Chapter Three: The Rabbit They Laughed At

LUCY'S POV

The first thing I learned about the royal palace was that even the gates were designed to make ordinary people feel small.

They rose above us like the entrance to another world, black iron twisted into the shapes of dragons with their wings spread wide. Golden flames burned in stone bowls on either side, throwing restless light across the faces of the women crowded beneath them. Beyond the gates stood a palace so enormous that I couldn't tell where one tower ended and another began. Spires climbed over spires. Banners the colour of dried blood stirred against a pale sky.

Beautiful,terrifying and absolutely not a place I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

"Move, rabbit."

Someone shoved my shoulder.

I stumbled forward, catching myself before my knees struck the stones. A girl in a pale blue gown swept past me in a cloud of rose perfume, her blonde hair arranged in curls so perfect they looked sculpted.

She glanced back over her shoulder, her smile thin and bright.

"Try not to embarrass yourself before we even enter."

I swallowed the reply burning on my tongue.

I needed the reward money. I needed Molly to be safe. I couldn't afford to start a fight with a girl who probably wore more money in her jewellery than my family had earned in ten years. So I tightened my grip on my bag, lifted my chin, and kept walking.

The courtyard was crowded with women dressed in silk, velvet, and gowns that shimmered like spilled water. Some had wings folded neatly against their backs, feathers glossy as polished metal. Others displayed elegant horns, iridescent scales, or tails that swayed with practiced grace. They moved like women who had been born knowing exactly where the light would fall.

Then there was me.

A secondhand cream dress, mended twice at the hem. Worn shoes. Rabbit ears that twitched whenever someone laughed too loudly, no matter how hard I tried to keep them still.

I could practically hear the judgment settling over me like dust.

"Is that really a contestant?"

"Look at her dress."

"Does she think the prince is choosing a pet?"

Laughter followed me as I found an empty place among the other women, and my ears flattened against my head before I could stop them. I folded my hands in front of me so no one would see them shake.

I stared at the great palace doors and reminded myself why I had come.

Molly.

Everything was for Molly.

A trumpet sounded, bright and commanding.

Every conversation died at once.

The doors swung open, and the royal family entered the hall.

The queen walked first, dressed in black and gold, her crown glittering beneath the chandeliers like frozen fire. Her face was beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful: polished, expensive, and made to hurt someone.

Then I saw him.

The man from the bedroom.

My breath caught in my throat.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Those strange golden eyes.

For one impossible second, I forgot where I was. The hall, the crowd, the murmuring court, all of it fell away, and there was only the memory of a glass of water on a bedside table.

He wore black royal clothes embroidered with gold thread, and every person in the room bowed as he passed. He walked as though the floor belonged to him, which, I realised with a slow, sick lurch, it did.

The stranger I had left behind was the crown prince.

I lowered my head so quickly that my ears brushed my cheeks.

No.

No, no, no.

Of all the men in this kingdom, why did it have to be him?

"Rise," the queen commanded.

I straightened slowly, careful not to look directly at the prince.

He didn't recognise me.

Of course he didn't. He had probably forgotten my face the moment he left that room. I had been one night, one arrangement, one woman whose name he had never bothered to learn. A line in the ledger of a very busy life.

But when his gaze swept across the contestants, I felt it pause.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I looked down at the floor and counted the cracks in the marble.

"Let the selection begin," the queen announced, her voice carrying to every corner of the hall. "The Moon Goddess will determine which of you is worthy to stand beside the future king."

The first trial was a silver arch set in the middle of the hall, its enchanted frame humming faintly, like a note held too long. Each contestant had to pass through it without disturbing a single thread of the magic.

Women stepped forward one after another. Some passed with easy grace. Others struggled, their sleeves and trains catching against the narrow opening, while the spectators whispered behind their fans and laughed.

When my turn came, my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I walked forward, closed my eyes, and stepped through without even brushing the silver.

A bell chimed, clear and sweet.

The official looked startled.

"Accepted."

I blinked.

That was it?

The second trial involved an enchanted crystal seat, resting on a dais of white stone. The contestants who awakened its magic would advance to the next stage.

By the time I sat down, I was so nervous that I nearly missed the official's instructions. The crystal was cold beneath me, colder than it had any right to be.

It flashed.

A sharp crack echoed through the hall.

I jumped to my feet, my heart in my throat.

The crystal had split down the middle, a long bright fracture running through its heart.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then the official cleared his throat and announced, in a voice that wavered, that I had passed.

The laughter around me changed. Some of the women looked annoyed. Others looked suspicious, their eyes narrowing as they measured me from my worn shoes to my twitching ears.

The blonde girl from the courtyard leaned toward her companion, not bothering to lower her voice.

"She must have cheated."

I pretended not to hear.

I had no idea how I was passing these tests, and I wasn't interested in finding out. Questions like that led to answers I might not survive. I only wanted to get through the selection without being noticed.

Unfortunately, the queen had other plans.

"For the third trial," she announced, "the crown prince will select three women from those who remain."

My stomach dropped.

Three women.

He would choose three, and those three would proceed to the final test.

The prince stepped forward, and the hall fell silent enough that I could hear the flames hissing in their bowls.

He examined the contestants one by one, his expression unreadable, dismissing several with a slight shake of his head. Each rejection fell like a small, cold stone. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, silently begging him to pass me by.

Please, I thought. Please, please, please.

"Her."

The word came from directly in front of me.

I looked up.

His golden eyes were fixed on mine.

For one terrible moment, I thought he had recognised me.

Then he turned to the queen.

"I choose her."

The hall erupted in whispers.

The queen's smile tightened until it looked painful.

"You must select three, Your Highness."

"I heard you."

He didn't look away from me.

And I suddenly understood something far more frightening than the possibility of being sent home without the reward.

The prince had noticed me.

I just didn't know why.