When the hall was finally cleared, the queen asked Adrien and Rowan to meet in her study.
The study smelled of paper, ink, and lavender. The queen liked lavender because it calmed people while she made decisions that terrified entire kingdoms.
Adrien leaned against the table. Rowan sat upright like a scholar who wanted to lie down but had too much dignity.
"So," the queen said, "we saw good effort, weak planning, and interesting stamina."
Rowan opened his notes. They were a disaster of scribbles, arrows, crumbs, and what looked like a tiny drawing of a screaming chicken.
"Many worked hard," Rowan stated, "but hard work without thinking burns energy fast."
The queen smiled. "Exactly."
Adrien added, "Most tried to impress me instead of speaking to me. Like they rehearsed answers."
The queen tapped her finger. "A queen cannot rehearse her life. Crises do not wait for performance notes."
They reviewed all the names. Some were crossed out immediately. Some were questioned. A few stayed in the center of the table for longer consideration.
But the most interesting part was not the selection - it was the mood.
The queen was focused. Rowan was calculating. Adrien was quiet.
A quiet prince always meant he was thinking more than he said.
The queen folded her hands.
"Anastasia surprised me today," she said calmly.
Adrien's head raised slightly - only slightly.
Rowan nodded. "She saw the marathon. Not the sprint."
"And Drizella," the queen continued, "has steadiness. No showing off. No panic."
Rowan made a note. Probably a normal note this time.
"And what of Cinderella?" the queen asked.
Rowan smiled fondly. "Kindness. Always. And common sense. But she dislikes attention."
The queen hummed. "Not every queen enjoys it."
Adrien said nothing, but his eyes softened. Cinderella made everyone softer. It was a gift.
They discussed a few other candidates - good families, impressive manners, well-trained but shallow, flashy but fragile, pretty but tired.
After nearly an hour, the queen rolled up the parchment.
"I will choose five for the final trials," she announced. "We will proceed tomorrow."
* * *
The palace hall had finally emptied.
Lanterns glowed warm against the stone walls, and soft music faded into silence.
Most candidates dragged themselves toward their rooms, half asleep and half dramatic. The palace survived another day.
Anastasia stepped onto the balcony for air. She wore her soft night gown, wrapped in a light shawl. The wind brushed her hair and carried the faint scent of pastries from the kitchen.
A moment later, footsteps approached - firm but unhurried.
A young palace guard walked out, dressed in common uniform without armor. Off-duty. Relaxed. No rank showing. He leaned against the railing, looking up at the sky.
Of course, it was Adrien.
But Anastasia didn't notice. Not immediately. Off-duty uniforms hid a lot - most importantly, status.
He glanced at her once, surprised to see company. She gave him a nod. Not bossy, not nervous, just polite acknowledgement.
"Long day?" the guard asked, voice low.
"Longer than planned," she answered.
They stared out at the gardens. Moonlight washed over the small pond and willow trees, making the whole place look softer and less royal. Less heavy.
After a moment, the guard said, "Everyone looked like they were trying very hard."
"Too hard," Anastasia replied. "People forget to breathe when they want to impress."
He chuckled quietly - the kind of laugh that felt like agreement, not mockery.
"And you?" he asked. "Trying to impress?"
Anastasia shook her head. "No. I'm only trying to understand. If I understand how things work, I don't need to pretend."
The guard tilted his head, thoughtful. Most nobles would have said they were meant for greatness or born special. This one talked about understanding.
"You noticed things today," he said. "More than others."
"Noticing is easy," she said. "No one hides when they are tired."
The guard blinked. That line sat in his mind longer than it should have.
"They were tired at the puzzles. And exhausted by the conversation rounds. The ball simply finished the job. That wasn't about dancing - it was stamina."
She said it matter-of-factly, not bragging.
The disguised prince found himself smiling. "You think ruling is a stamina game?"
Anastasia shrugged softly. "A queen cannot faint when the kingdom does. If she breaks early, everyone else does too."
He stared at the gardens again, as if the moonlight might translate her words into strategy.
"You speak like someone who's seen tired queens before," he said.
"Just tired people," she answered. "They work harder than royals and cry less about it."
Silence settled between them again - not awkward, just easy.
The wind moved her shawl. He didn't fix it for her. He didn't reach out or flirt or make some grand gesture. He simply let her be. It was respectful in a way nobility rarely managed.
Finally, she looked up at him. "You are off duty?"
"Yes," he lied smoothly. "Guards get tired too."
"They're allowed," she replied.
He almost laughed at that. The prince part of him, the regulated, polished piece, would have been corrected for such humor during etiquette training.
She made a small bow - informal, friendly. "Good night, sir guard."
"Good night," he replied, softer than intended.
She walked back through the corridor, shawl brushing against the stone, voice fading like the music earlier.
The guard stayed where he was, staring at the place she left, wondering when someone last spoke to him without fear or intention.
Drizella finished her early night snack and paused near the windows of her room. She stared out into the dark garden for a moment.
She didn't see Adrien. But she saw the faint movement of a guard walking from the side garden toward the east wing.
Most people would ignore this.
Drizella did not.
Her mind made small connections. The way that guard moved, quiet and neat. The way he disappeared through private doors. The way Rowan suddenly looked alert.
She didn't say anything. She never jumped to conclusions without evidence. But she tucked the thought away for later, like a coin into a pocket.
* * *
Morning came too early. Bells rang again and everyone hated the bells.
The candidates gathered in the main hall looking half alive. Some hid their yawns behind fans. Some didn't bother.
The queen looked bright and rested.
Adrien stood beside her in full royal attire, not a trace of the off-duty guard from last night. Rowan looked alive only because coffee existed.
The queen raised her hand for silence.
"Ladies," she said, "the three-day trials for future queen selection have now ended."
A wave of relief spread through the hall like warm soup. Some sagged in their gowns. One whispered, "Finally."
The queen continued, clear and calm:
"In ten days' time, results will be sent to each of you. Those chosen will return for final ceremonies."
There was no drama. No ranking. No immediate winner. Just waiting - which somehow felt worse for many.
Rowan stepped forward with scrolls. "Carriages are prepared. Luggage will be sent after breakfast."
Cinderella handed out travel pastries because kingdoms run better when people eat.
Anastasia and Drizella watched quietly. They had no expectations. They were not trying to win anything.
The candidates thanked the queen. Some politely, some very dramatically and then drifted toward the exit hall with mixed expressions.
Excited. Terrified. Hopeful. Confused. Tired beyond belief.
Adrien watched them go, no judgment in his eyes - only curiosity. It was strange how three days could show so much and still not give answers.
When the last carriage rolled out of the palace gates, the courtyard became silent.
No fans snapping. No perfume clouds. No fake smiles. Just morning sun and breeze over stone.
Rowan let out a long breath and said, "Thank heavens."
The queen laughed softly. "Oh Rowan. We are just getting started."
Adrien didn't laugh. He was thinking - not about crowns or trials, but about a moonlit balcony and a girl who talked about queens as if crowns were work, not trophies.
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SIDE NOTE: The only thing left is the romance. So get ready. đź’—đź’“
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