me.”

  Melina approached, though a little cautiously. “What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, glancing at my hand.

  Shit, she’s fae. The fae don’t shake hands! “Right,” I said, putting my hand away. “Nothing. Nothing at all! Do you want to sit?”

  She caught my eyes with hers, then she side-eyed the glass of wine in my other hand, and her lips curled into a drink. “Let me guess,” she said, “You’re not used to Claire de Lune yet?”

  “Me?” I looked at my drink, then at her, “Oh, I am, though. What gives you the impression that I’m not?”

  “I know all too well what it looks like when someone’s had too much of this rich people’s drink.

  “Rich… what?”

  “Lune grapes aren’t meant to be this potent; they must do something to it to make it stronger. Unfortunately, it’s all they seem to have to drink up here, so, it’ll have to do.”

  She was talking too fast. Or too much. I couldn’t tell. “I’ve noticed that too.”

  “If I were you, I’d sit down again.”

  I stared at her, trying to decide whether to continue pretending like I wasn’t already half-way to plastered, or if I should drop the act. She was right, of course. I had no business drinking this stuff, but I’d already necked one glass and was almost all the way done with another—all this before breakfast!

  How had I let those bitches get to me so quickly?

  How in the world was I meant to survive living with them?

  Sighing, I set my drink down and, as gracefully as I could, I parked my ass on the chair. Melina, not once dropping that grin of hers, joined me at the table. I watched her bring her glass up to her lips, her eyes scanning the level beneath us. She took a sip of her drink, that then turned into a long one. When she was done, there was no more wine left.

  She placed the glass on the table and looked over at me, one eyebrow cocked. “You’re not like the others,” Melina said, though it sounded like a question.

  I looked over at her, focusing on her lips if only to make the rest of her stop swaying. “What gave you that impression?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. So many things to choose from. I guess I could start from that incredible first impression you gave us all in the main hall, or we could talk about that dress the night of the party? Or I could ask you why you talk to yourself sometimes?”

  Shit.

  “Do I talk to myself?”

  She shrugged. “I may have seen it sometimes. It’s not totally out of the ordinary; I talk to myself sometimes, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. It’s the only other way to get any kind of positive affirmations up here.” She leaned a little closer. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the people around us are all assholes.”

  I scanned her cool, grey eyes, trying to get a read of her. Something about her was different to the other women I’d met so far. She was different. For one, she didn’t have antlers, like many of the others; she had sharp canines. Her senses were also pretty sharp, and she didn’t speak like—well, like she was a spoiled, rich brat.

  And let’s face it; so far, the other contestants all seemed like spoiled, rich brats with one possible exception.

  Aronia.

  “If you think I’m different,” I said, “It’s only because you’re different, too.”

  She shrugged. “I am. I know it. They know it. But unlike you, I don’t try to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Melina put her hands up. “I didn’t mean to trigger your defenses. I only meant, I know where I came from, and it’s not where they came from. I use that as my strength, and you should, too.”

  Use my humanity as a strength; sure.

  I stood, probably a little sharply. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the paranoid thought that this fae knew more about me than she was letting on, but I couldn’t be around her anymore. I needed to keep my distance from all of them—find somewhere I could get a little privacy and maybe deal with the alcohol coursing through my system before the Prince showed up.

  “I don’t appreciate being lectured,” I said, offering a short curtsy. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Melina shrugged, reached for my half-a-glass of Claire de Lune, and toasted it my way. “Don’t fall down the stairs,” she said, before finishing the wine.

  Groaning on the inside, I walked over to the stairwell, holding onto the banister to make sure I didn’t trip all over myself. My vision was still swimming, and I was sure my speech was slurred—even though I felt like I was behaving perfectly normally.

  “Alright,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath. “Here I go.”

  I placed one foot on the first step, then one by one, I took the stairs almost all the way to the bottom. Before I could even reach it, the doors to our little villa in the castle palace opened, and Tellren stepped through with Aronia and the two other contestants.

  I froze on the spot, one hand on the banister, both feet planted firmly on solid ground. Now that we were all here, Tellren asked us all to follow him into the dining area—where the Prince would be waiting for breakfast.

  I watched all the other girls flutter past and through the open doorway Tellren was stood by, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because now I had another problem. I really needed to pee. That wine had hit me hard. Drinking it had been stupid, but there was no turning back, now.

  Why did I always need to pee at the worst moments?

  “You coming?” Melina asked, brushing past me as she made her way down the stairs.

  “Me?” I asked, “Yeah, sure.”

  As soon as I’m not terrified of moving.

  She paused at the foot of the stairs. “So? Or do you want to keep the Prince waiting?”

  I looked around. “Any chance I can find a bathroom first?”

  Tellren made a throaty sound, somewhere between a cough and a grunt. When I looked at him, his eyes were wide, and his lips pressed thinly. He yanked his head toward the opening, and pointed with his hand a little more forcefully, indicating another clear no.

  Dammit.

  Sucking it up, I followed Melina through the open doorway, trying not to look Tellren in the eyes. I was lucky there was so much to see, so much beauty and splendor to take in as I walked through the hallway from the villa’s mane room and into the dining room.

  A massive table had been prepared, with plates, and cutlery, and chalices to drink from. A couple of ice sculptures sat on the table, chilling the air around them—one of an elk, with massively tall antlers. Another of a wolf, howling at an invisible moon. There were eight chairs, each arranged so they sat opposite to each other, and one head chair.

  Aronia and Mareen glared at each other, and a moment later the scramble commenced. Each of the women around me wanted the spot closest to the Prince, and there were only two chairs to claim. I couldn’t have predicted the royal rumble that took place in the blink of an eye.

  The women knocked and shoved past me, any manner of decorum totally, and completely lost. They were like animals, racing around the table, pushing, shoving, and doing everything short of grabbing knives from the table and stabbing each other with them; all for the privilege of sitting next to the Prince.

  “Know how I know you’re different?” Melina asked.

  She was the only woman who hadn’t tried fighting for a seat near the Prince. “How?” I asked.

  “Because you aren’t that.”

  I side-glanced her. “Why haven’t you tried for one of those seats?”

  “Because I’m not insane, like they are. Look at them. Fighting for a seat near the Prince, like that’s going to win them any points.”

  “Won’t it? They’ll get to talk to him, right?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I honestly don’t care.” She started heading for one of the chairs that was furthest away from the head of the table. She tapped the space where she wanted me to sit. “Come. Sit. Let them fight it out.”

  I walked over to the chair and sat down. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

  “Now you’re getting it. Save your energy for the fights you know you can win.”

  A moment later, whatever had passed for a fight on the other side of the table started dying down. Mareen and Aronia had both secured their spots at the head of the table. The other four women sat two by two, facing each other, panting from the exertion. At the end of the table, Melina and myself.