The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Thirty: Atlas ❦

The room is filled with an electric tension, the kind that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. We're all gathered around the television, eyes glued to the screen as Charlotte—no, Lottie—finishes up her interview with Duncan Fairchild. I can't help but feel a mix of emotions: pride, worry, a touch of jealousy even. She looks stunning, poised, and every bit the princess she's been trained to be. But beneath that polished exterior, I know there's more. There's the girl who snuck into my room late at night, the one who's struggling to keep it all together.

Oliver leans back on the couch, running a hand through his hair as he watches the broadcast. "She's something else, isn't she?" he murmurs, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice tight. "She is."

Sebastian, ever the quiet one, simply nods, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on the screen. Jameson crosses his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable, but I can see the gears turning in his mind. We're all thinking the same thing—tonight's going to be a turning point. Jasper's death has changed the game, and now there are only five of us left. And with the kingdom watching our every move, there's no room for mistakes.

The broadcast cuts to a commercial break, and the tension in the room seems to ease slightly. But it's only a temporary reprieve. We all know what's coming next.

Oliver glances at me, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You nervous, Everheart?"

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "Why? You worried I'm going to outshine you, Bennett?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, just wondering if you've got something up your sleeve."

I shrug, keeping my tone light. "Guess we'll find out."

But the truth is, I am nervous. Not for the interview itself—I've faced tougher situations—but for what it means. Every word, every look, will be dissected by the kingdom. And more importantly, by Lottie. I can't afford to slip up.

The tension in the air is almost palpable, each of us lost in our thoughts as we try to piece together what this means for us. When Charlotte drops the bombshell about bringing someone new into the Crown's Circle, we all exchange glances, some curious, others a little annoyed.

"Someone new?" Oliver mutters, crossing his arms. "As if we didn't have enough competition already."

"Maybe it's someone from Stratum One," Sebastian jokes, though there's an edge to his voice. "Just to make it even more impossible for the rest of us."

Jameson snorts. "If they're from Stratum One, they'll probably leave after realising they can't handle us commoners."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Relax, guys. We've dealt with worse."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "Like what, Atlas? Getting your ass kicked by Rylan?"

I smirk, not missing a beat. "I wouldn't call it a kick. More like a gentle nudge. Besides, I wasn't the one who ran from the sparring match last week."

The door to the room opens, and a staff member steps in, clipboard in hand. "Gentlemen, it's time."

We all stand, exchanging brief glances before filing out of the room. The walk to the interview set feels longer than usual, the weight of the moment settling on our shoulders. The hallway is lined with portraits of past rulers, their gazes stern and unforgiving. I can't help but wonder what they'd think of us, this group of boys vying for the hand of a princess. Would they see us as worthy? Or just pawns in a game we don't fully understand?

We reach the set, where Duncan is waiting with that ever-present smile of his. The lights are bright, almost blinding, and the cameras are already rolling. There's no turning back now.