The Selection: Bride Of The Dark Dragon

MIRA

The first lesson of the day is held in the main ballroom. As usual, I am the last one to enter and other girls are already standing in a straight line just as beautiful little soldiers that they are. In pretty dresses that is.

I can’t help but notice that some of them are wearing gerdian dresses today. And some – even jewellery. Or both. I guess the talent show was more successful than I thought. However, the overall mood is not great and you can feel it. I think my performance had the desired effect and those pretty dolls have finally started thinking about what is really going on here.

I pass Xia, Morgan, and Desirae and they are all in new outfits in the latest gerdian fashion. The three of them are beaming, talking to each other, but when they see me the effect fades.

“I didn’t think you would be able to attend today if I am honest,” Desirae whispers, “Did Crown Prince…”

“The Crown Prince had to leave early yesterday,” I grin at her, “Unfortunately, we didn’t get to have a proper conversation. Or any conversation for that matter.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Morgan snorts, “Miradora Freyn, I’ve never seen a girl more lucky than you!”

“Or more crazy!” Xia chimes in, “That little trick of yours yesterday would cost a life to anyone else! Yet, here you are! How on heavens do you even do that?”

“I guess the gods are looking over me!” I smile. For a second there I want to tell them about the Emperor’s Order, but then decide against it. I am not sure if we are that good of friends in the first place.

And also, Derrien asked me to keep it to myself if it is possible. He probably has his reasons to ask that of me. And I do not want to fail him. Not anymore. I wonder where he is… Is he thinking of me the way I keep thinking about him?

Lady Cecilia marches into the hall, clearly ready to kill. And when her eyes stop on me, I gulp.

“Lady Miradora Freyn!” her voice is so loud, I can almost say that she is shouting, “Five steps to the front!”

What is this? Army?

I sigh and follow her command without creating a fuss. That was to be expected!

“Turn so that everyone could see you!” she hisses and, when I obey again, starts talking, “Look at this lady! The one, who thinks she is too good for the Crown Prince of Gerdian Empire himself! The one, who disobeyed the rules numerous times and now would have to pay the consequences!”

She makes a significant pause and I start wondering myself where she is going with this. She is looking at me triumphantly and I am starting to get worried here. What else can they do to us? Punish physically? Torment mentally? For a second there I remember Isidore back at the dungeon, dirty, bloody, and shaking… But then one of Cecilia’s helpers brings in three wooden boxes in her hands and the room fills with whispers.

“Those are for you!” lady Cecilia takes the boxes from the girl who brought them and shoves them into my hands. “Not one, not two…but THREE!!! EMPTY! JEWELLERY! BOXES!”

She looks at me as if she just announced to me that I am terminally ill at the very least. I look at the boxes and check them just to make sure that they are empty.

“Just three?” I ask, not being able to hide the disappointment and hear Morgan snorting loudly, while the hall fills with surprised gasps.

“Is that not enough of an embarrassment for you?!” if lady Cecilia had a knife she would stab me right now.

“Not really,” I say honestly, “I thought that there would be many more by now…”

“You!” our curator turns red, “You are the worst student I had in years! The good thing now is that at least the Crown Prince will see how useless you are as a Crown Princess and would definitely pick someone else… So, girls, grab your chance while you are at it!”Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

Oh, I am going to cry. I wish all the gods could hear her words and make them true!

“Actually,” Tristan appears out of the grand doorway, and everyone curtsies before him, “The Crown Prince has just sent lady Miradora numerous gifts. I doubt that his intentions have changed. The servants have just delivered them to her door and I had to place a guard there as well as the chambers are still protected by the prince’s barrier.”

“Maybe he has sent them before the talent show?” one of the girls squeaks in hope.

“Not really,” Tristan shakes his shoulders and only now I notice that he is holding a similar box to the three I have already got in his hands, only bigger, “He also ordered to give lady Mira this.”

“It’s another empty jewellery box!” I hear whisper after whisper.

Tristan comes to me and tries to hand me the box, however, my hands are already busy.

“I’ll help,” Morgan comes forward and takes the first three from me, winking at me at the same time.

“Thanks” I mutter and open the box in Tristan’s hands with hope in my heart for it to be empty as well.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he whispers sadly, “This thing is heavy!”

Damn it!

But when the lid is off, I gasp. Inside, on a red velvet cushion lies a small crown forged of black gold. Oh, this is bad! Bad, bad, bad!

I take the crown out and for the first time, the whole room goes quiet. Why on heavens would he give me a crown after everything?! He looked properly furious yesterday! Why…

“There is also a letter,” my ex-fiancé adds, “Under the cushion.”

I look closer and notice the edge of an envelope. Opening it up I see a very short letter: “Nice try, my princess. Life with you would never be boring and I can’t wait to start educating you on our rules. His Highness The Crown Prince of Gerdian Empire Ryden Dargen.”

Ugh.

For a second, my eyes meet with Tristan’s and he gives me a sympathetic look.

“Do I have to wear it?” I ask him pitifully.

“I am afraid so,” he clenches his lips, “That’s the crown that is given to the person with the best performance at the talent show. You have to wear it at least today. Here, let me help you.”

He takes out a crown and throws the box to one of the helpers. I lower myself a bit and he places the damn thing onto my head. When I raise, our eyes meet again and I notice that his are filled with sadness and pain.

“Does it suit me?” I snort nervously.

“Nothing gerdian would ever suit you,” he whispers.