The Elite ✓

fifteen | survival skills

"Kindness, even to the most humble, will never lose anything by being offered in a gentle, courteous manner, and the most common-place action will admit of grace and ease in its execution."

illéan royal etiquette booklet

*

Five girls remained in the Selection, and each moved to sync with Sylvia's orders. Though we there were only a few girls left, and how much we wished that the competition was coming to its last threads, we all knew that there was still a long road ahead of us. 

I had recently been catching up on the etiquette book, and to be honest, I had gotten mostly through the book, but really, with the current lack of social events occurring, I didn't really need anything I'd learned. Although, after watching Sylvia's uneven tone and absurd desperation to cover more text, I have a feeling that it's about to change.

"Today's lesson," I recalled Sylvia announcing as she entered the room in hasty strides. "Is about survival skills." She wore a classy jumpsuit matched with a pair of metallic heels. Her hair was gelled to perfection, not a single strand veered out of place. Sylvia also managed to model the classic red lip for today's occasion, but something was missing. You could tell by the way her brows furrowed, the beads of sweat fighting to drip, or her wary expression that would spell trouble if she didn't push us farther.

She had gathered us today a full half hour earlier than usual to teach us proper communication with Royals, as we only had so much time before we were thrown into the lion's den.

"Remember, there will always be a difference between communication and conversation in Royal dialect." It's quite intimidating, the way Sylvia paces herself around the room. No one wants her stopping behind their seat. Ever. 

Then, as if a reset button was planted on her, she starts her entire routine all over again. "Conversation." She growls, conviction lacing her tone. I'm practically falling off the edge of my seat. "Isn't necessarily useless. We all know the way to gain and give information should use a subtle, and unsuspicious process. But a Queen, a Queen should be able to switch to either."

The lesson continued on, Sylvia explaining the procedures in full detail. But finally, after what seemed like ages, she wrapped up the lesson with a finishing victorious smile and continued on to the announcement board.

"I'm sure you ladies are aware that there is a fan-vote elimination coming to you in the next few days, well, the footage of your dates will be aired on Friday, as per usual on the Report. However, as none of you are going to be present, it will be up to the royal family whether or not they wish to say good or bad things about you before the votation." she says, "Today is Wednesday. Meaning, in the next few hours where your attendance is mandatory, I'd suggest making the best impression you can."

Mia and I exchanged glances while I gave Genevieve a worried expression. No wonder Sylvia was so clammy the entire day. All five of us were silent, obviously, we only thought that the date was the only thing that mattered. But clearly, a Queen should be liked by all; By both the public and the inner circle.

"Moving on. Ladies, whoever the fans vote out, will be eliminated the Friday after that. Ah, the Halloween Party."

Though I expected at least a few applauds and cheers for the most coveted celebration at the Palace, I knew that we would all be too tense to function until we were told which girl was really going home.

*

They say that a palace is a fort of stone built by blood, held by bone. Whispers of the past have contributed to effervescence. Chambers and staircases of twisted rock frame an ethereal beauty standing atop a mighty hill while towers, pointy like arrows defend its solidarity. Hummingbirds sing from day till night, and the Prince. He finds his one true love at the stroke of midnight.

Lucas interlocked his arm with mine as I ascended the steps leading to King Maxon and Queen America's infamous garden party. True to its word, it was an event, not a soul would dare miss, especially with such a strong sense of palace authenticity.

I shot him a questioning look at the gesture, but he only offered a reassuring smile in return.

"High lifestyle." I murmured.

"I know. Fancy, right." He grinned, twirling me in broad daylight. Though I'm well aware of the cameras, I choose to ignore them all. "Care for some tea, milady."

I grin at his fake posh accent topped with a sarcastic bow.  "Careful you young lad, other girls a getting jealous." I motion towards Sarah, who's not doing such a great job at hiding her distaste. My smile is ostentatious. "Go." I nudge him towards her, and instantly, she offers him a seat. I shake my head, grinning.

Getting anywhere in a world not made for me and you alike is harder than it seems, take it from Daniel Humphrey himself.  Though the party was made for mingling for the Royal family and The Selected, the only thing any of the other girls seemed to be doing was fawning over Lucas, which I thought I'd use to my advantage. "King Maxon." I approach him slowly. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure." America, from beside him offers me a wink and a pat on the shoulder before excusing herself to get a mug of hot chocolate

"Yes. It's Lady Holly, I believe?" He must've sensed the shock written across my face because he lets out a hearty laugh and shakes his head, "Right, I forgot. America just talks a ton about you."

I smile, "We do share the love for music."

"Oh, for sure. She's elated that there's a girl who isn't as untalented as I am." He retorts.

"I never would've guessed." I say, "I always thought the slight scratches on the backside of your hand were from instruments."

"Photography." He nods, "Though I'm surprised you even managed to notice that?" His response is that of a question, almost as if he's conducting an analysis on my responses. King Maxon is also watching my expression closely, and I'm afraid I might say something wrong.

"Paying attention to detail," I try to shrug it off, and thankfully America returns not long after. Her vibrancy enlightens the entire conversation. As we make our way around the fountain, I allow myself to swallow the nerves that have been occupying my mind. I'd managed to make quite the lasting impression on America, though I'm sure King Maxon is observing the actions of each Selected closely. And I'm afraid to say something wrong.

Our conversation topic range is broader than for comfort. It might've started on a lighthearted note, but soon, it progressed into politics. I knew what America was doing, fusing the topic into a serious note. She was helping me, and luckily, my prior knowledge to political and economic values was enough to leave even a minor impression, though Maxon's expression revealed nothing.

By the time we three made a full round around the garden, the others had already made their way to the cocktails. My fingers were near touching a glass chute, but the pins and needles pain in my head reminded me that I couldn't help myself to one and continue sipping my boiling tea.

At that moment, I faced the sky and shut my eyes tight and I hoped.

I hope to the sun, the moon and the stars, that my survival skills were enough.