Chapter 6: From the Village to the Palace

Everleigh stood on the platform, her chest tight, hands folded neatly before her, the adrenaline from stepping forward still thrumming through her veins. Every detail of the square was sharp in her mind—the cobblestones beneath the feet of villagers, the whispering of anxious families, the flickering sunlight on the worn rooftops.

The masked man remained at the edge of the platform, his eyes fixed on her. She could feel the weight of his gaze, steady and unwavering, even as the elder raised his voice to speak once more.

“Today, we have witnessed the selection of those who will carry our hopes and our legacies into the future,” the elder began, his tone formal, resonant, commanding attention. “Each girl chosen has shown promise, courage, and a strength of character that will serve her well in the trials ahead. Remember, this day is only the first step. What lies ahead is not merely the learning of etiquette, scholarship, and arts, but the understanding of what it means to be a princess—not born, but made.”

Everleigh swallowed hard, keeping her hands steady despite the trembling in her stomach. The words carried weight, the kind that lingered long after they were spoken, embedding themselves in the heart. She felt the eyes of the villagers upon her, the hopes and fears of her family pressing on her like a tangible weight.

The elder paused, scanning the gathered crowd, letting the silence stretch. Every step of his speech seemed measured, deliberate, each syllable a reminder of the gravity of the moment.

“And so,” he continued, his gaze falling on the girls standing on the platform, including Everleigh herself, “I charge you to carry yourselves with dignity, to learn with humility, and to walk the path before you with courage. For tomorrow begins a journey not of your choosing, but of your making. Go forward, and let the light of your character shine, for it is that light which will guide you through the trials of the palace, the selection, and the responsibilities that await.”

A hush fell over the square. Mothers dabbed at the corners of their eyes, daughters clutched hands tighter, and fathers straightened their posture as if to impart courage through proximity alone. Everleigh felt the shiver of anticipation along her spine, a mixture of fear and excitement twisting in her chest.

The elder’s hand lifted in a final gesture, and a few guards stepped forward. “The chosen girls will now be escorted to the carriage that will take you to the palace. Prepare yourselves for the journey ahead, for it is there that your true test begins.”

Everleigh’s pulse hammered in her ears as she descended the steps, each movement slow and deliberate. The crowd parted to let the guards lead the girls forward. The cobblestones were uneven beneath her feet, yet she moved with purpose, holding herself as the elder had instructed.

The masked man had retreated slightly, watching as the girls were ushered forward. Everleigh caught his gaze one last time before stepping into the space where the carriages waited. His eyes seemed to follow her, unyielding, almost as though he knew the journey she was about to take and intended to ensure she survived it—or perhaps to judge whether she could.

Carriages stood in neat rows, black and polished, drawn by sleek horses whose hooves clattered against the stone streets. Guards held the reins firmly, their eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilant precision. Each carriage was prepared for two girls, a simple interior of cushioned benches and a small window to look out at the passing countryside.

Everleigh climbed carefully into her assigned carriage, adjusting her dress to sit properly as the guard nodded respectfully and closed the door behind her. She sank into the seat, her hands folded in her lap, feeling the softness of the cushions beneath her. Her heart still raced, the reality of leaving the village pressing down with the weight of inevitability.

The carriage began to move, rolling smoothly through the narrow streets. Villagers pressed close to the edges of the road, waving and murmuring farewells. Everleigh spotted familiar faces—her mother, her father, neighbors who had watched her grow—but the sight only made the distance she was traveling more real.

Beside her sat another girl chosen from the village. She was quiet, her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes wide with apprehension. Everleigh offered a small smile, though it barely reached the other girl’s distant gaze. The two of them were united by circumstance, yet already separated by the invisible weight of fear and expectation.

Outside the carriage, the village fell away, replaced by winding roads flanked by forests and fields. The sunlight glinted through the leaves, dappling the path ahead. Everleigh’s thoughts drifted to Rowan, wishing fiercely that he had been there to walk beside her, to offer the grounding presence she craved.

Instead, there was only the hum of the carriage wheels and the faint whisper of the wind through the open window.

She glanced once more at the masked man, now standing beside the lead carriage, his posture rigid, his gaze still fixed on her. He made no move to speak, no gesture to indicate recognition beyond the steady, almost predatory watchfulness of his eyes. Everleigh’s pulse quickened, and she turned away quickly, forcing herself to focus on the journey ahead.

The road stretched onward, twisting and rising, carrying the girls further from their homes and closer to the palace. Everleigh pressed her hands together, silently promising herself that she would not falter, that she would endure whatever awaited her.

She thought of the elder’s words—your light will guide you through the trials of the palace. She had no idea what trials awaited, but she clung to the idea as a lifeline. The palace was no longer a distant concept; it was real, looming at the horizon of her future, a place of grandeur and expectation, danger and opportunity.

The carriage slowed as it approached the gates of the palace. Towers rose into the sky, banners snapping in the breeze, and guards lined the entrance with meticulous precision. The sunlight glinted off polished armor and gilded details, reflecting the wealth and power housed within. Everleigh’s stomach twisted, a mixture of awe and apprehension, as the carriage rolled toward its destination.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, brushing the hem of her dress. She thought of the masked man again, lingering in her mind like a shadow she could not shake. Who was he? What did he want? And why did it feel as though he had been watching her for longer than this morning, as though he knew more about her than anyone should?

The carriage came to a halt just inside the gates. Guards opened the doors and stepped aside, bowing with practiced precision. Everleigh took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She stepped down carefully, adjusting her dress once more. The other girl from her village followed silently, casting a nervous glance toward Everleigh.

The grand entrance hall of the palace stretched before them, marble floors gleaming beneath towering pillars, light streaming through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished surfaces. The air was filled with the faint scent of incense, mingling with the earthy aroma of horses outside.

Everleigh took a tentative step forward, feeling the weight of expectation settle firmly on her shoulders. This was only the beginning—the first step of a journey that would test her in ways she could not yet imagine. And all the while, in the back of her mind, the memory of the masked man lingered, an unshakable reminder that some observers saw more than they let on.

She glanced once more at the doors through which they had entered, wondering if the world outside still existed or if it had been left behind forever. She could hear the faint shuffle of servants and attendants moving through the corridors, the murmur of voices speaking in languages she had never learned, and the distant clang of metal as doors closed with measured authority.

Everleigh drew in a steadying breath. The palace awaited. The selection awaited. The trials awaited. And she would meet them all, one step at a time.