The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 20

LIRA

I sat stiffly in the gold-trimmed chair, my fingers clenched tight in my lap. The steward's voice echoed through the grand hall like a curse I couldn’t outrun.

"The challenge," he announced, "is addressing your subjects. You will each present a short speech before the court on a topic provided to you."

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Speaking? Fine. I could prepare. That was better than some unexpected display of swordplay or courtly dance.

But then came the challenge and I was grossly underprepared.

"And lastly," the steward continued, "you will propose a charitable initiative that reflects your vision for the kingdom's future."

Around me, the air shifted, satin skirts rustled, fans fluttered, and whispers bloomed like weeds. I caught the satisfied look on Lady Calista’s face, the little lift of her chin. Lady Saphira’s smirk curled like smoke. They looked like they knew what to do. Of course they did. They probably practiced this at home.

I sat there, bones frozen beneath the weight of their ease. I had no real education, no court tutors, no lineage to brag about. Everything I knew, I had scraped together in the shadows of dusty books and overheard gossip. I wasn’t ready for this. But I also couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

Failure wasn’t an option. Exposure meant my death.

The first challenge came sooner than expected. That afternoon, the palace transformed into a maze of tea parlors, each girl hosting her own event. I was given a room tucked near the garden, full of gleaming china and floral arrangements I hadn’t chosen. Everything felt too pristine, like a stage I hadn’t rehearsed for.

I had spent the morning memorising etiquette from a borrowed book in the castle library and practising how not to sound like an absolute idiot. But when the first guests entered, a trio of noblewomen glittering with jewels and judgment, I felt my confidence crumbling bit by bit.

"Lady Lira of the Vale," one of them said, raising her brows like she’d discovered a speck of dust. "I must admit, I haven’t heard much about your family in recent years."

"Right," another chimed in. "I wondered if the crown invited you just to confirm the Vale family still existed."

Their words stung, but I smiled tightly, like I’d practised. "We’ve kept to ourselves," I said. "But I’m honoured to be here, representing our house."

They didn’t look impressed. And it only got worse.

I poured the tea too fast, spilled a few drops. Dropped a sugar cube onto the floor. My fingers trembled every time I reached for the delicate cups. Every attempt at small talk died in my throat. I tried to steer the conversation to safe topics, flowers, books, music, but they twisted everything into sharp little questions I couldn’t answer.

Meanwhile, the other girls thrived. I heard whispers of Calista’s perfect manners, Amara’s charm, even Elora’s gentle sincerity. By the end, my guests gave polite nods and left quickly, their expressions unreadable but cold.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I thanked them sweetly, like a good little noblewoman. Then I stood there alone, surrounded by fine china and cold tea, feeling more like an impostor than ever.

If I was a noble, it would have been an easier challenge, but I was not, I was a fake, an impostor. My lessons were stopped the minute my father died, I had no access to a governess or a proper education. I was only able to continue my reading lessons because my brother helped me. I was hopeless!

The next day, we were given our speech topics. Mine was education.

I almost laughed. The irony of it.

Still, I wrote. I rewrote. I paced. I whispered my words to myself like a prayer.

When it was finally my turn, I stepped onto the dais, heart hammering. The hall loomed before me, packed with nobles who had never known hunger or silence or fear. I saw Prince Cassian near the front, lounging in his chair like he was born for it. His eyes met mine for a second, curious, unreadable.

"My lords and ladies," I began, keeping my voice steady, "education is the foundation upon which our kingdom’s future is built. I believe it should not be a privilege reserved for the wealthy but a right extended to all who call Aurelia home."

Simple. Honest. Mine.

A few clapped. A few whispered. Some frowned like I’d insulted the gods. They didn’t understand what it was like to grow up in the ashes of a name. They didn’t know what it was like to read by candlelight while your brother starved himself to pay the taxes of a crown that forgot you. A crown that took everything that belonged to your family and name.

And they certainly didn’t know the truth behind why I was here.

If they did, they’d see more than a girl with shaking hands.

They’d see the daughter of a man who had been accused of treason. Who had everything taken away from his family.

The final challenge came like a final blow: propose a charitable initiative.

Easy for girls who lived in marble halls. Saphira proposed a royal hospital for only nobles. Calista described a palace-sponsored art academy. Everything polished, everything perfect.

When my turn came, I cleared my throat, eyes locked on the floor so I wouldn’t have to meet theirs.

"I would like to create a scholarship fund for underprivileged children," I said. "So that those with no title, no connections. just potential, might rise and serve Aurelia with pride."

Polite nods. Thin smiles.

No one clapped.

I walked back to my seat with my chin high, even though my insides were breaking apart.

Later that night, I passed a sitting room where some of the girls were talking. I paused just outside, hidden by the door.

"My mother told me she spilt tea all over the tablecloth?" Evadne giggled. "Like a common tavern girl."

"She’s hopeless," Saphira said, smug. "I don’t know how she made it this far."

"Well, at least we know who’s leaving next," Amara added, her smile wide and cruel.