Chapter 5

Jessica’s POV


I stirred awake, the soft scent of rosewater and linen reminding me that I wasn’t in my bed. Molly’s room. Slowly, reality began to press down on me, and yesterday’s events came rushing back like a violent tide. My chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, I’d hoped it had all been a dream — but no, it was real. What was meant to be a day of celebration had ended in shambles, and the bitterness of it sat heavy in my throat.


“Good morning, Jess,” Molly’s voice rang out far too brightly for my mood. She stood by the window, already dressed, with sunlight crowning her like a halo. She was always a morning person — today, I could not match her energy.


I shot her a look, one that clearly said *there’s nothing good about this morning*, but I still responded, if only out of courtesy. “Good morning. What time is it?” I asked, yawning with the weariness of a broken heart.


“Seven-fifteen,” she said casually.


That’s when panic struck.


“Oh no, I’m late!” I jumped from her bed, the sheets tangling around my ankles. “Madam Silvia is going to skin me alive.”


“You have to—” Molly started, but I didn’t let her finish.


“I have to go. Talk later!” I called over my shoulder, already sprinting out the door.


I dashed through the winding halls of the palace, the cool marble floor cold against my hurried steps. By the time I reached the maids’ quarters, Andy was nowhere in sight. My room was quiet, undisturbed. I threw off my clothes, bathed in record time, dressed, and bolted to the servants’ hall — breathless and disheveled.


Madam Silvia was already addressing the maids, her voice sharp and commanding. The moment I stepped in, all heads turned. I froze.


“I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, Jessica,” she said, her tone deceptively calm.


I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Madam. I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”


Her narrowed eyes scanned me for a moment. “I’m letting you off with a warning — just this once. But if it happens again, expect to do double your duties. Do I make myself clear?”


“Yes, Madam. Thank you, Madam,” I said quickly, bowing slightly in relief. Thank heavens she was in a merciful mood. Madam Silvia was a woman of sharp contrasts — iron-fisted but occasionally kind. The secret to surviving under her rule was to never make it to her bad side.


“As I was saying,” she continued, “the twenty guest rooms are to be fully prepared before the day after tomorrow. The selection begins in two days, by royal command. Each of you has been assigned to one of the rooms — and to a guest.”


I raised my hand. I hadn’t received any assignment.


“Jessica, you’ve been assigned to the Prince,” she said.


My heart skipped. “Oh… okay, Madam,” I replied, forcing a small smile.


Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure I could bear tending to one of the noble girls, most of whom would spend every waking second fawning over Christian. The idea alone made me queasy. From the corner of my eye, I saw Erica throw me a glare of pure venom.


She raised her hand. “Madam, I thought the Prince usually has three maids assigned to him. Why is Jessica the only one? I mean… I could volunteer to assist His Highness,” she added with faux innocence.


I rolled my eyes. The act was as thin as parchment.


“Erica,” Madam Silvia snapped, “the Prince himself requested Jessica — and only Jessica. If you have concerns, you’re welcome to take them up with him personally.”


Andy, standing nearby, struggled to suppress her laughter. Erica’s face burned with embarrassment, and she wisely said nothing further.


“I want you all at your tasks immediately,” Madam Silvia commanded. “No errors.”


“Yes, Madam,” we chorused in unison.


“You’re dismissed.”


As we filed out of the hall, Andy scurried up beside me, her laughter bubbling out at last.


“Oh my goodness, Jess! Did you *see* Erica’s face? She looked like she swallowed a lemon.”


“She was embarrassed. But stop, Andy — don’t call her a jealous freak,” I said, trying not to smile.


“Okay, okay. See you later!” she sang as she skipped away.


I turned down the corridor toward Christian’s chambers, anxiety curling in my belly. I hadn’t seen him since last night, and I needed to know how he was holding up. But just as I raised my hand to knock—


“Jessica!”


I turned. It was Kaden, one of the palace guards — young, sharp-jawed, and disarmingly charming.


“Yes?” I asked.


“I’ve been looking for you. King Henry has summoned you. You’re to report to his office right away,” he said, slightly breathless.


“Oh… okay. Thank you.” My voice was soft, uncertain.


As Kaden strode off, I turned back, the weight of worry pulling at me. Why would the King want to see *me*?


*Please don’t let this be about the selection,* I whispered to myself, crossing my fingers.


The King’s office loomed ahead. A guard at the door knocked once and opened it for me. I stepped inside, bowing immediately.


“Good morning, Your Majesty. Your Highness.”


“You may sit, Jessica,” King Henry said, his voice composed yet unreadable.


I sat, my hands trembling slightly in my lap.


“I’ve called you here to give you a very important task.”


My heart skipped.


“What task, Your Majesty?”


“We want you to convince Christian to participate wholeheartedly in the selection,” he said plainly.


My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened before I quickly lowered them. Of all people… why me? I didn’t even *want* him to do it.


“Your Majesty, I don’t know if I can convince him,” I murmured.


“You and my son have been friends since childhood,” Queen Annabelle said coolly, her gaze slicing through me. “He listens to you. Do not let him step into this office unless he’s agreed to the selection. Otherwise, you will be punished.”


I swallowed the lump in my throat. She’d never done anything cruel to me, but there was no denying the disdain she often wore when I was near. Still, her words left no room for negotiation.


“Yes, Your Highness. I will do as you say.”


“You may go.”


I stood, bowed, and exited quickly.


Once outside, I exhaled deeply. *God, help me.* I walked the familiar path to Christian’s door and knocked softly.


“Come in,” came his voice, quiet and slightly hoarse.


I opened the door to find him still in bed, his golden hair tousled, face pressed into the pillow like he hadn’t slept well.


“You’re finally here. What took you so long?” he mumbled, his eyes flicking toward me.


“I’m barely five minutes late,” I replied, walking to his bedside.


Before I could say more, he reached out, pulled me onto the bed, and wrapped his arms tightly around me, nestling his head against my shoulder.


“Yeah… this feels nice,” he murmured, a small smile touching his lips.


“Christian, you need to get up. You can’t stay in bed all day,” I said, though I didn’t resist his hold.


“Let’s just stay like this… for a while,” he murmured again.


I let him. We’d done this many times as children — sleepovers that ended with tangled limbs and whispered dreams. I ran my fingers through his hair, a soothing rhythm he’d always loved.


For a long moment, we said nothing.


Then he whispered, voice thick with frustration, “I don’t want to do it, Jess. This selection is ridiculous.”


My heart ached. I wanted to agree, to tell him to run from it all. But Queen Annabelle’s threat loomed like a storm cloud over my head.


“Christian… you can’t back out. It’s tradition. You knew that once you turned twenty-one, you’d be expected to choose a future princess.”


He looked away, his voice low. “It’s not my fault I haven’t found love.”


I stared at him, willing him to *see* me. To realize that love had been right beside him all along.


“What am I supposed to do? What if I don’t love any of them? Am I supposed to marry a stranger? Force a future on someone I barely know? I won’t do that to anyone, Jess. I’m not selfish.”


He held me tighter, as if I were the only real thing he had.


Then, an idea bloomed in my mind — a way to give him power without defiance. A middle ground.


“Make a deal,” I said suddenly.


“A deal?”


“Yes. Tell them you’ll follow tradition — but only if they agree to some of *your* terms.”


His eyes lit up, curiosity replacing fatigue. I explained, every detail spilling out in a rush. And as he listened, the heaviness in his posture began to lift.


When I finished, he leapt from bed and darted toward the bathroom.


“Where are you going?” I laughed softly.


“To get dressed. I’ve got conditions to make,” he said with renewed energy.


And just like that, a flicker of hope sparked in the shadows.