"That is why, on this precious night," he continued, "you will learn that the bride selection is not as simple as you imagine."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd again. Even Mother glanced at me, confusion flickering across her face.
"The kingdom," he said, voice firm, "will present a challenge to every maiden in this hall tonight."
He gave a slight bow of apology. "The King is not present, but we have permission to carry on as best fits the evening… as long as his son, Prince Nathan, son of the King of Valempire, seated high above, approves."
The general clapped his hands sharply. Seconds later, a man, badly injured, was dragged into the center of the room.
My soul seemed to leave my body the moment I saw him. What could he have done to deserve such torment? No human on this earth should be treated this way, no matter their crime. Judgment belongs to God alone.
But not in this kingdom, is it?
The general gestured toward the man sprawled across the cold marble. "By royal decree, one has committed a grievous crime against the crown. This man has stolen a gold ring from His Majesty himself."
A gasp ripped through the hall.
"How dare he?"
"How could he do such a thing?"
I raised a brow at how swiftly they passed judgment, how easily they condemned.
"You, maidens," the general continued, voice commanding, "are to advise the crown. What punishment does this man deserve?"
Ariel and I exchanged uneasy glances.
"I do not like how this is going at all," I heard Mother whisper beside me, her hand brushing against mine, slightly.
I fixed my gaze on the general. Did the king truly request this? And why does the prince sit like a statue, unmoving?
Then I looked up, and my eyes locked on his face, and I froze completely.
It was him. The same ill-mannered man I had collided with earlier. Oh, Jesus… No wonder he looked familiar. I am doomed. Truly, I am going to die before my time. What kind of cursed, relentless luck follows me?
Ariel saw my pale face and leaned closer. "Is something the matter?" she asked, her voice low but urgent.
Her words were enough to draw Mother's attention to me.
I shook my head quickly and forced out a small laugh that did not quite reach my eyes. "I am fine… Nothing is wrong with me."
Mother's brows furrowed as she studied my face, as though she could see straight through the lie resting on my tongue. For a moment, I feared she would press further. But she did not. She only nodded slowly, though the concern remained written plainly across her features.
Before the silence could stretch any longer, a maiden stepped forward from the crowd, her chin lifted high.
"My name is Lady Beatrice Hawthorne," she announced, her voice clear and unwavering. "And I believe the man deserves death."
A sharp murmur swept through the hall at her boldness.
"He stole from the King himself," she continued, her eyes flicking briefly toward the throne. "If such treachery is met with mercy, then what message does that send? That the crown may be mocked? That loyalty holds no weight? No. Theft against the throne is theft against the kingdom. He deserves death."
The hall grew still once more, her words hanging heavy in the air.
How could they jump to such a conclusion so easily? As though a man's life weighed no more than the fabric of their gowns. As though death were a word to be tossed around in a ballroom.
Before I could steady my thoughts, another maiden stepped forward, her posture stiff with pride. "I agree with Lady Beatrice," she said without hesitation. "Mercy in this case would only breed boldness in others. If he stole from the King, then he has declared himself an enemy of the crown."
A few nods followed, and soft murmurs of approval.
I felt my stomach tighten. Was there no room for reason? No pause for understanding? They spoke as though they had witnessed the act themselves, as though they knew the hunger, the desperation, or the foolishness that might have driven him.
But no one asked why.
They only asked how severely he should suffer.
"With all due respect," I began, my voice steady though my hands trembled slightly within the folds of my gown, "is death truly the only answer we can offer?"
The hall quieted. I could feel eyes turning toward me, curious, perhaps annoyed. "Yes, he has stolen from the King," I continued, choosing my words carefully. "And theft is no small crime. But is the value of a golden ring equal to the value of a human life?"
A few murmurs stirred again, this time uncertain.
"We stand here in silk and jewels," I said softly, yet clearly enough to be heard. "None of us know what desperation may drive a man to foolishness. Punish him, yes. Let the law take its course. But death…" I shook my head faintly. "Death allows no repentance. No correction. No chance for him to atone for what he has done."
My gaze flickered, against my will, toward the throne before returning to the man on the floor. "If justice is what we seek," I finished, "then let it be measured. Not merciless."
Silence followed my words. Lady Beatrice tilted her head toward me, her lips curving faintly, though there was no kindness in it. She was clearly displeased that I had dared to oppose her.
Her gaze swept over me slowly before returning to my face. "And whose daughter are you," she asked coolly, "that you presume to speak so boldly?"
A faint murmur rose again. "What gives you the right," she continued, her tone sharpening, "to think you may stand here and contradict me?"
I felt the weight of the room settle upon my shoulders. Even Ariel shifted beside me, tense.
But I did not lower my gaze. I kept my chin lifted, though my heart beat loudly against my ribs.
"With respect, Lady Beatrice," I said calmly, my voice neither raised nor timid, "my name does not determine the value of my words."
A few heads turned at that. "You asked what gives me the right to speak," I continued, steady and measured. "The same thing that gives you the right. We were all invited here as maidens to advise the crown. If our opinions are requested, then they should not belong only to those who shout the loudest."
The hall grew quieter. "I do not defend his crime," I added gently. "Stealing from the King is wrong. But justice should not be driven by pride or anger. It should be guided by wisdom."
I folded my hands before me to keep them from trembling. "If we are to be measured tonight," I finished, "then let it not be by how swiftly we condemn, but by how wisely we judge."