Celia
I stared open-mouthed at the TV, as the photograph of myself faded from the screen. I glanced at my mother for confirmation, only to see that she was screaming and hugging my father.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She was almost crying with happiness, not seeming to believe what we had just heard.

I had swiftly put my name forward for the selection as soon as the opportunity presented itself. It was a dream come true for me to go to the palace.

When I was a child, I had wrapped bedsheets around myself, and placed a necklace on my head, pretending that I was a Princess. I had put in some of my mother's nicer shoes, stuffed with socks so that they fitted me, and paraded around our small house as if it were a palace.

I had always held onto the dream that one day, I might be able to go to the palace. Just to set foot in the palace would mean the world to me. And now here I was, about to go and live in the palace, and potentially become a Princess.

I had never even dreamed that I might be the one chosen. I had been sure that it would be Sophie, the beautiful daughter of the bookkeeper down the road, or Deliah the schoolmaster's niece, or anyone but myself.

And here I was, one of the selected.

My mother ran across the room, and pulled me into a tight hug, "oh Cece!" She cried, "you're going to be a princess!"

"Mum, there are still sixty-nine other girls who it could be," I laughed, but I couldn't keep my excitement from her voice.

"Yes," my father smiled widely, "but not a single one of them is as beautiful, as resourceful or as talented as my daughter," he said proudly.

"Princess Celia Schreave," mother smiled, and released me, "oh it just sounds right!"

The phone rang, for what must've been the fiftieth time in the few minutes since my name had been announced.

Mum's smile didn't waver, as she bustled off to answer the phone.

********

The next week was a flurry of activity. I was interviewed by about seven different newspapers, spoke to a million different palace officials, including General Ledger, the chief of the palace guard, who spoke to me and my family about the security arrangements for my time at the palace. General Ledger seemed friendly, but his limp was a reminder of what he had given up in the past to protect the royal family, and what I'm sure he will do again to save them.

I had many phone calls from a woman named Silvia, who said that she would be my teacher during my time at the palace. She assured me that I was in safe hands, as she had taught Queen America during her selection, and, "look at her now!"

I was measured for my new wardrobe, and given nutrition tablets because the palace wanted all of the daughters of Illea, even the poor ones, to be healthy.

I hardly found any time to myself, but the time that I did have I spent outside among my flowers. Before the casts were eliminated, my family would have been sevens. In their younger days, my parents had tended the gardens of the upper castes. When the casts were dissolved over twenty years ago, my parents were able to start their own gardening company, which had grown quite rapidly, allowing them to continue to do what they love, but make some more money out of it.

From a young age, I had been taught the love of plants and the natural world. I nurtured my plants the way my father had shown me.

I sat among my flowers thinking about how much I would miss being outside during my time at the palace. It was going to be very strange not being able to go outside whenever she pleased, being trapped within the palace walls was going to take some getting used to.

Before I knew it, the morning that I was supposed to depart rolled around. I was issued with a white shirt and black trousers to wear on my journey to the palace. My mother brushed my hair for me, I could tell that she was trying to hold back tears.

"Don't cry, mum!" I turned to look at her, "I'll write letters, I'll call and you'll see me on the report!"

"I'm not sad honey, I'm happy!" She wiped away a few tears, "I'm so incredibly proud of you."

I smiled, and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly.

"Now c'mon, we've got to finish your hair," she turned me back to back the mirror, and ran her fingers through my hair, before combing it through. My hair was long, it fell almost to my waist. My mother always said she loved the colour of my hair, it was a fiery red colour, full of different colours. My parents always said it made me look vibrant and full of life.

"I think you should wear it down," mum said, after brushing it through a few times, "your hair looks beautiful when you wear it down."

I pulled it all over one shoulder. I was ready for whatever the palace threw at me. Bring on the selection.