“You need to tell me everything that happened,” she gushed, and her enthusiasm got the better of me, making me grin in response. “What happened with the Prince?”
“We just talked for a while,” I told her in hushed tones.
“You’re definitely not going home tonight,” she groaned, and I silently agreed with her, though the quiet fear that Olivier might be forced to get rid of me still made my stomach tie up in knots. “But I might go. He didn’t like me that much. God, why do I have to be so boring?”
“You’re not boring,” I told her firmly. “And if Olivier can’t see that, he’s a fool.”
She giggled, giving me an astonished look and saying, “Boy, you really don’t mince your words.”
“What’s the point?” I shrugged. “I am who I am. It’s better he finds that out now than down the lane. And if he still likes me, good. If he doesn’t, he never deserved me anyway.”
Zara looked at me with newfound respect, nodding furiously when we were interrupted by the sound of light instrumental music. The elimination process was beginning.
Self-consciously, I touched my fingers to the collar around my throat, feeling the empty spots where jewels would be added if I made it long enough through the competition.
I hoped Olivier believed in our connection enough to keep me around.
All of us gathered in the hall, with the thirteen of us girls standing in the center.
He stood at the right end of the banquet hall. There was a small table next to him with a metal tray, filled with rose quartz stones that I assumed would be placed in the chosen girls’ collars.
Everything would be decided in the next few minutes, and my heart hammered in my chest. I was fairly certain he would pick me, but doubt was getting the better of me. What if he’d changed his mind? Zara had told me he’d spoken to Freya earlier. Would he pick her over me?
Olivier took a deep breath and called out the first name while my fingernails dug into the palms of my hands, eliciting a gasp of pain.
“Amber.”
A smile lit up my face and I stepped forward while the crowd muttered. My heart had slowed down, and now a triumphant glow warmed me right from the inside. He’d picked me! I thought to myself ecstatically. Me, the Westminster nobody, over all the other girls. I walked right up to him, holding my head high.
“Will you let me place this stone in your collar, Amber?” he asked in that deep gravelly voice.
“Of course,” I whispered.
He grinned at me as he took one of the stones, gently touching my neck while he placed the stone in its spot. I was shivering, trembling on the edge as his fingers brushed my skin.
My panties were wet, and I craved for him to do so much more than just touch my neck. I wanted him to grab me, kiss me in front of all those people. But at the same time, I understood why he couldn’t do that. He was the crown prince, after all.
Something passed between us while we were standing up there, barely detectible yet obvious to every single person in that ballroom. I could feel waves of displeasure coming from his mother, who was standing a little off to the side. The rest of the crowd seemed as enchanted as I was.
He showed me to the side and I hung my head, unable to hold his gaze for another second as I moved to stand with the queen. I could feel her eyes, staring at me with a burning intensity. She didn’t like me one bit, it was obvious now. I would try to convince her I wasn’t some floozy out to get her son, but I had a feeling I’d have to do a lot of convincing.
I turned my attention back to the other girls while Olivier called out another name.
“Freya.”
Jealousy bubbled in the pit of my stomach as the willowy blonde stepped forward, shooting me a triumphant glance. I hate her, I thought. I watched Olivier placing the rose quartz on her collar and tried to remain as calm as possible, but my stomach was twisted into knots with anger. When Freya was done, she came to stand next to me, purposefully bumping her shoulder into mine.
The next girl he called forward was Camilla, a young Italian girl I’d only exchanged a few words with. Two cousins followed, French girls whom I knew as the daughters of a lord. Then Monica, a gorgeous model, Violetta, a Spanish beauty, and Kendy, a stunning African beauty who carried herself with dignity none of the others had.
My eyes connected with Zara’s from across the room. I could tell she was nervous, and I offered her a reassuring smile. I hoped she’d be chosen. I’d already grown fond of her.
Olivier picked Safiya next. I’d spoken to Safiya a little, and learned she was a scholar who was intrigued by mysteries and art. After her, he picked Eva, a girl with similar hair to mine, red as a flame.
Now, only three girls remained. The tension in the room was palpable.
One was Asya, a stunningly beautiful Turkish princess who wore a sad expression every time I looked at her, but it didn’t deter from her breathtaking beauty.
The next was Stephanie, the girl the Queen had wanted Olivier to meet. It was a wonder he hadn’t called her yet. She was very obviously the Queen’s favorite, and he was pretty much forced to move her on to the next stage of the competition or risk upsetting his mother.
And then of course, Zara, whom I wanted to move forward most of all.
“Asya,” Olivier said, and the Turkish girl stepped forward, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
It was the first time I’d seen her smile, and I realized just how much competition she would be. She was beautiful when she was sad, but when she smiled, her eyes lit up like nothing else. Olivier seemed to notice it too and whispered something in her ear as he placed the stone on her collar. She giggled, and jealousy twisted a knife in my stomach. My nerves were getting the better of me. I was starting to doubt not only Olivier’s affection for me, but my own confidence.
Maybe this whole selection was a mistake, I thought, panicking. Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all. I obviously don’t belong here.
With only two girls left, my nails dug into my palms again. Zara was surely going home. There was no way Olivier would pick her over his mother’s favorite. But when I glanced at the queen, I noticed how nervous she seemed, biting her lower lip and glancing between Stephanie and her son.
“Zara.”
The word rang out in the room, followed by the gasps and whispers of the people there as my friend triumphantly stepped forward. She accepted Olivier’s stone gracefully and came to stand next to me with bright eyes and a big grin on her face. I squeezed her hand, and we both looked at the scene unfolding before our eyes.
Big, fat tears were sliding down Stephanie’s face as Olivier said his goodbyes. He said something we couldn’t hear, and she nodded, hiccupping as the tears came in even harder.
The queen’s mouth was set in a thin line, and she rushed to Stephanie, pushing her son out of her way as she leaned down to say something to the girl.
But it was over. Olivier had made his decision, and he’d sent the girl his mother liked most home.
He turned around to face the rest of us, looking right at me. I couldn’t help the smile on my face, and my expression was mirrored in his. Twelve girls left to beat…
Chapter Six
Olivier
After the elimination ceremony, I was more than ready to go to bed. I didn’t have the energy to deal with my mother, knowing she would dispute my decision about sending Stephanie home. But what else was there for me to do? If I hadn’t sent Stephanie home, I’d risk upsetting Amber. But more importantly than that, I needed to stay true to myself, and I knew Stephanie was never meant for me.