Participant young ladies awoke in the guest wing at first light, whispering behind chamber doors as maids rushed about with combs, ribbons, and trays of warm bread. The palace, usually calm at this hour, buzzed with anticipation.
Today was the first official test in choosing a suitable candidate for Prince Adrien, and though no announcement had declared it, the air carried expectation thick as perfume.
Queen Eleanor arrived in the ballroom precisely as the bell struck nine. Her gown, a deep blue silk embroidered with silver vines, commanded the room without effort. Prince Adrien stood at her right, shoulders straight, expression neutral but polite.
Rowan lingered slightly behind them, scribbling notes onto a long scroll as if preparing for battle. Cinderella, Anastasia, and Drizella stood to the left in matching pale green dresses-helpers for the day, though their roles varied wildly.
"Good morning, ladies," the queen began, voice gentle yet sharp enough to slice through nerves.
"Today's assessment concerns presentation and etiquette-how one conducts herself in a royal setting, how she greets others, and how she moves through court. Beauty fades, but grace and composure remain."
Several girls visibly straightened, chins lifting, shoulders rolling back. One nearly fainted from determination alone.
Adrien stepped forward. "You will greet the royal family as if entering court, hold brief conversation, and demonstrate ballroom introductions."
He paused.
"There is no need to impress us by force. Simply be yourselves."
Rowan muttered, "Though I suppose we'll see how long that lasts," earning a discreet elbow from Drizella and a stifled laugh from Anastasia.
The first candidate glided forward, skirts floating. She curtsied smoothly to the queen, nodded respectfully to Adrien, and offered a composed smile. Her voice trembled only slightly as she spoke of her home province and its orchards. Eleanor nodded approvingly and gestured for Rowan to record impressions.
The next candidate, however, curtsied so deep she nearly fell on her face.
Cinderella stepped forward quickly, catching her elbow before the poor girl crashed to the floor.
"Easy," she whispered kindly.
"Grace doesn't require suffering." The girl managed a nervous laugh and tried again with less drama.
As the line moved, a pattern emerged. Some spoke too loudly, eager to look confident; others muttered so softly even Rowan's sharp ears failed to catch a word. One girl spoke only of fashion for three whole minutes without taking a breath, while another discussed taxes and grain production so seriously that the prince blinked twice in surprise.
Between groups, Anastasia and Drizella handled small corrections-posture, curtsey angle, arm placement-while Cinderella smoothed over disasters and soothed nerves like a quiet guardian angel.
The assistance wasn't officially part of the test, but Queen Eleanor observed closely how candidates reacted to help.
Some thanked sincerely; others ignored or brushed Cinderella off, assuming her a lowly servant. Rowan made particularly vigorous notes in those moments.
Halfway through, refreshments arrived. Tea, biscuits, and little pastries decorated the side tables, and here the queen watched interaction more than presentation.

A few candidates elbowed aside others to get the raspberry tarts; one snapped at a maid for being slow with sugar.
Eleanor's brow arched only slightly, but Rowan's quill scratched aggressively, as if carving the girl's fate in ink.
After refreshments, ballroom introductions began with Adrien demonstrating proper form alongside Cinderella.
The candidates followed: a whirl of skirts, curtsies, and slightly awkward bows. To his credit, the prince offered encouragement without favoritism, guiding those who stumbled and nodding gently to those who managed well.
By midday, the test concluded. The queen thanked them all and dismissed the candidates to rest before dinner.
When the ballroom finally emptied, Eleanor turned to her team.
"First impressions?" she asked.
"Some promising," Rowan said. "Some... ambitious."
"Some dreadful," Adrien added bluntly.
"And some surprisingly sweet," Cinderella murmured.
The queen smiled. "Then Day One has served its purpose."
Before dinner, the palace halls filled once more with the sound of rustling skirts and hushed excitement. The candidates were allowed a brief walk through the garden terrace to "compose themselves" before the evening meal.
Anastasia had been assigned to supervise, though the task mostly involved reminding ladies not to pick the roses or chase the peacocks.
She stood beneath an arcade column, adjusting the ribbon on her glove, when a sharp voice cut through the delicate chatter.
"I don't see why she's even here,"
one candidate sneered loudly enough for her circle to hear.
"Look at her hair and-what is that dress? It's practically last season. Honestly, if this is the standard of palace attendants, I pity the prince."
"But her face is totally made for an attendant." Someone added.
A few girls gasped; others laughed behind painted fans. Anastasia flushed red, first from shock then humiliation, but managed to keep her chin level.
"My dress is perfectly fine," she said quietly, "and fashion isn't today's test."
"Oh please," the girl replied, stepping closer. "Presentation is everything. If I were choosing attendants, I'd at least choose someone elegant. Not-" her gaze swept over Anastasia, "whatever you are."
Anastasia stiffened, ready to walk away before she said something regrettable.
But before she could move, a palace guard stepped forward from the shadows near the terrace entrance.
"Enough," he said calmly.
His voice carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed, despite wearing a guard's uniform.
"Courtesy should be practiced toward all, not only those from whom you expect favor."
The rude candidate blinked. "Excuse me? Who are you to-"
"A witness," he replied, unbothered. "And someone who believes rank means nothing without manners."
She tried to retort, but the weight of nearby eyes and a few raised brows from fellow competitors silenced her. With a huff, she stormed away, her followers scattering awkwardly behind.
Anastasia exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. She glanced at the guard.
"Thank you, but I could have handled it."
"You did handle it," he said. "I merely adjusted the audience."
His eyes held a glint of humor, warm and oddly familiar.
"Garden terrace can be unforgiving for public humiliation."
She laughed-a soft, surprised sound-and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Still. It was kind."
He offered his arm, not as flirtation, but as a gesture of dignity.
"Walk with me?"
They strolled along the gravel path, where the late afternoon light struck the windows of the palace with gold. Peacocks strutted near the hedges, and the fountain sang its endless melody.
They did not speak immediately; silence, strangely, did not demand to be filled.
After a moment he asked, "Does it trouble you? What she said?"
Anastasia considered. "Once it might have. Now..." She paused. "I've learned people can only belittle what they think they understand. Most of them don't know me well enough to truly wound."
He nodded as if impressed. "A wise answer."
"And you?" she asked. "Do you always defend strangers?"
"Only when they are being wronged," he said. "Or when they deserve fairness."
Another beat of quiet. Then she smiled-not at him, but at the garden, as if the whole scene had reminded her she was not small nor insignificant nor plain, just uniquely herself.
"It's beautiful out here," she said.
"It is," he replied, though his gaze lingered on her expression rather than the flowers.
The palace bell chimed in the distance, calling candidates to dinner. Anastasia looked toward the hall.
"We should go back."
He released her arm, stepping back into his guard's role as effortlessly as breathing.
"After you, my lady."
She walked ahead, feeling oddly lighter, and he followed at a respectful distance. No flirting, no declarations, yet something warm and unspoken settled quietly between them-like a promise not yet named.
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SIDE NOTE: I was so stuck with the test part cause I have no idea what kind of test can select candidates. That's not the main part of the story but I've to write something. I did research about tests taken and have to select. 🥲🥲 such a hard work.
If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.