Marcus' knuckles rap against my parlor door. "Are you decent?" He shouts. "I have my status report!"

Of course, he has to ask if I'm clothed. The last time he brought me an update I was only in a robe. Scandalous, I know.

"Come in!" I call back, slightly flustered.

Kennedy zips the back of my dress up as I push on uncle Barney's ring and fasten Brooke's necklace.

"The cameras are set up, the caterers are ready and they're all here." Marcus rattles off looking at me through the mirror.

I falter in picking up the golden diadem I'll be wearing. I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat. "All of them?"

"All sixty-one," Marcus nods.

I set the diadem back down and twist my fingers together. "Thanks, Marc, you were a lifesaver today."

"It was no problem," he shrugs. "It gave me something to do today."

I highly doubt Marcus enjoyed going between the ballroom and my chambers all day. But I appreciate his lie none the less.

"Go have fun," I smile. "Just try and not make Julie cry this time."

"It was one time!" He bellows. I can tell he's sick of us teasing him about it. Tough luck.

"You slapped the controller out of her hands!"

"She was making us lose!"

"She was seven!"

Marcus sticks his tongue out at me. Real mature. "Don't you have a ball to get to?"

"Touche." I laugh. I shake my head slightly as he leaves.

I pick the diadem back up and begin turning it over in my hands as I pace the room. "I should have made them lower the number."

I get to the end of my room and spin on my heel. "I can't sift through sixty-one men in four hours!"

I can feel my stomach tightening. "That's fifteen men per hour. I have to talk to four men every fifteen minutes!"

My face is beginning to heat up and my skin tingles. My breath starts coming in fast puffs and my thoughts are spinning out of control.

"I can't do this!" I scream. I turn and face Kennedy, my dress swishes from my sudden movement.

What I'd one of them figured out my secret. Do people have a radar for that? It's too dangerous.

My breath is ragged. "Call it off. Send them home. I'm not doing this!"

My eyes are boring holes in Kennedy's mask. I wait for them to move, to send the men home. But they just slowly shake their head. "You know you can't do that Princess."

"Yes I can," I say, sounding like a child. Kennedy just shakes their head again.

"You'll never hear the end of it from your parents."

"Kennedy!" I plead.

Kennedy doesn't answer. They walk towards me. Not slowly, but not in the quick jaunt that is the constant. Kennedy takes the diadem out of my hands and flips it so it's right side up. They sweep aside the hairs on my forehead and push the diadem onto my head.

"You are Emmalyne Faust," Kennedy says placing a gloved hand on either side of my shoulders. "You are the most powerful woman in the world. Why are you letting a silly group of boys scare you?"

If only you knew, Kennedy.

I make a futile attempt of shrugging. "I don't want to get married."

"It's not that bad," Kennedy says.

"Wait!" I cry. "You're married!"

"I was," Kennedy says. "My spouse died two years ago."

Here I am complaining about not wanting to get married, and Kennedy has had a dead partner. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "Do you have any kids?"

"They died before we were able to have any." Kennedy lets their hands fall from my shoulders.

"You exempt from having children now," I say. It's not a question because I know the law.

"And getting married again," Kennedy adds. "Emmalyne, I want you to listen to me."

That's the second time they've done that. Called me by my real name and not my title. I didn't notice the first time because I was too busy falling on my ass, but I noticed this time.

"You get to pick who you're marrying, and even after today, you'll still have two months before you get engaged. If you only select John and Logan so be it, but your soulmate could be down there waiting for you."

Kennedy is right, it's annoying. I grasp their hands and give them a small shake. "Thank you, you're a good servant."

They nod and pull out of my grasp. "Go, I'll see you at twelve."

Music is already playing when I reach the second floor. There is a golden carpet leading from the front door, up the stairs, and into the ballroom. I can see a few men chatting and holding champagne flutes.

I repeat Kennedy's words in a low whisper. "You are Emmalyne Faust, the most powerful woman in the world."

I step out into the light and walk into the ballroom with my head held high. Heads turn as I pass and the men drop in hasty bows. I cross the room to where the Elders are waiting. My grandmother is wearing a black silk dress and my mother's white dress is a monstrosity of tulle. All the men look the same, black-tie formal suits. The caterers are the only people that stand out, black slacks, and a white button-up shirt.

I embrace my grandmother and look out at the sea of males, all of which have their eyes on me. "Let's get this shit show in the road." I walk away and hear my grandmother snicker, which must mean she heard me.

After two hours the only man I've spoken to that piqued my interest was named Gregory Peacock. He was very polite and his mother is a movie star.

I can see reporters milling about getting interviews with some of the men. The Elders are also doing their part of chatting up my potential suitors. I'm scanning the room for who to talk to next when I see Logan Ryans.

I walk over to him and smile. His hair is longer than when I last saw him. He smiles back and sets down his drink.

"Good evening," I say.

He bows and kisses my hand. "And to you. I would ask you to dance but I am atrocious at it."

"Nonsense. Anyone can dance to a song like this." I take his hand and pull him over an empty square of flooring. No one is really dancing because partners are lacking.

Although my parents are rocking together nearby, it's almost nice to be reminded that my father has a heart. At least he loves my mother is not his children.

"It's simple really," I say wrapping my arms around Logan's neck. "Just wrap your hands around my waist."

He looks at me stunned for a moment. Then complies, they're a little too high, but I don't bother correcting him and risk looking vulgar.

"Perfect, now we just sway to the music," I smile as we begin to move slowly.

"That's it?" Logan questions looking down at my face. "No fancy twirls or box stepping?"

I can't help but laugh at that. "I haven't box-stepped since I was eleven. No this is the easy type of dancing."

We sway in silence and Logan looks around for a moment. "Everyone is looking at us." He murmurs. "It's like they know I don't belong here."

"You deserve to be here just as much as the rest of those men. Most of them didn't get a hand-delivered invitation. I can also guarantee you that they're looking at me."

My dress isn't exactly subtle. It's a pale gold covered in glitter, I shine under all the lights in this room, I feel like it would be hard not to look at me.

"I've talked to a few of them," Logan says. "Most of their parents are in the government or famous. My parents cut hair."

"I think it's cute." I might say, having lightly stalked Logan's family a few days ago. "They have an adjoining barbershop and hair salon. Along with a cute little store. It's romantic."

"I don't understand you." Logan shakes his head. "Why me?"

"Because you were kind," I answer. "You were kind every second I spoke to you. Not arrogant and pretentious like the rest of these men. They think it's their birthright to be here. Not even a quarter of them deserve to be here."

"But I don't have connections or money or influence. You'd be much better off with someone like Mason Harkos or Quinton Mys."

"Mason looked at my chest the entire time we spoke and Quinton reeked of wine." I saw lowly. "Don't tell them I said that. But Logan, I knew I wanted to submit you the day I invited you to the ball. This whole thing is just a formality."

"But you can't submit just me," Logan muttered.

"I can't." I agreed. "But I want you here more than most of these dolts."

"That's comforting Princess."

"Please don't call me Princess," I say as the song slows to an end. "My name is Emmalyne."

He nods. "Emmalyne."

I kiss him on the cheek and walk away. I've already spent more time with him than I had time to. I weave through the crowd some more and spot John Andrew standing by a table full of food trays looking out on the crowd.

I make my way over to him stopping twice to talk to three other men. By the time I get there, his eyes are trained on me. He straightens his tie and looks at his feet.

"Hello, John!" I smile. He bows and glances up at me.

"How are you, Princess?" He askes.

"I'm doing well." I smile and look down at his lapel. There is a shiny gob on it. "You haven't been interviewed have you?"

'What?" John asks slightly panicked. "Why is there something in my teeth?"

"No," I giggle slightly at his reaction. "You've just got a little something."

I pick up a napkin from the table and dab at his jacket. He looks down at the drool and groans. "Ugh, that would be the work of Charlotte."

I cock my head and make sure the drool is gone. "Charlotte?"

"Oh, my mom had the baby three weeks ago. Her name is Charlotte Mae. My dad was still working and I was trying to let my mom rest before I left so I got ready with Charlotte at my side."

"That's sweet of you," I say. "Giving your mother a break. David was a pain for my parents when he was a newborn."

"I try." John sighs. "How is your evening going?"

Stange, I've been asking questions all night, no one has had a chance to ask about me. "I'm hanging in there."

John gives a small chuckle and looks around the room. "I bet this is a tad overwhelming. I can't imagine being in your shoes."

"It's not all bad," I admit. "It can be stressful but I have my sketches to keep me sane."

Sketches. The word just slipped out of my mouth. Stupid, stupid, girl!

John raises his eyebrows. "Sketches? You draw?"

I feel my cheeks warm. "Yeah, clothing mostly. It helps me de-stress." This is so embarrassing.

"I write," John admits. "Read too. It's the only thing I really enjoy. My dad wants me to become an official like him, I don't know that I have it in me though."

"What do you write?" I venture.

He looks down at his feet and runs his fingers through his shiny black hair. "Fiction mostly. Right now I'm writing a story about a group of friends at the start of the Burning Period."

"The Nitors." I nod. "Exciting. What's it about."

"It takes place in this city called New York." Before everything went to rubbish a few major cities stuck it out. New York, L.A., and Tokyo lasted the longest. "But apparently in New York, the people lived in the subway tunnels. They caved all known entrances when other countries started doing sweeps of the city. Colin, the protagonist, he's on one of the cave teams. They set up some explosives they found-"

I smile at John, his eyes lit up when he started talking about his story. This is something he's really passionate about.

"-what? Why are you smiling like that? Oh, I sound stupid don't I? You don't care about my dumb story. I'm sorry."

"No," I say hurriedly. "You got so excited about it. I like that you have something you care about so much. I'd like to read it when you finish writing it. If you don't mind."

"No!" John says excitedly. "Not at all. I still have a lot to write about, but I will definitely send it to you when it's done."

"Thank you." I grin. "Have a lovely night."

I walk away and continue to speak to men as I coast through my night. Two hours later my cheeks ache from smiling and I regret not consuming any wine. I bid goodnight to all of the men as they exit the palace and stand alone in the ballroom gulping down water while I wait for the Elders.

My parents and Grandfather enter, they are glowing and have unnaturally large smiles.

"Where is Grandmother?" I ask, as soon as they are close enough.

"She had to retire." My grandfather answers. "What did you think of the men? How many are you submitting?"

"Three," I reply.

My parents raise their eyebrows at each other. "Three?" My father repeats.

"Yes, three. Gregory Peacock, Johnathan Andrew, and Logan Ryans." I list off on my fingers.

My grandfather purses his lips. "We only entertained your invitation to Mr. Ryans because Kelly had insisted. Don't you think you should select a more respectable suitor?"

"No," I reply bluntly. "This is my future and my choice. Logan is just as worthy of the throne as any other man."

"Very well." My grandfather nods. "They will receive notices of their selection tomorrow and then the trail will start within a week."

I nod curtly. "Excellent. Goodnight."