“Win this thing?” I asked, shooting a look at Marsha who only shrugged. “Win what?”

Zara fluffed her skirts with an impatient huff. “You know, the big prize. The position above all other positions.” When I still only stared at her she let out a haughty laugh. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

I shook my head and shrugged again. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I didn’t like it.

“This,” Zara circled her finger around the limo, “is all a ruse to pick new people to live in their palace. To live there as servants, or as more pleasurable company.” The last part she said with a sultry tone and winked in Marsha’s direction. He shifted next to me and blushed.

“How do you know all this?” I asked leaning slightly forward in my seat. “I thought no one knew about the party.”

Zara lifted a shoulder as she eyeballed her nails. “I’m not just anyone. My father is the mayor of this little hovel and I’m privy to all sorts of information. Like, how I know you, Clarabelle,” she sneered, too happy with herself about knowing my name, “aren’t from here.”

“So?” I cocked a brow at her.

“So,” she drew out, “you shouldn’t have been invited. There must have been some kind of mistake. It was Julianna’s turn. I know it. I saw the list.”

“The list?” Marsha and I asked at the same time and then exchanged a confused look.

Zara leaned back in her seat, her hands clasped in her front her gleefully. “Oh, you didn’t know about the list?” she didn’t wait for us to answer before she continued. “You thought the invitation was sent out at random, do you? Not so.” She waved a finger in front of her. “My father sends a list of eligible candidates to the Core and they send out the invitation from that list. And your name,” she pointed a finger at me, “wasn’t on it. I saw it.”

My lips curled down in confusion. If my name wasn’t on the list then how did I get an invitation? If I shouldn’t here, then why was I? Someone must have added my name but the question was who? And why?

“But it doesn’t matter anyway,” Zara cooed as the limo came to a stop once more.

“And why is that?” I asked, but was interrupted by the window in the front as it began to descend.

Malcolm’s smiling face appeared, his large white teeth gleaming. “We’re here!”

Everyone turned to peer out the darkened windows, our eyes straining to see beyond the small frame. There wasn’t much there to see; tall pillars rose up supporting the roof of the majestic covered entrance. People—likely servants in their pristine matching dark gray outfits—stood in two straight lines stopping just a few feet from the limo. When the door opened on Marsha’s side I peered over his shoulders at a blood-red carpet running between the two lines of people.

Marsha unsnapped his seat belt quick as can be and hopped out of the car door. I struggled with mine for a moment before I finally got it off. Tillie exited before me, but as I tried to leave Zara pulled me back, her nails biting into my arm.

“Remember you aren’t supposed to be here, so don’t get any ideas. I’m still going to be winning this thing,” she snarled at me, her eyes flashing.

I jerked my arm away from her with a condescending smile. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” Her face lit up in surprise but I didn’t wait to hear what else she had to say.

I stepped out of the car, and my booted foot sank into the plush red carpet as my eyes widened. This close to the castle, the building was a lot bigger than it seemed. The place had to be twenty or thirty feet high, and there were so many windows I wondered if I would be able to see my house in the Glade from one of them.

As I gaped at the palace Zara shoved into my side pushing me into one of the servants. The woman I fell into could have been my mother, with her dark hair streaked white and equally dark eyes. The small smile on her face as she helped me back to my feet caught me off guard. There was something about her, something which made me want to trust her with all my darkest secrets.

“Thank you, Venna,” Malcolm came up from behind and placed a hand on my shoulder making my back stiffen. His arrival caused Venna’s smile to fall and her eyes to hit the floor. I wanted to stay and talk to her, to find out what all this was, but Malcolm was steering me away from her and the procession of servants.

He led me into the palace at a quick pace, not allowing me to linger to take in the wonder around me. I tried my best to keep up with him, his long legs giving him the advantage over my five-foot-six frame. When we finally stopped before a door, I realized none of the other people I had arrived with were in sight.

“Where’d everyone else go?” I asked peering into the room before me.

“Do not worry, you will see them later.” Malcolm smiled that over-exaggerated smile of his and then for a moment his face darkened. “Now, I’m only going to tell you once. Do not mingle with the help. They have a job to do and they can’t help you.”

“Help me?” I frowned. “If it hadn’t been for Venna I would have fallen flat on my face. I think they helped me plenty already.”

Malcolm made a sound which could have been a laugh but I couldn’t be sure. “Oh, you are going to be a fun one, I can already tell.” Then his sparkling smile came back into place and he gave me a little shove. “Now, go get ready and remember what I said, or you’ll be sorry.”

I turned to glare at him for pushing me but he was already gone. My eyes searched down the hallway we had come down but couldn’t find any clue as to where he could have gone. Shrugging, I spun back around to the room waiting for me.

Twice the size of the room I had back at my stepmother’s home, it could hold my entire house in the Glade inside it. The bed was far bigger than I could ever need and the wardrobe probably held clothes I would never imagine wearing. I walked across the room and picked up a strange cylinder-shaped brush. Just as I wondered what it was for a chorus of squeals erupted from behind me.

Spinning around, my eyes grew larger at the three women coming toward me. Dressed in black from head to toe, from sexy barely there slip-of-a-dress to prim-and-proper, they each had their own style. They crowded around me all talking at once as they rattled off the different attributes of my appearance they adored. From my long untouched hair to my perfectly sized breasts, there was nothing about me too private to discuss.

My head was spinning as they turned me this way and that until a series of snaps filled the air. The women withdrew from me and, like moths to a flame, floated across the room to where a man stood.

Also, cased in black, his pale skin stood out against the collar of his shirt. His eyes were a strange orange shade, which seemed to call me to them. Lips quirked up into a smirk, he reached for the women as they seemed to drape themselves over him.

“You must be Clarabelle.” His voice—like soft silk against my skin—touched my ears. The women sighed in unison as if hearing him speak were a gift of itself.

I’d never been one for pretty men, or ones who had such a pull on those around them. I didn’t have time for them—or rather, most of them didn’t have time for me. Back in the Glade most of us were too worried about surviving to think about finding love. Though of course, eventually we found it one way or another, or we’d have died out. Nevertheless, now was not the time to be thinking of pretty men; not with what’s at stake.

“Yes.” I nodded but then added for good measure, “but it’s Clara actually.”

His eyes widened slightly but his smirk never wavered as he shook his adorers off and strode toward me. “So, Clara,” he started circling me like a vulture, “you are a lot prettier than I thought you would be.”

“Uh, thanks,” I answered, not sure where his thoughts were going. Compared to my stepsisters, I wasn’t that much more than plain but I supposed I did have a sort of prettiness to me. My father often said I look like my mother when she had been my age. I'd always thought my mother was beautiful, but I’d never thought of myself in that way.

“But I do have to say I am disappointed in your choice in wardrobe.” He plucked at the sleeves of my shirt, making the women giggle.

“I wasn’t told there was a dress code.” I shrugged as watched him out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh, there’s not,” he reassured me. “But most of the guests tend to arrive in more...” he waved his hand in the air around my outfit and then sighed, “...just more.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I growled, tired of being surveyed like a cow for breeding. “I’m sorry but you haven’t told me who you are? Any of you.” I glanced around him to the trio waiting by the door.

The man seemed positively embarrassed at my question. Something I doubt he felt often.

“I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.” He bowed slightly with a long flourish of his arms. “My name is Asher and I will be your guide—so to speak—for the duration of your stay.”

“Guide?” My brows furrowed. “What do I need a guide for? It’s just a party.” Except it wasn’t just a party. Zara had told me as much but I still couldn’t get it out of my head that I’d just go to this thing and be home by the time my father returned. A foolish notion for sure.

“Oh no,” one of the women—the one in the slinky dress—came forward with a shake of her head, “It’s not just a party. First, there’s the first impression, then-”

“Then there’s the interview.” Another one of the women, who wore a daring pantsuit with a low neck, stepped in.

“And then finally, the party itself where you will be selected for your position,” the last women with a high collared dress added.

“And I will be there to help you every step of the way,” Asher finished with a wink.

“As well as your,” I gestured my head toward the women, “Groupies?”

That had been the wrong thing to say. The three women’s face contorted in anger and they started toward me before Asher held a hand up, stopping them in their tracks.

“Now, you are new here, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt, but these women are not groupies. They are my companions and closest confidants and I won’t have you offending them again, are we clear?” Asher asked a bit of a bite to his tone.

“Of course,” I nodded and then looked at the women. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

They seemed to simmer down at my apology and then Asher came up to me, taking me by the shoulders. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get you ready to be presented.”

The way he said it—with a gleam in his eye—made me wish I was back home, cleaning the stables. Anywhere but here with this madman and his wild ideas of fashion.