The Royal Matchmaking Competition: Prince Zadkiel

By Zoiy G. Galloay

One prince charming searching for his true love.

Twelve beautiful damsels, elves, a dwarf & a commoner competing for the prince's hand in marriage.

One shadow lurking be

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoiy G. Galloay
• Release date: Jun 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958996041

Book preview

Praise for the

Royal Matchmaking Competition Series

Zadkiel is a charming, strong, and lovable protagonist that attracts the reader’s attention at once and makes you want to see him find true love with one of these girls. . . . I highly recommend ‘The Royal Matchmaking Competition: Prince Zadkiel’ by Zoiy Galloay to any fans of YA Romance, be it based in the contemporary or fantasy genres.

-Reader Views

If you take a scoop of 'The Bachelor,' a scoop of fantasy, a teaspoon of 'The Dating Game,' a dash of royal family drama and a sprinkling of 'Princess Diaries' I think that you'd end up with something fairly close to this book. I had such fun.

-Reedsy Discovery on Prince Zadkiel

An endearing coming-of-age story with plenty of romance amidst an assassin mystery…

-Independent Book Review

'The Fate of the Empire' by Zoiy Galloay, is what light fantasy romance is all about. Welcome to good clean fun with a sense of humor.

-Tammy Ruggles, Reader Views on The Fate of the Empire

Cheeky in its approach, spirited and splendidly written. The Royal Matchmaking Competition is a must-read for fans of Teen & Young Adult Romantic Fantasy and is highly recommended.

-Book Viral Review

Twelve eligible bachelors. One traitorous assassin. One naïve Princess. Who will she choose? In all, Galloay has created a vivid fairytale world, with bright and vivacious characters.

-S. C. from Reedsy Discovery on Princess Qloey

The Royal Matchmaking Competition is a delightful young adult fantasy romance with a touch of intrigue and excitement . . . [it] combines coming of age with romance and mystery in a terrific contemporary fairy story.

-Readers' Favorite Review

Zoiy Galloay is a very entertaining writer and she seems to have found a good genre to continue in, with this pseudo-medieval fantasy setting.

-Jamie Garner, Reedsy Discovery, on The Fate of the Empire

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Also By Zoiy

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The Royal Matchmaking Competition Series:

Princess Qloey

Prince Zadkiel

The Fate of the Empire

Princess Zoyechka

The Flight of the Gryphon

The Search for the Truth Within Trilogy:

The Wizard Code

More to come . . .

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This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, locations, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE ROYAL MATCHMAKING COMPETITION: PRINCE ZADKIEL. Copyright © 2023 Zoiy G. Galloay. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Printed in the United States of America

Illustrations © Zoiy G. Galloay

Illustrations artist: David Kondratiuk

Book cover by Joy Author Design Studio

To help the author, review the book on Goodreads and wherever you purchased, received, or downloaded the book.

First Edition: June 9, 2023

ISBN: 979-8-223927-08-2 (Paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-223552-49-9 (e-Book)

Contents

Map West

Map East

12 Royal Matchmaking Competition Bachelorettes

1.Prince Zadkiel

Zadkiel's Portrait

2.Roses & Citrine

3.Big Mistake

4.The Royal Ball

5.The Perfect Princess

6.Attempted Apologies

7.Breakfast Party

8.Polo Match

9.Wine

Zendaya's Portrait

10.Flying Bird-Forks

11.Talent Show

12.Shoe Selection

13.The Night Bazaar

Esperanza's Portrait

14.Dancing on the River

15.Quoits

16.Pixie Wisdom

Pyper's Portrait

17.Pyper

18.How Many Kisses?

19.Magic Pumpkin Ride

Opale's Portrait

20.Influences of the Moon

21.Elven Powers

22.The Elven Council

Aaliya's Portrait

23.Charades

24.The Truth Revealed

25.Spies Among Us

Grace's Portrait

26.Testing the Waters

27.The Yondragon Castle

28.The Soldier

29.Earth Charms

30.Digging for Crystals

Leyla's Portrait

31.The Ghost of Clayton

32.The Archery Range

33.Magic Carpet Ride

34.Art Gallery

Makayla's Portriat

35.Knickers in the Pub

36.Rebels in the Land

37.Reflections

38.Dangers Lurking Below

Anezka's Portriat

39.The Diamond Mines

40.The Artist & Reporter

41.Strawberry Lips

Kaitlynn's Portrait

42.Surprise!

Royal Family Tree

Win Books

The Fate of the Empire

Bonus Scene

Princess Zoyechka

The Wizard Code Blurb

Sneak Peek

The Wizard Code

Acknowledgments

About Zoiy

Also By Zoiy

The RMC Series

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12 Royal Matchmaking Competition Bachelorettes

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Four Nobles of the Foreign Realms

1. Yola, Princess of Eldoren

2. Goldenya, Princess of Adonis Peak

3. Aaliya, Princess of Payonna Empire

4. Anezka, Duchess of Pixieland

Seven Nobles of the Velazian Empire

5. Grace, Princess of Tildon

6. Esperanza, Princess of Ogarz

7. Leyla, Duchess of Nololay

8. —

9. Pyper, Countess of Centaurus City

10. Opale, Countess of Moonstone City

11. Zendaya, Viscountess of Velazia

Winner of the Velazian Commoner Competition

12. Makayla, baker

Chapter 1

Prince Zadkiel

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Y ou look so fetching in blue, my mother said and set about fiddling with my collar, then straightening out my doublet, even though it had been pressed that very morning. You and Nikko are, without a doubt, the most handsome princes in the entire realm. Absolutely adorable.

‘Adorable’? I cleared my throat and now spoke to her in the deepest, throatiest voice possible. ‘Fetching’ is suitable. Perhaps even ‘dapper,’ but most certainly Nikko and I are not ‘adorable.’ After all, I’m almost nineteen. I’ve commanded ships and fought centaurs and I’m first in line to become the next Velazian Emperor. Girls can be ‘adorable,’ not grown men.

I second that, my younger brother, Nikko, said from across the room.

Oh, all right. She diverted her attention to inspecting my sleeves for lint . . . for the third time.

Oh, we all know you’re soft and sweet like candy on the inside. Saqoiya came in from behind and squeezed my waist in a tickle attack, making me jump and yelp.

Hey! Stop that. My hands went up in fighting mode.

I can’t believe I just yelped. I’m a warrior. A crown prince. And now my ego has been sufficiently deflated by the actions of a young maiden: my rascal of a sister.

Saqoiya chuckled and plopped on the sofa.

Oh dear, get off. Our mother quickly motioned for Saqoiya to get up. You’ll wrinkle your dress. She now began flattening my sister’s skirts and aligning her necklace.

The mother hen is at it again.

This is an important day for your brother. I just want everything to be perfect.

Everything is perfect, Mom, Saqoiya said. Don’t worry.

The Royal Matchmaking Competition might be a month-long event, but the opening ceremony provides an opportunity to make good first impressions to our foreign guests, my mother explained. This isn’t just about Zadkiel choosing a bride among the eleven most eligible bachelorettes in the realm in order to serve a two hundred year old treaty, it’s a chance to appease the cities in our empire, make alliances and negotiate trade with our foreign neighbors, all while—

Yes, yes. We know, Mom. Saqoiya huffed with her arms crossed. It wasn’t the first time our mother expounded upon the importance of this RMC, not only for my love life, but for the greater good of the Velazian Empire as well.

I pushed the list of eleven contestants that sat atop the solid oak buffet table to the side and dared not pick up their profiles again—eleven, because the city of Baylor wasn’t participating. Each city was allowed to nominate their own contestant. The first four girls were foreign noblewomen from the outlying queendom, kingdoms, and empire. Seven of the girls were noblewomen from the empire’s seven cities. The last contestant was a commoner from the capital, Velazia City, who had won the opportunity to participate during a contest held by the crown. In total, there were five princesses, two duchesses, two countesses, a viscountess, and a baker.

Already I had read their profiles too many times. After all, they were designed to impress me, but there was so much more to a human that cannot be properly described in so few words. And once the contestants did arrive, they would be on their best behavior. Simply put, I wanted to know the finer aspects about each girl, including their quirks and imperfections before I chose the one. Therefore, I had done a little research and asked about each girl with other nobles who had met them before, hoping to gather some juicy insights.

Princess Grace of Tildon is extraordinarily refined, regal, and intelligent, one woman from Tildon had told me. She has no imperfections. She’s perfect for you!

Have you heard about the Centaurian contestant commanding ships? Sir McKinley of Centaurus (our constable) had said. She’s the perfect leader. No need to look further for a wife.

The Nololay contestant is your perfect counterpart, my Nololay grandmother had said. If it wasn’t for the RMC, I would have arranged this marriage myself.

Alas, my questioning led me nowhere. Everyone was biased about the contestant from their own city. I would have to wait until the dates got underway to figure this out. My younger siblings had agreed to help and were pixieish enough in their ways to weed out the girls’ deeper, darker secrets too.

At the moment, my entire immediate family was gathered inside the purple drawing room, overlooking the front of the palace from the third floor—checking that their shoes were tied and every last hair was in place—before we headed to the opening ceremony. Or in my three youngest sibling’s case . . . pointing out the window at our noble guests as they arrived.

What if we don’t like the girl who Zadkiel chooses? The three conspired together. Can we frighten her into not marrying him?

On second thought . . . perhaps I shouldn’t involve them.

Don’t judge the girls based on their portrait or profile alone. My mother’s silky voice hummed from the side, drawing my attention to her.

I am trying not to, I said and shoved the contestants’ profiles inside of the buffet drawer.

Such was a mistake I had made in the beginning of my RMC, when I had predetermined that I’d marry Prince Edgar of Baylor. But, of course, my cruel mother had ingrained that absurd notion into my head. My mother pursed her lips.

But luckily—my father wrapped his arms around her, offering a kiss to her cheek—Qloey wizened up and chose me.

She chuckled as their noses rubbed against one another. Theirs was a relationship that I wanted to emulate with whomever I chose to marry. Love. Friendship. Political partnership. Spiritual soul mates. Surely I could find all of that with one of these eleven maidens.

Can you two get your own room? Saqoiya raised a single eyebrow at our parents.

"Oh, Saqoiya," my mother sang with a chortle, waving her off as her cheeks flushed.

I’ve been wondering, in the scenario that one of these girls refuses to sign the mutual rescission and leave . . . just as Edgar had done . . . My words trailed off. This competition was a matter of international relations, therefore, I had to eliminate contestants carefully, with official documents stating that they agreed to it. Prince Edgar had refused to sign the papers three times, and hadn’t given up until my parents were officially engaged. What if one of my contestants would become overzealous about winning the crown and caused trouble?

He was the first in RMC history to do so, my father said. It’s unlikely to happen again. But if it does, we’ll support you in whatever way we can, Zadkiel.

I appreciate that.

The grandfather clock on the wall slowly ticked along. Every second made me more anxious to leave this suffocating room and begin the process.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The closer it came to the top of the hour, the slower the hands moved.

I grabbed a string off the coffee table and began pulling my black, shoulder-length hair back.

What are you doing? Saqoiya rushed over and took the string from me. "Trust me . . . the girls will love to see your long hair down."

Oh, yes. Do keep it down, my mother agreed. "Your hair is . . . strapping." She finally used my own terminology, even though it didn’t quite work in this context.

I was outnumbered now, so I let my hair hang loose around my shoulders. Instead of fiddling with my hair, I decided to inspect my doublet and . . . really, anything to pass the time.

My attire today was made of royal blue velvet with slit sleeves that hung loosely down my arms. Occasionally, white fabric peeked out from underneath. Several military medals adorned my chest. Black leather boots reached up to my knees with matching trousers underneath, and a metal belt and scabbard hung loosely at my side. I wouldn’t dare go anywhere without my sword. In times like these, with so many guests, I had to keep an eye out for the safety of myself and others. Being the crown prince of the Seven Cities meant that everyone had an interest in me, whether it be to attain influence, wealth, my heart, or my life. Nevertheless, I was not a suspicious man, simply a well prepared one. I would, overall, rather trust my companions.

My garb was perfect, so I experimented by putting on a serious facial expression, like I was headed into battle. No, the angry look will turn the girls away. Instead, I lifted my eyebrows and revealed a cheesy smile, with all of my teeth showing. Now I look creepy. So I put on a neutral face. This expression was the most suitable of the three. Maybe a slight smile would suffice.

To finish it off, I placed my crown upon my head—with a jewel that represented each of our empire’s cities embedded on the gold rim: amethyst, diamond, ruby, emerald, aquamarine, rainbow moonstone, and citrine.

"By the way, have any of you heard the rumors about Baylor?" Saqoiya asked while inspecting her red nail polish.

This was the perfect distraction from my man-vanity, so I pulled myself away from the mirror.

A Baylorian contestant might show up today, Saqoiya said.

My mother’s eyes darkened, telling me she hadn’t heard.

Which is worse, I asked, and made my way toward the window, the city of Baylor boycotting the RMC, declaring their long-desired independence from the empire, or them sending a last-minute contestant, potentially taking the throne back through marriage?

My mother growled, liking neither option, one considerably less than the other. The latter will never happen. Rest assured.

I glanced outside. No carriage from Baylor was parked outside. Their carriages were easy to spot, with green and yellow flags that clashed with their red rubies. An ugly combination.

Because of our inimical relations, the Baylorian royalty originally planned to boycott the RMC. That action, however, only gladdened my mother’s heart. She happily accepted their withdraw by announcing the satisfying outcome to the press. Perhaps it was because we were gloating about their intended slight that Baylor had suddenly realized the importance of this occasion, and thereafter admitted Prince Edgar’s daughter into the RMC. In response, Empress Qloey sent a letter stating that, Because Edgar had tried to manipulate the previous RMC outcome, he won’t be allowed to attend with his family. His daughter sent her withdrawal letter stating that, If my father cannot attend, then Baylor will no longer recognize the RMC’s legitimacy. There was, however, no legal basis in this and we replied that we could still charge Edgar with treason for his actions years ago. They swiftly dropped their accusations. Since then, we’d been back to square one, with nobody from Baylor participating.

They have a right to be here, Saqoiya said nonchalantly.

It’s all hearsay. No respectable lady will show up unannounced. It’s time, everyone. My mother headed toward the door, yet her eyes remained downcast. I held compassion for the pain she carried from her past. But at some point, she would have to forgive, heal, and move on, instead of letting Baylor push her buttons so much.

The grandfather clock ticked on.

Tick. Tick.

It actually wasn’t time yet. We still had one hundred and forty-four seconds and several milliseconds remaining.

Did she expect me to stand idle for that long?

My father came to stand next to me. He looked directly at me through the window’s reflection and smiled comfortingly. It’s your big moment. Are you ready?

Side by side, it was easy to see how my half-human body differed from his; I had broader human shoulders and more muscular arms than his slender, elven frame. But it was also because I practiced sword fighting, archery, and other sports several hours every day that I had built a bulky physique. I had similarities to my father as well; my siblings and I inherited his glowing blue eyes, his height, and his pointy ears.

I’ve been impatient all day. I took a few deep breaths. But I also grow weary wondering what they are like in person.

Don’t worry, every single woman is feeling nervous about the ceremony, he said. Perhaps to an even greater extent than yourself, since they’re vying for your attention.

Did you feel nervous during your RMC’s opening ceremony?

He scratched his temple, going over the memories with a contorted expression on his face. My time was a little different. Another elf had put me under her charm and . . . really, I don’t remember much about the opening ceremony.

Oh, yes. I forgot. An elven woman had wanted to marry him to become queen of the elven city, Nololay, so she had put him under hypnosis. All right. I’m ready.

Truly, I was excited. I was ready to get married and build a family, to know a woman in full.

A trumpet sounded.

All of my family rushed to the door to line up.

Then a commotion could be heard at the entranceway outside. Instead of lining up, I glanced out the window to see dozens of guests heading inside the palace’s front entrance, but one particular attendee stood out among them all.

Several aristocrats surrounded a young woman in a brilliant red dress, all trying to get her attention at once. She then began to spin around, causing the hem of her gown to ripple like water.

A contestant.

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Chapter 2

Roses & Citrine

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The young maiden was a princess for certain. The jeweled tiara with red roses positioned around the rim gave it away.

Her hands gracefully danced in the air above her head, sending her many bracelets—made of yellow citrine—jingling as they fell down her arms. Small red rose pedals flew off her dress as she turned about, making me wonder if the fabric was made entirely from the flower. Or perhaps there was some fairy dust on her dress to cause the pedals to fly away in that manner. Else, I couldn’t see where they had come from.

Her fans oohed and aahed, then proceeded to clap.

The princess turned to face the door and I got a glimpse of her striking features. With creamy dark skin, large eyes, and luscious red lips, she was breathtaking. Nothing in comparison to her portrait. I was certain now that it was Princess Esperanza of Ogarz.

Yes, citrine was Ogarz’s royal gem.

My heart started singing a love ballad without my permission.

A thought came to me. What if I opened the window and began singing opera to her? Then I could climb down the vines and whisk her into my arms. Together, we could dance our way into the throne room instead of abiding by protocol.

I grinned.

Alas, it went against the RMC rules to woo my contestants in such a manner before the opening ceremony. I would have to reserve my romantic gestures toward her for the ball tonight.

Esperanza retreated into the palace and out of my sight.

Zadkiel, are you ready? My father beckoned me.

After seeing her, yes!

In three large steps, I was at my family’s side.

Remember, you will hardly have to talk at all. They’ll come bearing kind words and gifts with their families. Then we’ll be off to the reception. Easy as that. My dad squeezed my shoulder as if it offered more support. He then held out his arm to my mother, while I did the same for Saqoiya. Nikko, my only brother of sixteen years, always escorted my two youngest sisters, Zoella and Anna. Together, all of us turned to walk out of the room.

Sir McKinley was standing outside the door, waiting to escort our family to the throne room with an array of armed guards. He saw us and turned on his heel to lead the way. His light blue cloak fluttered behind him. A man who had been at my family’s side since before I was conceived; he was also my mother's RMC contestant.

Suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore. As if Esperanza’s simple appearance cured me of all ailments.

Worry not, my dearest, most prodigious brother. Saqoiya watched too many comedies at the Orb Theater and frequently thought it was fun to imitate their jocular language or make up her own. I shall protect thee from thine giggling gaggles of girls and sift out whom thou shalt marry, and whom thou shalt knock off thine marriageable list—she swiped her arm side to side as if sword fighting—and into thine dungeons.

While I appreciated her frivolity, I was filled with too many other thoughts and feelings to respond with an equal amount of foolishness. My mind was still on the princess. Her elegance. Her playfulness. Her—

Earth elves to Zadkiel. Are you there? Saqoiya waved a hand in front of my face. You’re not about to retch up you lunch, are you?

Absolutely not! I simply want to get the introductions over with and start dancing. After that, you can worry about slicing off the heads of the girls I don’t like.

But the opening ceremony will be so fun. Oh, I wish I could have my own RMC, she said, for the hundredth time this year. How fun would it be to have boys arriving from every city, bowing down at my feet, competing for my heart day in, day out, singing love ballads outside my bedroom window, fighting each other for my attention, taking off their tunics—

Saqoiya!

Okay, okay. But seriously. The opening ceremony will be as fun and exciting as the rest of the week. One glance at these princess brats, and I’ll be able to weed out the trolls from the true damsels— she cracked her knuckles—and find the best one for you.

Don’t scare them off, please. There was cause for concern that she would ruin my chances with the right one. Would my fiancée also have to get Saqoiya’s approval before she could safely sleep in this palace at night?

Saqoiya narrowed her eyes and strummed her fingers together with a sinister smirk, like an evil mastermind planning to take over the world. But the moment the trumpets went off again and the doors opened—revealing a packed throne room with hundreds of nobles from every city—Saqoiya’s elfish personality flew away like dust. Taking no notice of the noblewomen batting their eyelashes at Nikko and me, or of the men offering crooked smirks to Saqoiya, she put on her usual expression: her eyes glancing over the heads of the crowds, choosing to look at nothing in particular, probably the back wall. Her lips were pressed into a straight line, her eyebrows deepened, and her nose was slightly raised. Overall, it gave the impression (especially in her red and black dress) that she was a powerful tyrant who slept on a bed of sharp daggers every night to toughen up her skin. None were fortunate enough—except family behind closed doors—to see her true, silly personality.

My mother and father were on my left side on the dais, while my siblings were lined up in order of age to my right.

Several glass chandeliers lined the walkway from the entrance to our thrones and sparkled when the light hit them right, sometimes making rainbows appear on the floor below. Our white marble floors, which swirled with gold, were currently being covered by a long red carpet that stretched from the steps all the way to the exit.

Four guards used every muscle in their bodies to pull open two iron doors, revealing the antechamber where our contestants patiently waited. Many of the noble attendees stood on tiptoes, trying to get a view of the contestants and their family members the moment they would walk through the door.

The trumpets boomed through the room again. At last, the ceremony began. The first contestant and her family were announced.

Princess Yola, a water elf from the Eldoren Queendom, glided toward me, her every footstep so smooth, she appeared to be skating across a glassy surface. The beautifying elven charms took everyone’s breath away, as if she were an angel descending from heaven, and none of us dared to take our eyes off her lest we miss this rare and miraculous occasion.

Saqoiya elbowed me. Don’t fall head over heels yet. She’s just the first contestant.

I’m not head over heels.

You are ogling.

I am not.

Drooling a little. She pointed to the side of her lip.

This time I elbowed her.

Maybe I was staring a little, but how can I help it? Glamour charms are mesmerizing, hypnotizing. It’s not fair if the other girls can’t hide their flaws behind it. Although, once the glamour wore off, the individual’s true appearance would be revealed and the observer might find themselves highly disappointed. Glamour could make even a hideous ogre appear like a beautiful maiden. Therefore, I couldn’t trust my eyes when it came to this elven princess.

My thoughts on the matter came to an abrupt end when she reached the dais.

Your Majesty. Her smooth voice sang like a harp. "It is always a pleasure for my people to visit. And now that an elf sits on the throne, we hold much hope for the future of the human realms.

I bring you the gift of elven holy water, meant for healing at a time of great need, she said. While the Eldoren queen never sets foot on the mainland, you may . . . in time, come to know her. At the present moment, my mother offers this to you . . . She handed a servant a letter, who brought it—along with the holy water and a dragon-sized leather-bound textbook—up the stairs. "My family gifted Empress Qloey and Emperor Qinrel a wedding present two decades ago, meant for their firstborn child, Prince Zadkiel: The History of Laws Dating Back to Antiquity. As a gift to you, you now have volume two."

Splendid! Another dull fifteen-hundred-page textbook, nearly a foot wide (written in fine elven cursive, I might add), that my parents will force me to finish by the end of the year.

I blinked. My eyes already strained thinking about this taxing subject. What was that about Saqoiya finding the trolls from the true contestants?

Saqoiya nudged me.

Uh, . . . will there be a third volume—

Zadkiel. My mother gave me a warning side glance.

I cleared my throat. Thank you, Your Highness.

Perhaps I’ll use a magnifying glass to read it this time.

Yola and her younger brother stepped to the side, in a place specially marked for the contestants and their families.

The audience’s attention returned to the entrance once again.

How many pages is it? I whispered to Saqoiya.

Looks bigger than the last one.

I muttered curses under my breath.

The extended reigning royal family from the dwarven kingdom was announced next, along with their chosen contestant. Her Highness Princess Goldenya of Adonis Peak Kingdom.

My mother greeted her approach with a smile so massive it could blot out the sun. She rocked from one foot to another in anticipation, looking for her friend and former RMC contestant, Prince Hedgewood. The dwarven princess arrived with much of her large family, including the king and queen of Adonis Peak, several sisters and brothers, cousins, and Hedgewood’s wife, but no Hedgewood. A moment later, I watched as the light in my mother’s eyes died when she realized this.

My contestant, Princess Goldenya—over a foot and a half shorter than me—began by addressing my mother, which pulled me out of my daydreams. Your Imperial Majesty, Prince Hedgewood sends his regrets, but he could not make it.

He mentioned in his letters—my mother’s voice croaked, but held any tears in—he’d be arriving with you.

How could Hedgewood not show up after twenty years of not visiting us? He is a friend of my father as well, and he is my godfather, plus he said he would be attending . . .

His sincerest apologies. He offers this present in his place. Goldenya revealed a large sapphire ring and matching bracelet, but it failed to lift my mother’s spirits. Hedgewood was more important. My father squeezed my mother’s hand to comfort her.

After the first two introductions were complete, everyone in the room waited for the next contestant to be announced. After several moments went by, I looked at my father, as if he might know the reason for the delay, then back at the entranceway. I straightened my posture once again and resisted the aching desire to tap my foot.

Suddenly, a herald ran into the room, up the pathway, and kneeled before the empress’s feet.

Your Imperial Majesty, a contestant from Baylor just arrived, he said.

My mother’s teeth slowly gnashed together as she glared at the entranceway. This was a great opportunity for me to observe and learn how to handle situations like this in the future.

Never make a decision out of anger was our motto. I was still working on all that.

Rank?

Duchess Kaitlynn.

That meant she was Prince Edgar’s niece. Couldn’t they have sent someone of a more . . . distant relation? I had no doubt they intentionally wanted to push our buttons.

Even under her current strain, my mother took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and softened her face before she spoke. She is to be announced before the Countess of Centaurus.

The herald held on to the hilt of his sword so it wouldn’t get in the way as he ran out of the throne room to give the command.

The trumpets went off again. Another foreign contestant was next. Before she could enter, however, we heard an argument from outside of the throne room.

The trumpets deflated like a dying animal on its last breath.

The room turned silent.

My father and I exchanged glances again. A moment later, Kaitlynn, Duchess of Baylor, forced her way in, ahead of her superiors.

Chapter 3

Big Mistake

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Mistake number one: not sending a request to enter the RMC.

While each city could choose their own contestant, proper etiquette dictated that one must have approval before seeking an audience with the crown.

Mistake number two: marching in out of rank.

Kaitlynn of Baylor held her head high as she strutted forth with an unladylike swag in her step and a smirk on her face, like she was about to burn the place down. With very little jewelry (aside from a large ruby necklace nestled between her bosom, which was clearly meant to be a target for our wrath), her plain, navy blue dress was unimpressive for a duchess. Not even a simple ornate hairpiece or ring adorned her body, making me wonder if this occasion wasn’t of any importance to her. The only notable attribute was that her dark brown hair, which was held up in the back with a few curls falling down her bare shoulders in a stylistic way.

Her servants approached the throne alongside her, yet her parents were nowhere to be seen. This, in addition to having no invitation, veered on scandalous.

Your Royal Majesty, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. She curtsied without dropping her head and kept her eyes on my mother.

Mistake number three: referring to my mother as Your Royal Majesty.

That was my Velazian grandmother’s title. Every mention of her left my mother in a bitter mood. She adopted the title Your Imperial Majesty as a way to show her triumph and victories in life.

Mistake number four (which consequentially went along with mistake number three): not glancing down while curtsying to us.

HOW. DARE. YOU? my mother growled.

What? You’re not going to honor my arrival like you did all the others? Kaitlynn said with a curl of her lip.

Mistake number five: being too confident for her own good.

Guards. That was all an empress needed to say for a dozen of them to surround the arrogant duchess with spears at her throat. I will give you one chance, and one chance only, to return to the hall and wait until you’re announced before entering. And if you do not honor us with the correct titles, correct mannerisms, and obey my every command from here until you’re outside of the city walls, I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons for your insolence! And perhaps your family will bear the consequences as well, for sending you here in this improper manner.

Kaitlynn’s nostrils flared. Then she, and her small entourage of maids, curtsied (correctly this time), walked backward three steps (while looking down), then retreated back outside where they had come from.

My father put a hand on my mother’s shoulder. She took several deep breaths and clenched her fists while the blood boiling in her face started to return to its usual fair color.

Announce her last, I ordered the guard, trying to be of help.

But, Your Majesty, placing her after the commoner— The guard saw my stern expression and quickly changed course. Yes, Your Imperial Majesties. He bowed and left.

I am sorry. I took my mother’s hand and squeezed it.

No, I’m sorry for ruining your opening ceremony. My mother took one look at me, causing her entire face to soften.

You didn’t ruin it. She needed to be disciplined. But wait until you calm down before hastily throwing the entire Baylorian family in the dungeons. . . .Although, I know you’ve been waiting decades to do so.

She chuckled at my joke. But a small tear still formed in the corner of her eye. She intentionally did that, you know?

I have no doubt, I assured her.

The trumpets went off again, moving the ceremony along, and the Payonnian royal family entered.

Princess Aaliya of the Payonnian Empire had the most gorgeous smokey eyes that captured my attention from across the room. While my own eyes didn’t want to stray from her, my attention was quickly drawn to her emperor of a father walking beside her. His brows furrowed as he glared menacingly at me. Kaitlynn not only ruffled our feathers, she caused a chain reaction by disrespecting our foreign guests, people we desperately wanted to maintain positive relations with. While I didn’t know what had transpired in the antechamber, Kaitlynn could’ve been equally rude to them in the process of taking their turn. But before the Payonnian emperor could complain, I spoke up.

My apologies, Your Royal Majesties. I bowed; my siblings quickly followed suit. "The Baylorian duchess will make a formal apology to you before the ball begins, and for