For centuries, the royal family of Aridia has hosted The Choice, the competition where the eligible daughters of the Nobles of Aridia, come together to vie for the hand of the heir to the throne. This year, Prince Carlos is the heir to the throne a...
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"Tighter," My mother snapped at the seamstresses who quickly pulled the strings on the corset that seemed to be crushing my ribs.
"I...can't...breathe," I wheezed. It felt like my insides were collapsing.
"If you'd listened to me all those times I'd told you to start wearing a corset, Madeline, you would have been used to it by now," My mother scolded, not caring that I was in tremendous pain.
"Can't I just not wear a corset?" I moaned, involuntary tears welling in my eyes.
Caroline scoffed from where she lounged on the loveseat. I didn't remember granting her entrance into my room. "You have the womanly features of a 10 year old, Madeline- even a corset can't make you look like a woman." Of course, Caroline had to chastise me for not having a full bosom like her, or a nice difference between her waist and hips. I honestly couldn't care less about what I looked like as I had no intentions of seducing the prince.
"What kind of dresses would you like for her, Viscountess?" The seamstress asked, looking at my mother.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Instead of my mother's luscious blonde curls, I got my father's dull dark brown hair and boring brown eyes. I wasn't voluptuous or attractive like Caroline or any of the other girls I'd met and I was completely fine with that.
"Something that defines her bust surely," Caroline snorted. My mother never scolded Caroline for snorting or scoffing but when I did, she would delve into a speech on how unbecoming it was. It was obvious Caroline was her favorite.
"Shut up, Caroline! No wonder all the men you speak to never actually speak to you but to your breasts," I shot, smiling when Caroline's eyes narrowed.
"You wretch! I'll make you regret that," Caroline seethed before flouncing out of the room in a dramatic flourish.
"You really should learn how to hold your tongue, Madeline. I don't think Prince Carlos wants a blabber mouth for a wife," My mother scolded, shaking her head as the seamstresses measured me.
"You said the plan was to get kicked out successfully at The Cut and not be sent home in disgrace," I noted. "There was nothing about vying for the prince's hand."
My mother looked genuinely disappointed. Of course, she'd love to be the mother of the future queen and rub it into the faces of all the other Nobles' wives. But, I was completely hopeless and not in the least bit attractive like Caroline. Besides, the prince and I were arch enemies and I dreaded seeing him again.
***
"What side of your plate is your cutlery on?" My mother asked, peering at me.
I remembered a trick I had learnt from finishing school, considering the fact that I mostly day dreamed during lessons and preferred to play pranks on my peers rather than practice my etiquette. I looked at my fairly callused hands before speaking.
