There were two roads that lead towards the Rose Palace. The first was a large one for carriages, and the second, a smaller paved road for pedestrians. The larger road headed towards a large water fountain that lay in front of the grand doors of the palace. The fountain displayed stone fish jumping in the air, water trickling from their mouths.

The little road ran through a strip of garden. Beautiful white plaster arches lined its way, decorated with roses of different colours. Its pleasing scent and sight made the walk towards the palace an enjoyable experience. At least it would have, if I wasn’t so nervous.

Jarrel the under-steward was walking rather quickly. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, possibly trying to figure out what he should do with me. I was happy enough to be finally at the palace.

I wonder if I’ll be allowed to choose my own room. I hope so.

Mother often told stories of the Rose Palace to my sister and I. She had plenty from her stay during her own trial. At the end of each story, she told us that she didn’t want us to enter the palace. We told her we didn’t want to either, and that would make her happy.

But here I am now.

The double doors were wide open, but instead of going through them, the man turned into an archway that lead to another door. He opened it and ushered me through. It lead to a small but well lit hallway. The walls were painted a dark purple, and the floors had a soft black carpet. No decorations hung on the walls.

I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. It looks like the servants corridor. I should remember this, for when I need to sneak around.

“I… do apologise,” Jarell stuttered as we walked, twisting and turning down different corridors. “I know how unbefitting it is for one such as you to walk down this hallway, but you see, there are preparations to be done in the main halls, and well… I don’t know if it is advisable for you to … enter… in your um… shall we say… particular… state.”

I don’t know whether to be thankful or to feel insulted. But I suppose he is trying to save me from the gossip of the maids and other workers alike.

I shrugged, “it is of no concern to me. Just get me to my accommodations! I simply must take a bath. And some sustenance if you will, I haven’t eaten anything all day!”

Was that haughty enough? I hope it was.

“Yes, certainly my lady, we will see to it at once,” he said. “Um… if I may be so bold to ask my lady, but where is your… attendant?”

The rules of the Trial stated that I was allowed to bring with me one attendant from our residence. My sister had begged me to bring Martha when she found out, but I could not allow Martha to be taken away from her. Dusk could barely remember to feed herself. She would have sent Adare with me if he wasn’t already preoccupied. But I was glad he was away at the time. I would not have wanted to deprive her of his company as well.

Uncle would have allowed me to choose from a member of his staff, but I refused. I could not trust them to take care of me, and I did not trust them to not tell uncle my every move. Instead, I told him that I did not require anyone, and luckily he did not care enough for me to press the matter. If he had, I would have reminded him that my mother went without an attendant, and it would have been a good way to stand out from the crowd.

Dusk had warned me though, that if anything happened she would get Adare to come as soon as he was made available. She was so worried. But I reminded her that there would be maids around the place, and most importantly I could take care of myself. Certainly more than she could, I teased.

After what seemed to be a rather long walk, we finally stopped in front of a small door. Jarell stood still and looked through a peephole. Then he opened the door and stooped to get through. I was short enough that I did not need to. The door lead to a lavish long corridor. The wallpaper had a floral pattern. The carpet was a soft plushy dark green. Beautiful pictures hung from the walls on either side of the corridor. Even the doors that ran down the corridor were beautiful. Old oak wood, each door carved with a different flower.   

“The guest rooms, my lady,” he said, as he closed the door behind me. The door blended seamlessly into the wallpaper. There was only a picture of an elderly woman to indicate where the door was.

Huh. The peephole looks out the eye of the old woman. Very clever. But if this picture has a peephole, I wonder how many others have the same.

A small shiver ran down my spine. I then made a mental note to take off all the paintings in my bedroom if I found any, to check what was behind them.

“And where exactly are we?” I asked.

“In the North Wing, my lady. Here all the candidates and their attendants will reside.”

He scanned around the room, looking at a bit of a loss as to which one to put me in.

“Are the rooms not assigned?” I asked.

“Well, yes, they are supposed to be,” he admitted. He wrung his hands together, uncertain whether he should say anything.

“Well?” I asked angrily.

“However as the head steward is busy we have not yet done the room assignments” he quickly responded.

“Not yet done the- the trial begins tomorrow!” I said angrily stamping my foot.

“Fi-fi-final, preparations would have been do-do-done soon, my lady,” he stammered. “If you give me a minute to find-“

“No, I want my room now!” I said. A small glimmer of hope began to well up in my chest.

Maybe I can push him. Just maybe-

I felt a little bad for the man. I did arrive unannounced and too early. But, I was a daughter of Thorn.

“Do I have to do things myself?” I muttered. I fanned the invitation to my face, as though I was hot and bothered by all this fuss. “Well, do I have to see the Head Steward? Do I have to do some complaining?”

“N-o-o-o, please,” the under-steward said. “My lady, I…”

I sighed, then smiled at him. A gentle smile, but not too gentle. “Listen Jarrel, I know you and your little friends are all perturbed. I understand you have a lot of work to do. I suppose my early arrival has put a bit of a stick in your spokes.”

“No-o-o, of course not my lady,” the man said.

“No, no. I understand how it is. So, how about I choose my own room?”

“I beg your pardon?” He asked surprised.

“I choose my own room,” I repeated slowly. I looked around, admiring the paintings and the doors. “I suppose each door leads to their own private quarters?”

“Yes, my lady,” he said with a nod. “Each has their own separate reception room, sleeping room, attendant room and bathroom.”

“Alright then. It doesn’t matter where I choose then does it?” I said smiling as brightly as I could.

I knew that it did indeed matter where I slept. Each room location would have to be carefully chosen based on the participants. If a House that was an enemy to another were to end up in the same room, then the consequences may be dire. I knew that as the candidate from the House of Thorn, no one would want to be in the room next to mine. But to choose a location that was far away from everyone else, though pleasing to me, would be seen as a direct insult to my house. And yet, those who would be picked to be in the room next to mine, would be seen as a slight to them. The House of Thorn, barely had a single alley to its name. And I don’t suppose any one of them would have wanted their daughters to be competing against myself. Lest something untoward would occur.

Having to carefully pick sleeping arrangements was most likely why it took so long for the room assignments to be made. One must identify everybody who was coming to the Trial, and then check the different alliances and enmities among all the contestants. And checks must be made down to the very last second of their arrival. Alliances shift very easily after all. Who would want to take on such an arduous job?

And no one wants to be the one to accidentally mix up rooms and cause a disturbance. Or worse, cause a little accident.

Before the under-steward could answer, I quickly made my way down the corridor. The man hurried to keep up with me, wringing his hands along the way as he did. He was trying to find the words to stop me, but was not succeeding.

He reminds me of a squirrel.

I did not stop before I reached the very last room down the corridor. A door carved with a lily. I placed my hand on the door.

I know you. I know you from the stories my mother told. Mother’s room.

“This one,” I declared. “I want this one.”