I struggle to keep my balance atop my heels as I approach the guard and hand him my invitation, my fingers trembling. He checks it and crosses my name off a list. Erin does the same, and we push through the crowd of young women that has flooded into the main entry hall of the palace.

Gilded cherubs line the walls on either side of the long hallway. A portrait of Cinderella hangs over a set of enormous double doors overlaid with gold lilies and the royal family crest. In the painting, she is seated with her hands delicately clasped in her lap. She looks serene, smiling gently. Her golden hair falls around her shoulders in tight ringlets. Wearing her iconic blue dress, she gazes at us, her shining hazel eyes reflecting the candlelight. She is watching us.

A pair of guards pull open the gold-framed double doors at the end of the long entryway. The rush of girls spills into the grand ballroom, but Erin stays by my side even though the tension between us remains.

The ballroom is as large as a field. Dozens of crystal chandeliers hang over the space, their light washing us in a warm glow. I can see my reflection in the ice-like surface of the polished marble floor. The smell of fresh-cut flowers permeates the room. An entire orchestra sits readying their instruments, and random notes float through the air as they prepare to play.

I can hear Erin sucking in quick gulps of air beside me. I want to comfort her even though she’d all but ripped my heart out. “Try to take a deep breath,” I say, quickly glancing at her.

She nods, slows her breathing, and readjusts her wig. The girls break off into groups, and I scan the room for Liv but can’t find her among the sea of ruffled dresses. I hope she’s been able to get to the palace on time. More girls than I was anticipating crowd the room, and each of them seems to be stunned by our lavish surroundings.

Just then, I am struck hard on the shoulder by someone walking past. I turn to see a girl glaring at me. I don’t recognize her, and I think for a moment that she is looking past me at someone else.

“Who do you think you are, wearing a dress like that?” she hisses.

“Excuse me?” I ask, bewildered at the hatred dripping from her voice.

“Cinderella’s dress? More like a cheap knockoff. You look ridiculous, but you probably couldn’t afford anything better,” she says, her breath shallow and eyes wide. Fear lingers just below the surface.

“Do I know you?” I’m growing angrier by the second.

She rolls her eyes. “No. But that’s because I don’t run in the same circles as peasants trying to steal the spotlight from the rest of us. Pathetic.”

I figured there would be men who might have something rude to say and that I would be required to keep my retorts to myself. I didn’t think that the harshest words would come from another girl.

“Sophia,” says Erin as she takes hold of my arm. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“Yes she does,” I say, shrugging off Erin’s hand and squaring up with the other girl. “Does it make you feel better about yourself to put me down?”

Her face flushes crimson. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re no competition.”

“Then why say anything at all?” I walk toward her and look her dead in the eye. “You’re just as afraid as the rest of us, so don’t take it out on me.”

“I know I will be chosen,” she says, her voice trembling.

“That’s exactly my point. Do you even know what that will mean for you?”

“My parents aren’t stupid. They’ve made sure I’ll come out ahead.”

She’s implying her parents either paid money to have her picked by someone specific or that a suitor has already purchased a claim on her.

“Do you think your money makes a difference?”

She glares at me. “I would expect someone like you to say money doesn’t matter.”

Erin tugs at my arm again.

“Money won’t keep your future husband from using you as he sees fit. And your privilege won’t keep you safe. You and I are exactly the same in the eyes of the king and the suitors.”

Her face pales a little. Regardless of her abrasive front, we share the same fears. A small crowd has gathered around us, a mixture of alarm, hope, and uncertainty in all their faces.

A trumpet blares. Everyone looks around, unsure of where to go or what to do as a throng of guards marches in, their boots pounding the floor, sending a shudder through the entire room. They push the girls into a line, positioning them so they all face the front of the room where a three-tiered platform stands, the king’s empty throne at the very top. It’s a massive seat made of gold, inlaid with rubies. A giant lion’s head is carved into the backrest, its mane designed to give its occupant the appearance of having a golden halo.

A squat guard takes Erin by the shoulder and shoves her into line. I step between them and push the man’s arm down.

“Don’t touch her.”

“Sophia,” Erin says, her eyes pleading. “Don’t.”

“Listen to your friend, little girl,” the guard says. A man nearly a foot shorter than me has the nerve to call me little.

He grabs me roughly by the elbow, shoving me into line next to Erin. I yank my arm out of his grip and scowl at him. He smells of sweat and cigar smoke.

“Feisty now, ain’t we?” He smiles, exposing every one of his yellow and rotting teeth.

“Leave me alone,” I say.

The man raises his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth turns up. He grabs my arm again, this time digging the tips of his fingers into my skin. If I act quickly, I can break his nose and run away before he has a chance to catch me. I ball up my fist and draw my arm back. The trumpets sound again, and he hesitates for a moment before letting go of me and walking away in a huff. I push away the tears, refusing to let them fall.

The atmosphere changes as the guards direct a line of girls across the grand ballroom. A palpable sense of fear descends as those who were excited to arrive soon realize that this is no happy social gathering. It isn’t even a well-disguised trap.

Erin stands silently, a big forced smile plastered across her face, her hands shaking. I purse my lips. I have to get us out of here. My arm throbs in time with my frantic heartbeats. Glancing around at the other girls, I finally spot Liv.

She wears a plain cotton frock, no makeup other than a bit of rouge on the apples of her cheeks. Her hair is draped over her shoulder, and a crown of baby’s breath encircles her head. She stares at the floor, and I watch her chest rise and fall in the rhythm of someone who is quickly losing her ability to pretend that everything is fine. She looks lovely, but as she glances up, I see only sadness in her eyes. She shakes her head, and I know that something has gone wrong. She hadn’t been visited by a fairy godmother, and her parents couldn’t afford to make other arrangements. Her gaze moves down the length of my gown and back up again. She smiles and presses her hand against her chest.

I swallow hard. I know what Liv will be facing if she isn’t selected, and my heart aches for her. The king might grant her a pass to work in Hanover or maybe even Chione, but that isn’t a solution as much as a punishment. The people there run workhouses where forfeits labor day and night with a small amount of compensation sent directly to their heads of household. I desperately try to find what Luke had called “an out” but can’t think of a single thing that doesn’t end up with us in prison—or worse.