The Ruler of Wattpadia - Contest

Lady Shayne Brightwell of Fayí

The room is crowded. Everyone around me is chattering quickly and excitedly, gossiping about the contest, or sizing up their competitors. That's why I'm here.

I was forced into a royal blue dress by my mother, who believed that the future queen must always look her best. I don't say it out loud, but the competition looks tough-- there's no telling if I'll actually be queen.

My feet are already sore, the pointed shoes crushing my toes, and I've only danced with the minor nobles. I've yet to dance with any if my competitors.

All of them have commented on my hair. The one thing I hate about my knowledge of magic-- it's irreversible. I wish I didn't stand out so much, but I've seen the girl with purple hair waltzing around, so I'm not the only one garnering unwanted attention.

As I stand on the side, mentally groaning about my feet, I silently watch the contestants.

First rule in learning magic-- observe it. If you do it wrong, there's no telling what could happen.

That's how I approach everyone. A subject to observe. I notice a girl, light brown hair, green eyes, she can't be much shorter than I, walking around socializing. She smiles at everyone, not giving them any glares or condescending looks.

At the moment, I'm glad I've cast a slight chameleon spell. It's subtle-- if they're not looking directly at me, the chances of them noticing me are much slimmer. The spell itself will wear off by the end of the night, and is only really noticeable to other magic users.

I don't know that I could deal with someone I could never hate. My father is pushing me to win this for the riches, my mother the fame and freedom. If I don't win, my father will never forgive me and I will disappoint my mother. That can't happen.

I notice another girl, tall, reddish hair. She's talking to a boy, with slicked back brown hair. Next to his strong form, she looks unusually frail, as though she's only held together by the manners bred into her.

It looks as though everyone is talking to each other. As the ball draws to a close, I already see some girls walking out together, talking animatedly.

I've given myself an advantage and a disadvantage. I don't know them well, allowing me to not get close, but I've also lost information.

Next time, I'll talk to them, see what they're like from both up close and afar. Then there's no disadvantage.