The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 21

LIRA

The tension in the palace had become unbearable.

I sat at the end of the long royal dining table, poking at my breakfast. Word had spread of my failure at the challenges, every girl was fully convinced that I would be the next to be sent home. And I partially believed them.

I had barely touched the soft fruit tart on my plate. I wasn’t hungry. Not with their eyes on me.

"I heard Lady Lira couldn't even pour tea properly," Saphira said, her voice raised just enough to carry down the table.

Lady Evadne sipped from her jewelled cup and smirked. "At this rate, she’ll be gone by the end of the week."

I bit the inside of my cheek and kept my head low.

Then Amara chimed in with a honeyed tone. "Oh, don’t be too hard on poor Lira. She grew up far from the city didn't she? I heard that place is filled with savages."

Laughter spilled across the table. My ears burned. I clenched my hands beneath the table, wishing for the strength to shout, to scream, You don’t know me. But that would only prove them right.

They thought I didn’t belong. And they were right.

That afternoon’s challenge was announced as one of "poise and grace." We were each to arrange a formal state dinner table, complete with floral arrangements, crystal, and a theme representing our vision for Aurelia’s future.

I had no idea where to start.

Juliette stood near me, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear as she delicately placed a cluster of fresh roses in her centrepiece. Her table was almost perfect. 

But Amara lingered close. Too close.

I watched, heart racing, as Amara casually circled Juliette’s table. Her fingers brushed the heavy silver candlestick near the centrepiece, and then, just like that she vanished. Not with a spell or a chant. Just a shimmer in the air, a flicker of something ancient and quiet. One heartbeat, she was there. The next, she wasn’t.

Invisibility. Such dangerous power and Amara used it freely without notice.

They claimed the Selection was fair and we shouldn't use magic, but Amara used hers without fear of repercussions.

A moment later, Juliette returned with a tray of crystal goblets. She placed one down, then another, and just as she set the third, the candlestick tumbled.

Wax splashed across the silk. The centrepiece collapsed. The crystal goblets tumbled all over the floor. Her table was a mess already.

Gasps filled the chamber.

Juliette’s face turned pale. She stood frozen as though struck. Her eyes darted over the mess in horror.

"Clumsy," Amara murmured, shimmering back into sight with an all-too-innocent smile. "You really should be more careful, Juliette."

I caught the glint in her eye. She was proud of what she’d done. And no one else had seen it.

Later, in the girls’ wing, I passed by as Juliette cornered her.

"You did that," she hissed. Her hands were trembling. "I saw you near my table. You used magic!"

Amara tilted her head, a picture of mock innocence. "Me? I was adjusting my centerpiece. Maybe you should accept responsibility for your own mistakes, Juliette."

Their argument ended with Juliette storming off, her shoulders rigid with fury. I couldn’t blame her.

No one would believe her. Not without proof. Not when magic like Amara’s left no trace.

....................

Calista, of course, continued to shine. Her table arrangement looked like something out of a fairytale, floating lanterns, petals enchanted to shimmer like moonlight. Even Queen Seraphina gave her a rare nod of approval.

The next day, during the diplomacy speech challenge, Calista delivered a flawless speech on preserving Aurelia’s foreign alliances. Her voice never trembled. Her words flowed like water. I watched as a courtier leaned toward another and whispered, “She’s perfect.”

The nearby girls looked angry.

“She’s just a teacher’s pet,” Evadne muttered later, her voice thick with jealousy.

"It’s obvious they want her to win. Her father’s influence probably bought every judge in this palace," Juliette added bitterly. She had barely recovered from her sabotage.

Saphira shrugged. “Her father sent gifts to every instructor. It’s clever; I’ll give him that.”

"But isn’t that cheating?" Amara said. “Shouldn’t that disqualify her?”

“Maybe,” Saphira said with a shrug. “But none of it matters if the prince doesn’t choose her. And let’s be honest… he barely looks her way.”

That made them laugh. Even Juliette managed a small smile.

I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking about Calista or the prince. I was thinking about how to save myself from being eliminated before I got a real chance to get revenge.

.........................

The next morning, I woke up before the sun. I didn’t sleep much, too busy replaying everything I’d seen, every whispered word and calculated glance, over and over in my head. I couldn't afford to leave the castle.

So I began to study. Not scrolls or books, but the girls themselves.

I watched how Calista spoke to the instructors, always with a gentle smile and eyes that gleamed just enough to seem honest. I mimicked the way she stood with perfect posture, how she kept her hands folded just so. I watched Amara, her brutal confidence, the way she laughed easily even when insulting someone. I tried to adopt Vivienne’s biting wit, subtle but sharp like the edge of a blade. They each wielded different weapons. Charm. Strategy. Spite.

I began copying them all, just enough to blend in, to survive. It felt strange, like slipping into someone else’s skin. But if this was the game, I had to learn how to play it. Not forever. Just long enough.

I didn't have their magic, or their influence, or even their beauty, so I had to work even harder to stay.

That afternoon, as I left the library with a book I had no intention of reading, I nearly collided with him.

Prince Cassian.

His silhouette appeared at the end of the corridor, framed by a shaft of golden sunlight filtering through the stained glass. He looked every bit the reckless, gorgeous creature the court relentlessly whispered about, hair tousled, shirt slightly unbuttoned, a bored expression resting just below those cruelly beautiful eyes.

His gaze flicked to me.

“Well,” he said slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you’re still here.”

I stopped, straightened my spine, and let the silence stretch for half a breath. “I am,” I said calmly. “For the Queen’s selection.”

He tilted his head, as if trying to see something beneath the surface of me. “You don’t seem like the type who’d care much for this sort of thing. You’re more... practical, aren’t you?”

The way he said it, it was almost a compliment. Almost.

I met his gaze without flinching.

"What was it you said to me the last time? That I was above the rules?”

His smirk deepened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Yes, your Highness. you are above the rules."

"Bold of you to repeat it.”

“Well, aren’t you?” I asked softly. “The rules don’t apply to you. That’s the real reason Lady Cassandra isn’t here anymore, isn’t it?”