Elizabeth was amazed at how incredibly efficient the palace staff were. In just a few hours, they had organized a dazzling party. The ballroom gleamed with living magic: enchanted candles floated in perfect harmony, illuminating the white marble and columns carved with filigree of gold and rubies. Everything was so polished, so majestic, so artificial… Yet, that wasn't what unsettled her the most.
All the noble houses were present. Every face she remembered from past lives was there. How? There were no phones, no telegrams. But, of course… here, magic was everywhere. Even in the candles.
She was absorbed in that thought when the elderly president of the council approached her, accompanied by a young man—serious, handsome, and completely out of place. He wore his knight's uniform as if the gala didn't concern him and carried a sword at his waist with the ease of someone who sleeps with it.
"Your Highness," greeted the old man with a smile as respectful as it was twisted. "I have fulfilled your order. As a token of trust… I wish for my grandson, Sir Veldora, to be your knight bodyguard."
"Knight bodyguard?" Elizabeth repeated without flinching. "Or your executor if I fail?"
The old man laughed, pleased.
"You are much more direct than I imagined… But you're mistaken. I have no intention of betraying you. My plan is another."
"Oh… and I suppose you won't tell me?"
"You're wrong again, Your Highness," he replied, with a perverse glint in his eyes. "I'm an old man. Perhaps I have one or two more centuries. But I've had a brilliant idea."
He gestured toward his grandson, who remained firm, silent, his face neutral like a marble statue.
"We will make a blood oath. For exactly three years, my grandson Sir Veldora will obey only you. He will be your protector, your executor, your faithful shadow. He will not be able to betray you, no matter what happens."
Elizabeth blinked. There were no memories of this in any other version of herself. What good were a sea of memories if none contained this scene?
"And why him?"
"Because my grandson will not fall behind any of the princes. His strength… his magic… I trust he will be useful in your objective."
"And if I succeed?"
"Then my grandson will marry you and seal a new pact. One in which he guarantees your life above his own."
The logic was clear. If she won, she had a loyal husband. If she lost…
"And if I fail?"
"You and my grandson will die in exactly three years."
"Him too?"
"Of course. The crown of this kingdom is worth that risk. This is our way of showing you that my family… that my faction… supports you."
It wasn't a bad move. Veldora would be sword and shield. And the princes couldn't kill her during those three years without risking the selection.
But then, a memory struck her.
A red moon. A giant eye open in the sky. Demonic beasts ravaging her kingdom. A black fire dragon devouring her alive.
Elizabeth staggered.
"Are you alright, Your Highness?" asked Veldora, holding her firmly.
His strong arm held her effortlessly. Everyone in the room noticed the gesture.
"I'm fine… just a bit tired," she responded softly. "Thank you, Sir Veldora."
That fleeting glimpse… what had that been? A prophecy? A memory of the future? It didn't appear in any of her other lives. What if there was something worse than this damned selection?
Inside, she cursed the "gift" she had been given. What good were so many memories if she couldn't trust any of them? A legendary sword would have been more useful. Or a dragon.
"Your Highness," Zarek appeared a few steps away, with a concerned face and a kind voice. "I saw you were a bit unsteady. May I offer you help? One could say I'm an excellent doctor."
"Doctor," thought Elizabeth. "You're a genocidal psychopath. Not a doctor."
"Prince Zarek von Vireon. Your concern honors me, but it's unnecessary. I just need some fresh air."
Zarek, always courteous, extended his arm as a hook.
"Then, it will be a pleasure to accompany you on a walk through the gardens."
She couldn't avoid it. She would have to spend time with all of them. At least she knew they wouldn't harm her in public… and now she had a personal bodyguard.
"Master of the Council," Elizabeth called to the old man. "I agree with what we discussed. Proceed with the preparations."
"As you command, Your Highness."
She took Zarek's arm. To her surprise, it was solid, strong… And if he weren't a madman, she would have enjoyed that contact.
They walked together, followed a few steps behind by Veldora.
"Your Highness," said Zarek. "Who is the knight following us?"
"He is my personal escort. My bodyguard. He will accompany me on my journey through the kingdoms."
"I understand. I will ensure he receives the best possible treatment in my nation. After all… the protector of my future queen deserves the highest honors."
How confident, thought Elizabeth. He already thinks he's the winner.
They stepped into the garden. Small floating spheres glowed in bluish tones, illuminating the place like an enchanted scene. But when Elizabeth turned, she found a smile. Beautiful. Hypnotic. Perfectly rehearsed.
"Your Highness… you are much more beautiful than the stories tell. I feel fortunate to be the first to share your company."
"Spare me the theater," she thought.
Empty compliments no longer affected her. Perhaps if she were the original Elizabeth… but the current one knew too much. She had been used, betrayed, desired, and abandoned by men who promised more than they could offer. She recognized lies from miles away.
"Thank you, Prince Zarek von Vireon. I am not worthy of such words… especially when you surpass every description my advisors gave me."
"Please," he said with a perfect smile, "just call me Zarek. There's no need for formalities between us."
"Then, call me Eliza," she replied, without losing her smile.
"It's an honor, Eliza."
Zarek stopped, knelt, and placed a kiss on her gloved hand…
Until a loud laugh broke the moment.
A powerful, free, and discourteous laugh echoed among the flowers, breaking the spell of the moment.
Dren Backstell walked toward them like a wolf without a leash, hands in his pockets and a smile as big as his arrogance.
"God… seriously, Zarek, how ridiculous you look," he said, letting out another laugh on the verge of insult.
Zarek stood up with a frosty expression. He glared at him, and for a moment, seemed to forget he couldn't kill anyone… at least not yet.
"Ridiculous? What's ridiculous is interrupting like a savage without manners in the middle of a royal gala."
"Hey, princess," said Dren without looking at Zarek. "How about you leave the porcelain doll and come with me? I'll show you how a real man behaves… not a hypocritical liar."
Zarek raised his hand. A sword of pure energy materialized out of nowhere, shining with an unnatural intensity. Without saying a word, he placed it against Dren's neck, just inches away.
"Repeat that once more, and I'll be the next king of your filthy kingdom."
Dren raised his hands with feigned innocence.
"Ooh… how scary."
But he didn't back down an inch.
"Your Highnesses!" Sir Veldora's voice cut through the air like a blade, deep and authoritative. "I remind you that you are in the Kingdom of Aurelthane. Fights between princes are prohibited by the Agreement of the Six Kingdoms."
Zarek and Dren turned to him coldly, but Veldora didn't waver.
"If you insist on a duel in front of the princess, according to Decree 23 of the Treaty, both will be disqualified. According to Decree 22, you have already been informed of this rule. I will not repeat it."
Of course, he wouldn't. He would have loved to see both eliminated right there… but he had to follow the protocol to the letter.
"I apologize, Prince Zarek," said Dren, making a bow as exaggerated as it was false. "I believe I have disrespected you. I hope to compete fairly and justly with you in the Selection Tournament."
Zarek dematerialized his sword with elegance, unperturbed.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Prince Dren. I also apologize for my words about your… beautiful kingdom. I look forward to measuring forces with you in the arena."
Elizabeth watched them with a mix of disbelief and weariness. "Will it be like this every day for three years?"
"Do you wish me to escort you to your chambers, Your Highness?" asked Veldora, approaching with his measured tone.
"Please. I think I've had enough excitement for one day."
Zarek stepped back, making an elegant bow.
"I look forward to our next conversation, Eliza."
"And I to yours, Prince Zarek."
They walked back to the palace, with Veldora stepping firmly by her side, silent, protective. Elizabeth didn't know if she could trust him yet… but there was something comforting in his presence. She had the impression—growing stronger—that this man would be more useful than he appeared.
And something told her that the other princes were starting to notice it too.
Perhaps… too much.