CHAPTER 1: Selene
Selene awoke with a shock. Today was the day. The day that her husband would be chosen. The night she turned sixteen. Father would love that, wouldn't he. To surround her in a room full of lustful men, all awaiting her decision on who she liked the best. Father would watch knowing fully that this choice of the one she would spend the rest of her life with was not up to her. She opened her weary eyes and sighed knowing exactly what the day would bring, as her every move was watched, planned and perfected. Slowly getting up from the bed, she rang for Dorothy, her personal maid and young companion.
Eagerly, she rushed in, pushing a breakfast cart. Oh well. At least she would have a meal before her day began. Dorothy grinned.
"A fine breakfast for a fine young woman, especially from your father m'lady," Dorothy called out as she rushed to draw a bath and prepare Selene's clothes.
Knowing her father, it was most probably spiked so he could marry her off comatose, or it was just a plate of air. She opened the lid of the dish to find a singular, black rose sitting at the very centre of the plate. Of course. Roses were a sign of farewell, and ones with black petals were a way of practically spelling out good riddance. She placed the lid on the dish and made her way to the privy, where she took a shower.
When she stepped out, there was a corset and a set of elaborate fabrics laid on her bed. Dorothy grinned once more, and Selene sighed, slipping into the white corset. She began tightening it, when Dorothy took hold of the string and began pulling it even more.
"Eighteen inches, m'lady, as the Grand Duke himself says. No more, but certainly less. A lady can break a rib or so for an evening."
Selene winced as the corset tightened till she couldn't breathe. Measuring her waist, Dorothy held up the tape for her to see. Her father supposed that she could sit for hours with an impossibly small figure, barely breathing. Dorothy then brought countless layers of skirts into the room, and when Selene finished putting them on, she felt as if she were carrying all the weight of the world, but perhaps that was just her anxiety weighing her down, in company with the dress, of course.
"Now the wig, m'lady."
"What wig?"
"This wig m'lady," said Dorothy, holding up a powdered grey wig, with elaborate curls and lavender flowers braided through it. Oh lord.
After a 'quick' brushing of the wig, ideal positioning of a diamond encrusted silver necklace and a lecture from Dorothy on perfect posture with much straightening of her spine, she made her way downstairs into the foyer. Her father stood there with his greasy dark ponytail, long beard and regal swallow-tailed suit, his eyes glinting with smugness. He said nothing, but had he done so, Selene would have probably been reprimanded, punched her father in the jaw and sent her suitors packing on the day of the debutante. It was barely dawn and she was already sick of him.
He offered her his hand, but pushing him away, Selene marched into the throne room, where 5 suitors sat, each clad in a different colour frock coat, representing a different province.
"We now welcome Duke Richards of the Moonlight Province, with his daughter, Lady Selene, who shall now pick a groom and a partner for her debutante ball, which shall commence on the eve of her wedding, tonight." called a booming voice.
Selene let out a small gasp. Her debutante was tonight and her father didn't bother to tell Dorothy to let her know. She scanned the room, looking at all five of the suitors, wondering which one her father was going to handpick for her.
"The one in red. His name is Jack. He comes from the Serenum province, the richest nobles in all of Skyra," her father's voice hissed in her ear.
Jack was a stout man, with bulging eyes and a short neck. He was wearing clothes 2 sizes too small, perhaps in hope to show off his 'lean' figure, not that he had one. The sight of all these men was repulsive. Maybe in another life, where she wasn't restricted by her controlling father, she would have liked them better.
One of them, however, stood out to her. He was dressed in a well tailored grey suit, unlike most people in this country. He was dressed like a zephyr, one of the pure elements. But what would a zephyr be doing here? The thing that stood out the most, though, was the uncomfortable expression on his face. He seemed as if he was being forced to be there, like she was.
"Him. I choose him," Selene announced, pointing to the zephyr.
