Chapter One - Ella

It was an ordinary morning. Like every Tuesday, I had gone to class in the morning and then had lunch with my friend Gretchen. We’d been friends since we were children, but now that we were both studying law, we hardly had time to see each other. That semester, neither of us had afternoon classes on Tuesdays, so we’d started weekly lunches to catch up and take a break from studying.

That Tuesday was no different. We’d even had the same waitress we’d had the week before. The cafe and the streets were quiet, like usual. The only interesting news in town was that invitations to the Crown Prince’s Festival would be arriving at selected households, but I wasn’t at all interested in receiving one.

Gretchen was, though. She talked all through lunch about the invitations, the prince, and how exciting it would be to be chosen.

“You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know what he looks like, or what he’s like,” I said, chiding. Gretchen had always been a dreamer, impulsive and reckless. She was beautiful, too, beautiful and graceful and confident, even bold. She’d started kissing boys when she was twelve years old. Some of them were still in love with her, following her around Ladoria like lost puppies.

“He’s a prince, Ella. Does it matter?” Gretchen asked. She laughed and sipped her lemonade, looking at me like I was missing something important.

“Could you really marry someone if they were awful?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. Gretchen shook her head at me, eyes sparkling.

“Only if it would make me a royalty,” Gretchen said. “I’ve always wanted to be royalty.”

“You’re terrible,” I said, teasing.

“You’re really not at all interested? Everyone knows Prince Tristan is gorgeous,” Gretchen said, laughing again.

“No one actually knows that. Neither of us knows anyone who has actually seen him,” I pointed out.

“He’s gorgeous, and I bet he knows how to treat a girl right,” Gretchen said, winking and making me blush. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about princes or festivals or sex with Gretchen. She liked to tease me sometimes about being uptight and inexperienced. She didn’t know the thoughts I had, the images that raced through my mind, the conversations I’d been having with a strange man online. I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want anyone to know, even my best friend. I let her do most of the talking for the rest of lunch.

At home later that afternoon, I began my studying. I had four chapters to read and an outline to make before I would let myself take a break. I was hoping that the man I’d been talking to would be online during my break. Lately, I’d been using conversations with him as rewards to myself, treats to look forward to after long days of classes, studies, and helping my family. I wasn’t thinking of anything but him and the readings in front of me. Even with all of Gretchen’s talk, I had completely forgotten about the prince and his festival.

So when my mother ran into my bedroom with a large envelope and an excited look on her face, it took me a minute to figure out what was happening. Then I saw the corner of the envelope, with the glossy Ladoria royal seal in the corner, and my heart sank.

“Ella, you’ve been chosen!” my mother exclaimed, handing me the letter.

“Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say. My mother loved old customs and royalty. When I was young, she’d told me story after story about princes and princesses, about courtship and old fashioned romance. I did not want to disappoint her, but the festival hardly seemed romantic to me.

“Just think, you could marry the crown prince!” my mother said, clasping her hands excitedly. She looked wistful, and I felt uneasy in the pit of my stomach. When she was a little girl, her oldest sister, my Aunt Sophia, had been selected for a festival, the one for Prince Tristan’s father. Aunt Sophia always said the whole thing had been silly, but my mother had been jealous, wishing she could get dressed up for a chance to be selected by a prince.

“I will be one of many girls there,” I said, shaking my head. I did not want her to get her hopes up. Aunt Sophia had said that at her festival, she was one of fifty girls and that she’d never seen the prince at all. I was sure the room would be filled with girls like Gretchen, beautiful, confident, and worldly.

“I need to go make a special dinner to celebrate,” my mother said. She looked to be daydreaming, lost in her own romantic tale. I watched her go, shaking my head.

I pushed my studying aside, not sure I could focus on it after the news. I ran my fingers over the letter, wishing I could just stay home instead, not sure how to go through with the festival. It was not up to me, though. As I well knew from my law studies, and as the letter reminded me in tiny script at the bottom, all girls chosen must attend the festival or they and their families would be thrown in prison. It was an outdated law, but one no one had ever seen fit to change. I sighed and opened my laptop.

I had barely been online for a minute when he messaged me, and I smiled, in spite of everything. Since meeting on Facebook, Frederick and I had only talked over the computer. He did not even know my real name, but I felt closer to him than to anyone else I had ever known. I had told him things no one else knew, things I could not say out loud but that felt safe to type. I had never been with a man, but my mind was always filled with desires and fantasies. I’d told Frederick about them, every erotic detail, and he had listened. He did not judge me or make me feel silly or ashamed. Instead, he encouraged me. He was kind and clever and funny, and I was in love with him. It was another reason I was not interested in the prince’s festival. I was already in love with a man. How could I take the chance, no matter how small, of marrying another?

I just got big news, I typed, looking back at the letter on my desk.

What is it? he replied. I knew it was ridiculous, but seeing the familiar small navy blue font he used in the messenger made me feel a little better.

I’ve been selected for the Crown Prince’s Festival, I said. From the kitchen, I could hear my mother humming to herself, one of those old love songs she liked so much.

Really? he replied.

Really. I wish I hadn’t been. I don’t want to go, but it’s the law, I said, glad I could tell someone how I really felt about it, sure that my mother, my family, and my friends would not really understand.

I’m sure you’ll be the sexiest, the most beautiful, and the most fascinating girl there, he replied, making me blush. I shook my head. He didn’t even know what I looked like. My entire profile was fake. He knew so much but so little about me. It was probably part of why I felt so safe around him.

I’ll just be happy when it’s over, I said. It was just a day, I thought. One day, and then I could go back to my normal life, my studies, my family, and Frederick.

Maybe something good will come of it, he said. I smiled. Frederick always made me smile.

Maybe. Tell me about your day? I said, changing the subject. I told myself if I pushed it out of my head, I wouldn't feel so sick and nervous. I couldn’t shake it, though, and no matter how much Frederick made me laugh and blush, I couldn’t get the festival out of my head.