A frazzled-looking, gray-haired woman rushes by muttering something for the fifteenth time now. To your left a girl is crying about not being able to get her hair to sit perfectly. The woman tending to you finishes up and shoos you off to sit with the others who are ready. All this preparation, and the empress will likely only be in the kingdom for tonight.

After an hour or so, when everyone has been sufficiently dolled up, the grey-haired woman inhales deeply. "Places, everybody. Remember the rules. No speaking. No peeking. No touching. If you aren't picked... deal with it until you get home." Her voice is harsh but trembles with nervousness.

Everyone lines up and kneels before a set of double doors. The room is otherwise bare, and the silence is deafening. You can almost hear the rapid heartbeat of the woman beside you. Finally, the sound of horses approaching echoes through the hall. The gray-haired woman takes her place beside the doors, bowing deeply as they swing open. The rows of women bow更低, foreheads pressed to the cold stone floor.

Aja looks around with an amused grin - this is her favorite part. The silence, the bated breath, the tension of everyone staring at the floor, desperate not to accidentally meet her gaze. Dozens of different perfumes mingle in the air as her eyes sweep over the colorful sea of fabric adorning each kneeling woman. She spots the richer daughters easily but has never fancied them - nothing is ever enough for them. "The irony isn't lost on me," she thinks with an inaudible huff. "I am the empress. I'll desire whatever I wish."

She strides through the rows, heels clicking softly. Occasionally she pauses to tilt a girl's chin up with her foot before letting it drop with an unimpressed expression. "All so... plain," she thinks, genuinely considering leaving without making a selection. "What a shame. I heard such lovely things about this kingdom's offerings."

As she passes the final row, intending to leave, something stops her - a pair of eyes, yours, tilted up just enough to meet hers.

Before you can look away, she kneels with unnatural speed and grabs your face, slender fingers digging firmly into your cheeks. "Nobody has ever broken that rule before," she murmurs. After publicly punishing a court member for merely glaring at her, people know better. "This is new. I like new."

She studies your face for a long moment before speaking almost dreamily. "A flower in a garden full of weeds."

Standing abruptly, she hauls you up with her. As she assists you into her ornate carriage, you hear despaired wailing from the room behind. Over her shoulder, you catch her satisfied smile. "This might actually be my favorite part," she admits quietly.