On Sunday I woke up to both Aideen and Oda waking me up.

"What's the matter?" I asked and sat up defensively, having them both recoil away. "What are you two doing?"

"You must be dressed formally," Oda demanded,

"I found out Mother will be eating breakfast with the Dandelion System contestants."

"Breakfast? That's too early!" I gasped, standing up too and hastily combing my hair before the vanity table.

"She will change the time she visits each Sunday," Aideen added, making it no better.

"I've brought some newly made dresses from the tailor in your measurements," Oda said quickly, and I debate to myself if she was being kind or simply distrustful of my taste. Aideen gently laid down an array of dresses on my bed. I placed down my comb and looked through them.

To my curiosity, all the dresses were either dark blue, deep green brown, or some other gloomy color. They had no patterns, and the bodice and sleeves were undecorated.

"Why is it that the palette and dresses are so plain?" For some reason, Oda smiled proudly at my question.

"Mother despises too much decor and frivolousness. She would prefer a lady who is simple, quiet, and obedient. Act as polite and graceful as possible." I frowned at her directing. It seemed like Oda was the opposite of her Mother's preferences.

"I thought she already had someone in mind, why would it matter for her to like me?" I gently lifted up a blue gown, surprisingly light and soft. It reminded me of the day of the ball, when my dress got ruined and I received one from Princess Oda—but only after the hassle of agreeing to be her pawn.

"You are so unintelligent," she muttered. "Don't you want her respect so she might not mind you winning?" I couldn't help but chuckle at her obstinate confidence.

"It's time for you to leave now," Aideen reminded Oda, who scowled.

"After I come back today, we will go back to Otto," she reminded me. I nodded, and then she left. I sighed before I change out of my nightgown and Aideen proceeds to lace my corset.

When we go down the stairs, we see a crowd of girls in the hallways, making it a lively scene. It took a while for me to find Oriana, who was wearing a rather simple pink gown. Annabelle, however, was like most of the others, dressed up impressively and wore heavy-looking hair accessories.

"Have you heard? The Queen is eating breakfast with us," Annabelle asked.

"I only just heard," Oriana said, "But it seemed like everyone else knew." The moment the dining room door opened, the girls shrieked and pushed one another to get in first. I tried my best to stick with Oriana and Annabelle so I could sit with them.

Inside the room, sitting prim and radiant, is the queen. Her hair was pulled back and dark ringlets brushed her neck, and she gazed forward, indifferent to us. She looked just as refined as in the painting, but a few wrinkles lined the edges of her eyes and mouth, possibly due to stress of the King being poisoned and her ruling the kingdom alone.

I couldn't help but think that Oda, who frowned regularly, would have an abundance of wrinkles when she gets older. Although they hardly looked like mother and daughter, they had a similar demeanor—like they are ready to attack anyone who dares step to out of line.

"That's the Queen, Queen Sonota," Oriana whispered to me, saving Annabelle and I, who didn't know her name.

"She looks slightly like Princess Oda." She nodded in agreement. All three of us, without mentioning it, choose seats far away from the Queen. I see a girl in a black dress walk by, and instantly know it's Tristesse. Even for a day like this she was in her mourning clothes.

Other colorful maidens piled in and out, rarely interacting with the Queen. Only two particular ladies sitting by the Queen were conversing with her.

"Who are they?" I asked Oriana, knowing she is more informed than me.

"Garnett Valliere and Lorna Heathcote-Stone. Both of them are from extremely powerful, not to mention wealthy, nobles families. They aren't satisfied with marrying anyone but the prince."

After all twenty maidens arrived, tea is poured and food presented in silver dishes. Breakfast was much more luxurious than it is on other days, as well as tense.

"Queen Sonata, I think you must be the loveliest person I've seen," one of the nobles sitting by her, complimented her.

"Thank you, Lady Garnett," the Queen replied, not even denying it, as blunt as her daughter. I remembered she didn't like people who are too prideful so Garnett was probably unknowingly putting her off.

I looked around to see only a few ladies actually eating. The rest were sitting stiffly and peering at the Queen, occasionally drinking tea.

"What do you do in your free time?" another girl by her asked. "I would love to know what hobbies you have and learn from you!"

"I like listening to music," Queen Sonota answered, with a glance at the far end of the table, where me and Originia sat. "Does anyone else here sing?"

"Oh, yes, I can sing one," Garnett said. We hushed and she began to sing. Her voice was too harsh on some notes. The Queen must've thought that too because she quickly turned back to our side of the table.

"Lady Oriana," the Queen smiled, having us all stare at her in surprise. "I remember your father told me you write songs yourself."

I stared at Oriana, who had dropped her fork. She looked just as startled as the other girls, including me.

How did the Queen know her? Did her father mention her? However, for the Queen to recognize her means they must have met before. More so, for the Queen to call her out—did she like her?

"Oh—yes. Yes, I do," she finally answered.

"I've heard they are extremely good." There was only silence at the table. "Would you mind sharing one?"

"Of course, Queen Sonata." Despite her smiling face and smooth voice, her fingers are trembling. She took a deep breath, and then parted her lips.

"I sense there's something hidden here.

I sense there's a whisper I can't hear."

Any stray voices hush the second they hear her soothing, melancholic voice.

"The sky is crying for the girls,

But they wear her tears like pearls.

They wish to win the prince's hand,

But what do they know of the man?

The wind is telling them to leave,

But their skirts dance in his breeze.

They wish to live like a queen,

But they are only but eighteen.

I sense there's something hidden here.

I sense there's a whisper I can't hear.

Is this simply a fairy tale or

Is there a tragic ending to this tale?

When Oriana finishes, she looked more shaken than ever; her folded fingers are still shaking in her lap and the glares around the table didn't help.

"What an beautiful song. Your voice is undoubtedly beautiful, too," Queen Sonota smiled.

There were glances among us girls and soft murmurs. It took a while before the room went back to order, the poorer girls eating, the noble girls gossiping. I turned to peek at Oriana. She didn't eat anymore, and wisps of her golden hair hide her face.

After the tense breakfast, I went to the garden with Oriana. I was more than disappointed. The Queen was too good of an actress so I wield no clues to who she was secretly helping behind the scenes. Oriana stopped walking and sat on a bench. She gestured for me to do so too, so I sat down by her side.

Maybe I can't find out who the Queen's choice is just yet—but I can try and find out Oriana's role in everything.

"That was a beautiful song. I didn't know you could write such songs."

"Thank you, Karina."

"That song—it was about us, right?" I asked her. A silence ensued, with only the sound of the wind rustling the handful of leaves on the trees. Then I finally ask, "Do you not want to marry the prince?"

Oriana slowly shook her head before parting her tightly-closed lips. Then she turned to me.

"How do you feel about it, Karina?" I was taken back by her question.

How do I feel about it? I could say that I was only in it for the payment of Catalina getting help, but I was far too deep with the knowledge of Otto and Oscar. Catalina had even called Oda my friend.

"I—I don't know. But if you don't want to, why did you join?" She looked at her hands.

"It's everything my father wanted. Being famous, a higher status, connected to the Royal family—everything. He already found eight seeds."

I could sense she was not lying. But eight. Even the princess with her henchmen only managed eight.

"I see." I bit my lips nervously. If Oriana really was against marrying the prince, then would she help me? I cleared my throat before beginning.

"I have met the prince—" I pondered over my choice of words before speaking again, "and I want to save him." This time it was her turn to look at me with disbelief. My mind raced.

"He's lonely, like a caged bird, but he never fails to be kind. His smiles are pure and he plays the flute beautifully," I romanticized, and a smile grew on Oriana, despite her prior frown.

"Karina, do you mean—"

"Yes. Yes, I'm in love with the prince." It comes out of my mouth so easily that I wonder if I have a talent for acting.

She reached in into the bodice of her gown to take out a folded handkerchief. I watched as she unfolded it. Eight feathered crystals sat on it, much like the Queen's golden chest.

Then, without warning, she pushed it towards me.

"I can't possibly!" I protested, although inside I was agreeing desperately.

"I don't want to be your rival for someone I don't know—and you are my greatest friend. Not only does this help you, it helps me too." Her earnest eyes made me hesitate.

"What will your father do when he finds out about this?"

"We don't communicate." Her eyelids flickered for a moment. "Even the seeds were sent to me by his messenger." She placed the handkerchief in my hands before holding it with her warm ones to stop me from giving it back.

"I can't thank you enough." Our eyes met, and I saw how good-natured hers are. Full of trust, honesty, and genuine from every angle. Was I really going to take advantage of her?

"If I do win—I will be eternally grateful to you. I will never forget this," I whispered. Her face softened as her hands released mine.

"From now on, I'll give you all the seeds my father sends."

I couldn't argue—she was clearly set on doing so. I didn't know if I should be guilty for tricking her or pleased with myself. Can lies be good—if such a thing was possible—if they help both me and her?

Her soft humming soon forms words so soft I wouldn't have known if I didn't remember it from before.

"...Is this simply a fairy tale or is there a tragic ending to this tale?"