The morning air in the main courtyard was crisp and cold. The twenty remaining candidates stood in a rigid formation, their faces pale from a sleepless night and the anxiety of the final day. The chaotic trials of yesterday had left them shaken, and now they faced the unknown final test.
A hush fell over the group as the royal family emerged onto the grand balcony. Queen Isolde was a vision of regal energy, her gown a vibrant purple that seemed to glow in the morning sun. King Darius followed, looking like he had aged ten years overnight, his shoulders slumped and his eyes half-closed. And behind them, Prince Aiden looked utterly bored, already half-hidden behind a large, leather-bound book.
Queen Isolde stepped forward, spreading her arms wide in a gesture of theatrical welcome.
"Good morning, my poor, tortured dears!" she boomed, her voice filled with a condescending cheerfulness that made several girls flinch. "You have survived! You deserve an award just for making it this far! But survival is not enough to serve the Dravenheart dynasty!"
She paused for dramatic effect, letting her words hang in the air. Then, she turned to her husband with a dazzling smile, presenting him to the crowd.
"My husband, do you have any words of wisdom for our finalists today?"
King Darius, who had been swaying slightly on his feet, jolted upright. His eyes blinked open, but they were glassy and unfocused. He opened his mouth, took a breath, and then…
"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…"
A soft, rumbling snore escaped his lips. His head drooped, and he was fast asleep, standing up.
A few of the girls gasped. Others stifled giggles.
Queen Isolde's smile froze for a fraction of a second. A dangerous twitch appeared at the corner of her eye. Without looking away from the crowd, she elbowed her husband sharply in the ribs.
The King snorted awake with a grunt. "Wha—? I'm awake! I was just… contemplating!"
The Queen's smile returned, brighter and more forced than before. She quickly turned back to the girls, as if nothing had happened.
From behind his book, Aiden let out a tiny, almost inaudible snort of amusement. He quickly hid it by turning a page.
Down below, the five girls who had captured everyone's attention yesterday watched the royal drama unfold.
Rina looked at the sleeping king with wide, worried eyes. Oh dear, is he alright?
Talia rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell over. Unbelievable. The royal family is a joke.
Lyra didn't even glance at the King or Queen. Her gaze was locked on Aiden, a soft, devoted smile on her face as she watched him read.
Eira observed the entire exchange with keen, analytical interest. Fascinating. The King displays signs of chronic sleep deprivation, likely induced by stress. The Queen exhibits extreme emotional control. A valuable data point.
Seraphine simply looked serene, a faint, amused smile on her lips. She had seen centuries of mortal drama. This was nothing.
Queen Isolde, having regained control of the narrative, clapped her hands once more. "Enough pleasantries! Today is the final test! It is not about cooking or cleaning. It is about character!"
She pointed a dramatic finger at the twenty girls. "Your final task is this: you will each have five minutes to… personally attend to His Royal Highness, Prince Aiden."
Aiden's head snapped up from his book. His face was a mask of pure horror.
The Queen's smile was positively predatory. "He will judge you himself. He will decide which five of you are worthy. Begin!"
"Wait, Mother!!"
Aiden's voice was a strangled yelp, cutting through the Queen's triumphant announcement. He slammed his book shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the sudden silence. All twenty girls, the judges, and even the sleepy King turned to look at him.
Queen Isolde's head swiveled slowly, her predatory smile vanishing. Her eyes, once gleaming with triumph, now narrowed into two icy, dangerous slits.
"What…?"
The single word was colder than a winter dragon's breath. It was not a question. It was a threat.
Aiden felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "No, no, it's nothing!" he stammered, forcing a weak laugh. "I was just… overcome with emotion! At the honor of judging such… fine candidates!"
Internally, his mind was screaming. I can't let this happen. Twenty girls, all trying to 'personally attend' to me? They'll be brushing my hair, polishing my boots, asking me what I'm thinking every five seconds! I'll be pestered to death! It's exhausting just thinking about it!
He took a deep breath, his mind racing for an escape route. An idea, born of pure desperation, sparked into life.
"Actually, Mother," he began, his voice now smooth and reasonable, "I have a thought. A better idea."
The Queen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You? A better idea than mine?"
"Yes! For the final selection!" Aiden pressed on, gaining confidence. "Instead of this… individual test, which is so subjective, why don't we make it a real challenge? A true test of skill and teamwork!"
He gestured dramatically to the twenty girls, playing to his mother's love of spectacle. "Why don't we let the twenty remaining members form teams of a maximum of five people each! They can choose their own teammates!
He could see he had her attention. He went in for the final blow.
"And the competition… can be a cooking contest!" he announced, as if it were the most brilliant idea in history. "We can give them a basket of mystery ingredients, and they must create a feast worthy of the Dravenheart name! It's a classic test of skill, creativity, and collaboration under pressure! Much more elegant than… than this."
The courtyard was silent. The twenty girls looked at each other, whispering. A team competition? They could choose their own partners?
Queen Isolde stared at her son, her expression unreadable. She tapped a long, manicured finger against her chin. She had expected him to protest, to whine, to run away. She had not expected him to propose a counter-plan. A clever, well-reasoned, and actually quite good plan.
She saw the benefits immediately. It would force the girls to interact, to show their leadership and their ability to work with others. It would also reveal the natural leaders, the followers, the loners. It was… a better test.
A slow, sly smile spread across her face. He was trying to save himself, but in doing so, he had just handed her a far superior tool for her matchmaking experiment.
"Very well, Aiden," she purred, her voice dripping with sweet condescension. "An… adequate suggestion. We shall do it your way."
She turned to the candidates, her voice booming with renewed authority. "You heard the prince! Form your teams! No more than five to a group! You have one hour to decide! The final Royal Cook-Off begins at noon!"
Queen Isolde's announcement sent a ripple of panic and opportunity through the twenty finalists. The courtyard, once a place of individual trials, transformed into a chaotic marketplace of whispers, glances, and hurried negotiations. Cliques formed instantly. Girls from noble houses, recognizing each other's family crests, quickly banded together, their polite smiles masking a ruthless exclusion. Experienced ladies' maids, who had worked in grand estates before, formed their own confident groups.
And then there was Rina.
She stood alone, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She watched as a group of four well-dressed girls laughed and chatted, their circle closed and impenetrable. Taking a deep breath, she scurried over, her short brown hair bouncing.
"excuse me..., could you please put me on your team?" she asked, bowing her head slightly in a show of respect.
The leader of the group, a girl with a sharp nose and an even sharper voice, looked her up and down with open disdain. "I'm sorry," she said, her tone making it clear she wasn't sorry at all. "Our team is already full."
With that, the group turned their backs on her, continuing their conversation as if she were invisible.
Rina's shoulders slumped. She tried another group, but was met with similar polite, cold refusals. She was just a village girl, a nobody with no connections and no fancy skills they could see. Desperation began to set in. What am I going to do? I can't go home. Not without the money.
She let out a long, shaky sigh, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She was so focused on her own failure that she didn't notice someone approaching from behind until a soft touch landed on her shoulder.
Rina flinched and spun around. It was the dark-haired girl from the rookery. The one who had been so strangely devoted to the prince. Lyra.
Lyra's expression was calm, her intense eyes looking right through Rina. "You are the girl who followed me yesterday," she stated, her voice a soft, melodic monotone. "You seem… kind."
Rina stared, bewildered.
Lyra's gaze drifted towards the pavilion where Prince Aiden was now watching the team formations with a look of morbid curiosity. A faint, possessive smile touched Lyra's lips. "If you want to be on my team," she said, her eyes still on the prince, "you can..."
Rina's eyes widened in disbelief. The wave of relief was so overwhelming it almost brought her to her knees. A smile, bright and genuine, spread across her face.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" she beamed. "What's your name?"
Lyra's gaze remained fixed on the prince, her expression serene. "My name is Lyra."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lyra! I'm Rina!" Rina beamed, her relief so palpable it was almost radiant. She grabbed Lyra's hand, her energy a stark contrast to Lyra's stillness. "Okay! We need three more people. Let's go ask!"
Rina, now powered by a newfound confidence, dragged Lyra towards the most formidable-looking solo candidate: Talia. The red-haired dragon rider was standing with her arms crossed, her scowl scaring away anyone who dared to approach her.
"Excuse me! Would you like to join our team?" Rina asked, her voice full of cheerful optimism.
Talia didn't even look at her. She scoffed. "Why would I? You're a clumsy village girl, and she's… strange. I work alone."
Rina's face fell, but she wasn't ready to give up. "But the rules say we should work together! It'll be fun! We can make a great stew together!"
Talia was about to deliver a cutting remark when Lyra spoke, her voice a soft, monotone whisper that cut through the air. "Your dragon… Ember… is restless. He does not like you being here.
Talia's head snapped around, her eyes wide with shock. "How do you know my dragon's name?" she hissed, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her belt.
Lyra finally turned to look at her, her dark eyes holding an ancient, unnerving wisdom. "All dragons are my family. I can feel their anxiety. He is worried for you.
Talia stared, her mind racing. This girl wasn't just a weirdo; she was a real dragon-kin, and a powerful one at that. She was a threat, but also a source of information. To expose her, Talia had to keep her close. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. I'll join your ridiculous team. But don't think this makes us friends."
Rina cheered, while Lyra simply gave a slow, satisfied nod.
Their next target was Eira Moonveil, who was observing the chaos with a detached, academic calm, as if she were taking notes.
"Hello! Would you like to be on our team?" Rina asked, her bright smile unwavering.
Eira's silver eyes flickered over them, her expression unreadable. "An illogical proposal. You have no clear leader, and your collective skill set is unproven. It is an inefficient alliance. I decline."
Rina's shoulders slumped. It seemed logic was harder to fight than pride.
But then, Lyra stepped forward. She looked directly at the elf mage and said, "My name is Lyra Draconis."
For the first time, Eira's calm facade shattered. Her eyes widened in genuine shock. "Draconis? Of the Ancient Dragon Valley?" she repeated, her voice filled with an uncharacteristic awe. She looked at Lyra, truly seeing her for the first time—not as a strange girl, but as a living piece of a forgotten history. Her analytical mind whirred. This changed everything. The prophecy… the prince… it was all connected.
"I see," Eira said, her expression returning to its normal state, but now with a new, intense focus. "My apologies. My previous assessment was… incorrect. The variables have changed. I will join your team."
Rina was speechless. She just stared as the cool, logical elf mage joined their ragtag group.
Now there were only four. Rina scanned the frantic courtyard, her eyes searching for one last person. And then she saw her. Standing alone, far from everyone else, was the pale, dark-haired girl who had been so quiet during the trials. Seraphine.
Rina took a deep breath and marched over, with Lyra, Talia, and Eira in tow.
"Excuse me," Rina began, her voice softer now, almost respectful. "You're all by yourself. We need one more person for our team. Would you like to join us?
Seraphine didn't answer. She slowly lifted her head, her deep red eyes scanning each of them. She looked at Rina's earnestness, Talia's defiant suspicion, Lyra's intense devotion, and Eira's sharp intellect. She saw a collection of secrets and powers, a group far more interesting than any other.
She didn't say a word. She simply gave a single, slow, deliberate nod.
Rina's face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy. She pumped her fist in the air.
"Alright! We have a team of five! Let's do our best!"