Aria's POV
The slap comes before I even open my eyes.
"Get up, you lazy thing!" Celeste's voice cuts through my sleep like a knife. "Do you think we feed you to sleep all day?"
My cheek stings as I jolt awake on the thin mattress in the attic. The wooden floor is cold beneath me. I blink at the darkness—it's still early, the sun hasn't even risen yet. But I can already hear Celeste's footsteps stomping down the stairs, and I know what's coming if I don't move fast.
Today is Selection Day. The day the phoenix fire chooses Eldrath's next queen.
And somehow, I'm supposed to go watch it happen.
I scramble to my feet, my body aching from yesterday's work. Fourteen hours of scrubbing floors, hauling water, and mending clothes. My hands are raw and red, the skin cracked around my knuckles. I glance at the blue dress hanging on the wall—Lyanna's old dress that she wore once and hated. It's too fancy for me, with its silver buttons and clean hem. Celeste said I could borrow it for today.
Borrow. Not keep. Never keep.
I throw on my work dress instead and run downstairs. The kitchen is already hot, the stove burning. I need to make breakfast for the family before they wake—eggs, bread, jam, and the expensive coffee Celeste likes. My hands shake as I crack the eggs into the pan.
Today, Dorian and I will watch the Selection together, I think, and warmth spreads through my chest despite everything. He wants me there. He wants me to see his world.
For five years, Dorian has been my secret. My hope. The merchant's son with kind eyes and a gentle smile who saw past my poverty and loved me anyway. Today, after the Selection ceremony, he promised we'd tell his parents about us. Finally, I'll have a real family. Finally, I'll belong somewhere.
The egg pan hisses, too hot. I grab the handle without thinking—
Pain explodes across my palm. I bite back a scream and drop the pan. It clatters to the floor, eggs spilling everywhere.
"What was that?" Celeste's shriek comes from upstairs.
No, no, no. My burned hand throbs as I scramble to clean up the mess. The eggs are ruined. I'll have to start over, and there are only four eggs left, and—
"Aria!" Celeste appears in the doorway, her face twisted with rage. She's already dressed in her fine purple gown for the Selection, her hair perfect. "You clumsy, worthless girl! Do you know how much eggs cost?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" I'm on my knees, scooping ruined eggs back into the pan with my bare hands. The burned one screams with pain.
Celeste's hand tangles in my hair and yanks my head back. "You're going to make us look like fools today, aren't you? A charity case we took in out of kindness, and you can't even cook breakfast without destroying it."
"I'll fix it," I gasp. "Please, I'll—"
"Mama, what's all the noise?" Lyanna appears, beautiful in her pink silk gown. Her blonde hair cascades down her back in perfect curls. She sees me on the floor and smirks. "Oh. The orphan broke something again."
Orphan. The word stabs deeper than any knife.
Celeste releases my hair and I collapse forward, catching myself on my burned hand. Fresh pain makes my vision blur.
"Clean this up," Celeste orders. "Then you may get dressed. And if you embarrass us at the Selection, Aria, you'll sleep outside for a week. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
They leave me there on the floor, surrounded by broken eggs and shame.
I work faster after that, ignoring the pain. New eggs, new pan. Bread toasted perfectly. Coffee made exactly how Celeste likes it—strong and bitter. I serve them at the table, standing silently while they eat. My stomach growls. There's no food left for me, but that's normal. I'll eat their scraps later.
"So," Lyanna says, picking at her eggs, "you're really going to the Selection? You know commoners aren't allowed inside, right?"
My heart skips. "Dorian got me special permission. He said—"
"Dorian said," Lyanna mimics in a cruel voice. "Aria, you do know he's just being nice to you, right? The way people are nice to stray dogs?"
"Lyanna," Celeste warns, but she's smiling into her coffee cup.
"I mean, it's sweet how you think a merchant's son would actually marry a laundress's bastard," Lyanna continues. "It's adorable, really."
Heat floods my face. "He loves me."
"Does he?" Lyanna's eyes gleam. "Has he kissed you?"
The silence answers for me.
"Has he held your hand in public? Introduced you to his parents? Given you any token of affection at all?"
My throat tightens. "He's waiting for the right time—"
"Oh, Aria." Lyanna laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. "You really are as stupid as you look."
I want to run. I want to scream. But I just stand there, holding the empty breakfast tray, my burned hand throbbing.
"That's enough," Celeste says, but there's no real anger in her voice. "Aria, go get dressed. We leave in one hour. And remember—you are there as our servant, not as a guest. You will stand in the back. You will not speak to nobles. You will not touch anything. Are we clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I flee to the attic.
The blue dress waits for me like a promise. I strip off my work clothes with shaking hands and pull it on. It fits perfectly—of course it does, Lyanna and I are the same size, even though she pretends I'm smaller and weaker. I stare at myself in the cracked mirror.
For just a moment, I look like I belong. Like I'm someone who matters.
Then I see my hands—red and rough and burned. My hair, which I tried to curl last night with rags, is already falling flat. And my eyes... my strange amber eyes that Celeste always said made me look "odd" and "unnatural."
I'm still just me. Still the orphan. Still the charity case.
Still the girl nobody really wants.
But Dorian wants me, I remind myself. He must. Why else would he spend five years courting me? Why else would he want me at the Selection today?
A knock sounds on the attic door—three soft taps. My heart leaps.
"Aria?" Marcus's voice, quiet and nervous. "Can I come in?"
Marcus is Celeste's son, two years younger than me. He's always been kind, slipping me extra food when his mother isn't looking. I crack open the door.
He looks worried, his dark eyes darting down the stairs. "Aria, I... I need to tell you something. About today. About Dorian."
"What about him?" Something cold moves in my stomach.
"I heard him talking to Lyanna last night. They didn't know I was there, and—" He stops, looking sick. "Aria, I think you should skip the Selection. Stay home. Please."
"Why? What did you hear?"
"I can't—if Mother finds out I told you, she'll—"
"Marcus!" Celeste's voice booms from downstairs. "Get down here now!"
He flinches. "I have to go. Just... please be careful today. Please."
Then he's gone, running down the stairs.
I stand there, my heart pounding. What did he hear? What don't I know?
But I have to go. I have to see Dorian. He'll explain everything. He always does.
I make my way downstairs where Celeste and Lyanna wait by the door. Celeste looks me up and down with cold eyes.
"You'll do, I suppose. Remember—you embarrass us, you're out on the street. We won't claim you. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
We step outside into the early morning. The streets are already crowded with people heading to the Sacred Sanctum. Everyone is dressed in their finest clothes, hoping to witness history—the moment the divine phoenix fire chooses the kingdom's next queen.
Lyanna links her arm through Celeste's, and they walk ahead. I follow three steps behind, like a servant should.
Like I've always followed.
Like maybe I always will.
But today will be different, I tell myself. Today, Dorian will claim me publicly. Today, everything changes.
We join the river of people flowing toward the Sanctum. The massive golden building rises ahead, its crystal windows catching the morning sun. My breath catches. I've never been inside before. Never been allowed.
The crowd thickens as we approach the entrance. Guards check invitations. I don't have one—Dorian is supposed to meet me here and bring me in. I scan the crowd, searching for his familiar face.
There. By the fountain. Dorian in his finest dark blue coat, looking handsome as always.
But he's not alone.
Lyanna breaks away from Celeste and runs to him. He catches her with a laugh, spinning her around. Their faces... they're too close. Too familiar.
And then he kisses her.
Not a quick peck. A real kiss. The kind he's never given me.
The world stops spinning.
Celeste appears beside me, her voice soft and poisonous: "Did you really think he wanted you, Aria? My daughter has been courting him for two years. You were just... convenient. A charity project to make him look kind."
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't—
Dorian sees me across the crowd. For a moment, our eyes meet.
He smiles.
And mouths two words: I'm sorry.
Then he turns back to Lyanna, his arm around her waist, and they walk into the Sacred Sanctum together.
As lovers.
As a real couple.
As everything I'll never be.
Celeste's hand grips my shoulder, nails digging in. "Come along, Aria. Let's get you inside. I want you to watch the Selection from the servant's corner. I want you to see exactly where you belong."
She pulls me forward, and I follow because I don't know what else to do.
My chest feels hollow. My eyes burn but no tears come.
I'm going to watch the phoenix fire choose a queen while my heart breaks into pieces.
But as Celeste drags me through the golden doors, past the guards who sneer at my borrowed dress, something strange happens.
The phoenix mark on my chest—the one I was born with, the one Celeste always made me hide under bandages—starts to burn.
Not painfully.
Like it's waking up.