ROYAL CONTEST

13| CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALYSSA'S POV

What was I thinking? I actually kissed a prince today! My mind keeps replaying the moment, the way his lips felt against mine, the unexpected warmth, the shock that coursed through my veins. I didn't know how to react to him after that; his nonchalant attitude was bewildering.

It seemed he enjoyed teasing me, his casual demeanour only added to my confusion. He made it seem so effortless, as if kissing him was something ordinary, something routine. But for me, it was anything but. I can't shake off the feeling of those few seconds, the flutter in my chest, the heat in my cheeks.

What if someone saw us? My heart pounds at the thought, anxiety gnawing at me. If someone did see it, how much of it did they witness? The full kiss? Just a glance? All the other girls could know by now, whispers and rumours spreading like wildfire through the palace halls.

I don't know how I'll be able to face the royal family if they learn about it. The queen, with her gentle eyes and kind smile, seemed to genuinely like me. She spoke of my mother every chance she got, recounting stories of her kindness, her grace and her unwavering strength. Each word was a reminder of the legacy I was expected to uphold, the standards I was meant to meet. How could I possibly live up to that image now?

The queen's admiration for my mother made me feel both proud and burdened. She saw my mother as a paragon of virtue, and by extension, she expected me to embody those same qualities. Everything I did was under scrutiny, measured against the high bar my mother had set.

I was to be the living reflection of her, a mirror image of her goodness and integrity. And yet, here I was, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and actions that felt so foreign to who I was, or at least who I thought I was. My mother never would have gone around kissing princes, especially not in such an impulsive, reckless manner. I have never done anything that would disappoint my mother in my life.

She would be disappointed in me, I'm sure of it. I've spent my entire life trying to live up to her example, striving to be someone she would be proud of. And now, in a single moment of weakness, I feel like I've undone all of that.

This isn't me, it can't be. I don't act on impulses like this. I've always been cautious, deliberate and careful with my actions and my heart. But today, all of that flew out the window.

Before I came here, I had told myself that I wouldn't be staying for long. It was a mantra, a shield against getting too attached, too involved. This place, these people, they were supposed to be temporary fixtures in my life, a passing phase. But now, with what happened today, it feels like I've lied to myself, like I'm being drawn deeper into the fabric of this place, entangled in its complexities.

And to think that I said those words to the very person I kissed today—Crown Prince Owen. The irony is bitter. It's going to be even harder for me to justify my actions, to explain how I could act so contrary to my own declarations.

I know he isn't a petty person; he won't hold this against me or throw my words back in my face. But still, how can I expect him to understand when I don't fully understand it myself? This isn't me. I've never been someone who acts so impulsively, so irrationally. This reckless, impulsive girl is a stranger.

I feel like I'm losing a part of myself, becoming someone I don't recognize. The kiss may have lasted only a moment, but its repercussions are rippling through every part of my being, challenging my perception of who I am and who I want to be.

The previous version of myself would never get near to a man, much less kiss him. Not because I was afraid of men or held deep-seated anxiety about getting close to them; rather, it was more about the lack of attraction, that invisible spark.

Boys had always been a mystery to me and a far-off fascination, but they had never captured my attention more than a quick glance. They were always there but never took centre stage in the symphony of my life.

And then there is Owen. Something changed the instant I laid eyes on him. He is unlike anybody I have ever encountered; he is a captivating combination of grace, charisma, and quiet confidence that captivates me like a moth to a flame. I was drawn to him so strongly that I nearly forgot he was a royal. Yes, he has a striking appearance with those piercing eyes and a carefree smile, but what really makes him stand out is his attitude and innate goodness. Being in his company is like inhaling fresh air after a lifetime of stuffiness in a crowded room because he is the ultimate gentleman and a rare jewel in a sea of mediocrity.

I do not want to lie to myself. I'm sure a girl could never wish for a more contented and serene life than she would have with him. I felt a sense of serenity that I hadn't realised I was lacking as I imagined myself by his side, sharing in the intimate moments and the exciting experiences. Owen doesn't give off the impression of being the kind to wander or betray the lady he loves. He exudes stability and dependability, which give me a sense of security and value. When it came to him, the notion of cheating was practically absurd, and that realisation was a huge comfort.

I also know that if I truly dedicate myself, I can win this competition with ease, and that victory would make my mother proud wherever she is.

But the cost of that victory weighed heavily on my mind. Winning the competition meant stepping into a role I wasn’t sure I was ready to embrace. It meant giving up my old life, the simplicity and freedom I cherished, and adapting to the rigid expectations of royalty.

The idea of learning to behave like a princess, of constantly being under scrutiny, was daunting. I had grown up valuing authenticity, the ability to be myself without pretence, and the thought of losing that scared me more than I cared to admit.

I'm content with my life as it is. The usual routines of my days, the minor joys and peaceful moments, and everything else that made up the colourful fabric of my everyday life were valuable to me. Even with someone as extraordinary as Owen, I didn't want to alter anything. It was okay to acknowledge that I was unique and that my goals and objectives didn't fit the conventional roles associated with royalty. I had always taken great satisfaction in my uniqueness and my ability to forge my own path, and this was no different. I felt as though everything I stood for had been betrayed by the idea of changing my entire life and bending to suit a mould that wasn't created for me.

However, it was impossible to deny the appeal of living with the crowned prince. A glimmer of a stable and loving future, it was a seductive potential. My determination and sense of self were being torn apart by a storm-like internal battle. How could I make sense of these two contradicting desires? The solution escaped me, evaporating like sand between my fingers.

"What are you doing here all alone? Have you seen the cooking schedule?" Clara's voice rang out with a cheerful cadence. She entered my room without waiting for an invitation, her presence as commanding as it was warm. Her eyes sparkled with an easy confidence, a reminder that she was very much at home in this grand, intimidating palace.

"Good morning, Your Highness," I replied, mustering a polite smile despite my inner turmoil.

"You can call me Clara. I hate it when people address me as Your Highness. If you don't feel comfortable using my first name, then at least call me Princess. At least that sounds like a name. How about that?" she suggested with a disarming smile, her tone light and friendly.

"I don't think it would be appropriate for me to call you by your first name, so I'll use Princess instead. What can I do for you?" I responded, trying to mirror her casual demeanour but feeling a bit stiff and formal in comparison.

"Well," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "I know you didn't like the clothes I sent for you, and I won't force you to wear them. I just wanted to be friendly, and I didn't know how you felt about being so different from the other girls." She paused as if gauging my reaction, before continuing. "That's not why I'm here, though. I wanted to ask if you're ready to make us dinner today and if you've seen the schedule or not."

"Making dinner? I had no idea, and I haven't seen the schedule yet," I admitted, my mind racing at this unexpected task.

"It's a good thing I came here, then," she said with a chuckle. "You'll be the first person to make dinner for the royal family today, and by the royal family, I mean everybody." She emphasized the word with a flourish, making it clear that this was no small task. "You can ask the organizers about the number of attendants so that you know how much to prepare and avoid making mistakes. No one is allergic to anything in this palace, so you can make whatever floats your boat."

My head was spinning with the sudden responsibility. The idea of cooking for the entire royal family and their attendants and guests was daunting, to say the least. "What you can do now is go to the kitchens and check if everything you need is there. If something is missing, tell the chefs, and they will organize everything for you," Clara continued, her tone both encouraging and matter-of-fact.

"Lastly, I know this is your first time preparing dinner for royalty, and you might feel like you're making a mistake with every dish. When that happens, try not to panic. Take a deep breath, and you'll be alright. You'll prepare a very delicious dish, I'm sure of it." Her words were reassuring, a lifeline in the sea of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Before I forget, if you need me, just ask anyone around to find me, and I'll come to you right away," she added with a final smile, her confidence in me unwavering. Her belief in my abilities was both comforting and terrifying.

I couldn’t help but smile at that, a small, genuine smile that crept up despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. Clara's unexpected kindness touched me deeply, and if I weren’t such a strong person, I might have cried right there in front of her.

It was rare to find such warmth and understanding within the austere walls of the palace. I didn't know what I had done to deserve such special treatment from her, but it felt like a beacon of hope, a lifeline in the swirling sea of my anxieties.

"Thank you so much, Princess," I managed to say, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat.

"You're welcome. I have to leave you now; I have something to do, and Junior is also waiting for me," she said, her smile lingering for a moment longer before she turned and left.

I knew the time would come when I’d have to prepare dinner for the royal family, but I didn’t expect it to arrive so soon. The reality of the situation hit me like a tidal wave, each thought crashing into me with relentless force. I hadn’t even considered what I would prepare for the royal family yet.

Whatever floats my boat, she had said. The phrase echoed in my mind. I began to sift through my mental notebook of recipes, trying to find something that was both impressive and familiar enough for me to execute flawlessly.

I knew I had to consider the tastes of the royal family, their preferences, and the need to create something that would not only satisfy but also delight them.

The more I thought about it, the more the anxiety ebbed, replaced by a focused determination. Cooking had always been my solace, my escape from the world's chaos.

As I went to the kitchens, I couldn’t help but think of Owen. The memory of our kiss lingered, a sweet distraction that flitted at the edges of my consciousness. What would he think of my cooking? Would he even notice? The thought of him tasting my food brought a flush to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and excitement.