The next morning, Anastasia woke early, the unfamiliar softness of the Imperial bed a stark contrast to her reality.
A rigorous schedule for her classes had been provided, each minute accounted for.
"You don't want to be late. That wouldn't be good for a first impression," Hannah said, helping Anastasia dress in a simple, yet elegant, morning gown—part of Gwen's new wardrobe.
"Why this early, though?" Anastasia asked, yawning.
"Early bird gets the worm," Hannah replied with a smile.
Anastasia walked into a classroom and found two other ladies already seated. An elderly woman with thick glasses sat at the front.
"Good morning," Anastasia said, forcing a sweet, practiced smile. The woman simply gestured for Anastasia to take an available seat.
Anastasia quietly sat down, admiring the ornate details of the room, her heart pounding a nervous rhythm.
Hours later, the room filled with the rest of the women. Anastasia was stunned to see so many noble ladies vying for the Emperor's attention. The older woman cleared her throat, adjusting her spectacles.
"It's quite disappointing that not all of you understand the concept of time," the woman said, her voice sharp and unforgiving.
"If you are willing to sit on the throne, then you must understand that the Emperor cannot be kept waiting."
Embarrassment burned on the faces of the late arrivals.
"Unfortunately, not all of you have bad habits. The first three ladies who actually kept to the time shall be given points," she announced, the mention of points a new currency in this dark competition.
Anastasia could only smile faintly, relieved to have secured some early favor.
"Alright, we all know why we are here..." the woman started, but was shortly interrupted by a raised hand.
"Yes?" Mrs. Harper asked in disgust, clearly hating interruptions.
"With all due respect, ma'am, you haven't told us your names yet," a lady said nervously.
"My name is Mrs. Harper, and I will be your tutor for the season. I am aware that there are about a hundred and twenty of you, and somehow I need to transform all of you into graceful ladies. I'll have to lay down some ground rules." Mrs. Harper paused, examining everyone with a critical eye.
"Number one: each of you would be given days and times to see or speak with the Emperor. You shall not approach the Emperor if you do not have an appointment with him. You shall be taught lessons, and at the end of every week, you shall be tested to see if you paid attention.
There shall be an elimination held on Sunday; if you aren't found fit, you'll have to return back to your respective home. You will observe curfew."
Another woman walked into the room, vibrant and cheerful, a stark contrast to Mrs. Harper.
"Good morning, ladies, my name is Miss Sunshine, and I'll be teaching you etiquette." Miss Sunshine handed some folders to Mrs. Harper.
"Oh, there are more rules," Mrs. Harper continued, reading the new list with disdain.
"No cheating, no fighting, no stealing, no yelling. Apparently, the Emperor loves his castle peaceful and silent. Last and certainly not the least: you aren't allowed to leave the castle."
"Alright, before we begin, I would like to inform you that you all would be graded every day by your tutor, earning you points that would determine if you stay or go during elimination day," Sunshine said brightly.
"For the next one hundred and five days, let's try to get along," Mrs. Harper said, the sarcasm thick in her voice.
"Very well, then we shall start by checking your powers. This is to help us see how powerful, or what power, you possess."
"Shall we begin?" Mrs. Harper asked. "I would like to start this in a more humane way. According to who arrived to class this morning."
The first girl walked out to a large, ornate, spinning wheel in the center of the room. She placed her hands on it, and it glowed a beautiful amber color.
"Thunder," a disembodied voice from the wheel announced. Everyone politely clapped.
The second girl did the same thing; the wheel glowed with a bright purple light. "Healer," the voice said again.
"Next," Miss Sunshine called.
Anastasia stood up, praying that she didn't screw things up. She walked to the wheel and placed her hands on the cold surface.
The wheel rolled for a long time, much longer than the others. It flashed different colors—red, blue, green, a kaleidoscope of lights—as if the wheel couldn't decide or calculate Anastasia's power.
It stopped abruptly.
"What are you? Who are you?" the voice from the wheel asked, the synthesized tone suddenly human and confused.
The teachers were stunned.
"Is... Is this normal?" Anastasia asked, the words refusing to come out properly.
"It has never happened before," Mrs. Harper said, her thick glasses nearly falling off her nose.
"I don't understand how this is possible. It can't identify what powers you possess," Sunshine murmured, the cheerfulness gone from her voice.
"Is that a bad thing?" Anastasia asked, her panic rising.
Mrs. Harper looked at Miss Sunshine. They seemed to communicate in a way only they could understand, their expressions worried.
"What's your name?" Mrs. Harper asked, the suspicion evident in her voice.
"My name is Guinevere Whitestone, daughter of Count Demetrius Whitestone," Anastasia replied, slowly performing a perfect curtsey.
"Come with me, Guinevere," Sunshine said, a strained smile on her face.
Anastasia didn't ask questions; she just followed her like an obedient puppy. Miss Sunshine led her to a door at the far end of a long corridor.
"When you get there, greet him with respect and tell him I sent you, and that the wheel couldn't tell what powers you possess," Sunshine instructed.
"But..." Anastasia couldn't finish her sentence. Miss Sunshine shoved her into the room and closed the door firmly.
Inside the room, which appeared to be a study, sat a handsome, albeit severe-looking, man on a throne-like chair.
With one look at his features, the sheer power radiating from him, she knew it was the Emperor.
He had his head resting lazily on his wrist, seemingly asleep. For a moment, she forgot how to speak, mesmerized by his dark, imposing beauty.
After what felt like years of trying to regain her composure, she finally spoke.
"Um... Excuse me, Your Grace." No response. "I was brought here by Miss Sunshine; she asked me to seek your presence or rather guidance on something," she stammered, nervous.
He slept like he didn't have a care in the world. Anastasia took a few tentative steps forward, a strange urge to touch him flickering through her, but she paused.
"What the hell am I doing? There's no need to know what my powers are, right? I mean, what's the point if I don't intend to win?" she whispered to herself.
She turned to leave, but the door opened with a bang that caused Azriel to open his eyes, their dark depths fixing on her.
Charles paused when he saw a girl standing in front of his brother.
Anastasia felt trapped, praying for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
"What are you doing here? Are you here to kill my brother?" Charles placed his sword on her neck instantly.
Normally, she ought to be scared right now, but she simply tilted her head.
"What kind of an assassin would want to murder someone in broad daylight?" she asked, her voice calm despite the sword at her throat.
Charles blinked in surprise. Anastasia used her index finger to push the sword away, the action fluid and confident.
"I am here because during my class today, the teachers wanted to know what power we all possess. Some ladies touched the spinny thing and it showed their powers, but it never showed mine. It just twirled and glowed.
"When it stopped, it just asked me what am I and who am I. I suspected a malfunction, but Miss Sunshine dragged me here, giving me vivid information to tell the Emperor about the situation. I came here just to meet His Grace fast asleep, and you misunderstanding the situation. The End."
Azriel had simply watched them, an amused, dark glint in his eyes.
"I see," Charles muttered, lowering his sword completely.
"Pick up that book over there," Azriel commanded, his voice a low rumble.
Anastasia just picked up the large, leather-bound book, but nothing happened—no glow, no power surge.
"Place it back," Azriel commanded. Anastasia found it weird but did so anyway.
"Tell Sunshine that you don't have any magical powers and she could prescribe potions for you," Azriel said, the dismissal clear.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Anastasia said, curtseying again. She walked past Charles, but he reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her.
"Could you also tell Sunshine that I would love to have my potion right away?" Charles asked, a charming smile on his face.
Anastasia paused. She felt something weird the moment his skin touched hers—a jolt of energy, a flash of insight.
She stared him directly in the eyes, her head slightly tilted.
"Luke..." she said in a whispered, distant voice.
"What?" he asked, almost too audible, confused by her sudden change.
"Luke, tonight he would do something stupid," Anastasia said, her eyes unfocused, as if seeing beyond the room.
"He would use his powers to lock you away, to push you away, but you must find your way back to him."
"What would he do that I have to find my way back to him?" Charles asked, confusion turning to alarm as Anastasia's eyes seemed to glaze over.
There was a long, heavy pause before she spoke again, her voice a hollow, chilling whisper.
"..... He... He would kill himself tonight with his own powers. The same powers that he swore he'll use to help people in need.
Charles, you must stop him. If you don't, you will be miserable for the rest of your life."
Charles went pale as a ghost, the blood draining from his face. The casual atmosphere of the study evaporated into icy dread.
"What do you mean? What time would this happen?" Charles demanded, shaking her forcefully by the shoulders, desperate for more information.
Anastasia blinked twice, the vision receding, her innocent demeanor returning as she looked at the terrified man in front of her.
"Your highness, what are you doing?" she asked innocently.
"When would this happen?" Charles repeated, his grip tightening.
"When will what happen? Are you alright, Your Highness?" she asked again, clearly having no recollection of the prophecy she had just delivered.
Charles let go of her shoulders abruptly, the raw fear in his eyes contradicting his usual cheerful disposition. He stared at her for a moment, utterly shaken.
"If that would be all, then I beg to take my leave, Your Grace," Anastasia said to Azriel, who had remained silent throughout the interaction.
The Emperor simply raised his hand, gesturing for her to leave.
Once the door closed behind her, the silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Charles was visibly shaken by the news, running a hand through his hair. "What if she's not wrong?"
"Relax, she doesn't have any magical powers," Azriel said calmly, his gaze fixed on the spot where Anastasia had stood. "The book didn't glow."
"It might be a glitch! What if she is right?" Charles insisted, the vision of his brother's death playing out in his mind.
Azriel sighed, leaning back into his throne chair, trying to change the topic to something he could control—money.
"I will deposit a million gold coins into your account and hers. If she's right"