“Girls, you both look stunning. Though, I do say, Elea, I’m glad you still have another year. You need to get over that gawky awkwardness you still possess to have a chance at the First Class. Luckily, Cyrene never underwent that, or else I would have been more nervous for her,” Herlana muttered unabashedly.
Elea’s cheeks colored in embarrassment. She had grown to a surprising height in the past couple of years and was having trouble adjusting to the changes that had accompanied such a growth spurt.
“Thank you, Mother,” Cyrene said, redirecting the full weight of their mother’s attention.
“Well, you’re not out of it yet.” She eyed her daughter up and down. “Why your father ever approved of that harlot-red color on you, I have no idea. You’ll be the only one wearing something so tawdry.”
“I’ll stand out then.”
“As if you wouldn’t already at your own Presenting,” Herlana huffed.
“I think she is a vision in red,” Elea said, defending her sister.
“Thank you, Elea.”
“Yes, well…she would do better in your green,” Herlana said. “Do you remember everything required?”
Cyrene gulped back her moment of fear. “Yes, Mother. The very words I must speak have been etched into my brain since infancy.”
“You’ll need to watch that mouth of yours. The King doesn’t take kindly to insolent subjects. Now, where is that husband of mine?”
“I’m right here, Herlana,” Hamidon called. Entering the foyer, he thumbed through a small stack of letters in his hand.
He was a bulky man of medium height with a stern, self-important air about him. Despite his aristocratic appearance, he dearly loved his four children and doted on them even when his wife would scold him about it.
“Good morning, my beautiful children.” Hamidon kissed Elea and then Cyrene. “The Royal Guard have arrived,” he said, turning to his wife. “Are the Gramms here yet?”
“Yes. They’ve arrived just now,” Herlana said. She gestured out the door where a pair of carriages pulled into the circle drive.
“Perfect,” he said, wearing a pompous smile. “Shall we depart?”
Cyrene’s mother and father paraded out of their house, and as she was about to follow them, Elea threw her arms around her older sister.
“Who is going to tend the garden?” Elea croaked.
“What?” Cyrene asked. She attempted to pry herself out of Elea’s grip.
“I’m certain to kill everything without you here.”
“Just remember to water, and the garden will be fine.” She couldn’t help her disbelieving giggle. “Really, Elea, you’re only going to miss me because of the garden?”
Elea looked back at her sister and shook her head.
“Ladies,” Herlana snapped as they stalled in the foyer.
The girls jumped at their mother’s voice and hurried out of the house. Royal Guard ushered them toward three magnificent horse-drawn carriages attached to black stallions. Her family sat in one with a pattern of interchanging blue and silver diamonds, the colors of Cyrene’s family house. The Gramms’ two carriages were striped in orange, brown, and gold.
Rhea was demurely seated in the Gramms’ second carriage. She waved at Cyrene as she approached.
Cyrene and Rhea had been born on the same day, and thus, they were a rare exception for a First Class Presenting.
Members of the First Class would have their children individually presented on their seventeenth birthday. Every member of the Second and Third Classes who had a child turning seventeen in that year would celebrate their Presenting on the same day as the Eos holiday. In honor of Byern’s emancipation, an enormous party would be thrown in the capital city each year, and all would be invited to attend the festivities.
Cyrene clambered into the carriage seat beside Rhea. “Rhea, can you believe it’s finally here?” She reached out and grasped Rhea’s hand.
“No.” The wavy wisps of Rhea’s dark red hair brushed against her back as she shook her head. Her forest-green gown was simple and light with flowing long sleeves and lace edging. It really brought out the green in her eyes.
“Me either,” Cyrene whispered. Her gaze shifted out to their surroundings.
The carriage pulled them forward through the inner city. Towering stone mansions lined the streets as they navigated the First Class quarters and headed for the immense Nit Decus castle carved into the side of the Taken Mountains.
Second and Third Class families lived nearest their occupational crafts. Seconds were prone to martial involvement as well as careers related to and assisting with guard services. Thirds were a mix of craftsmen, merchants, and farmers who performed essential functions to support the kingdom. Both Seconds and Thirds lived along the second tier of the city walls, farther down the rocky foothills of the capital city. Additionally, Seconds assisted with border protection, and many Thirds traversed the land for mercantile purposes or lived in remote villages, assisting in the daily functions of life.
The roads through the inner city were cobbled, and the two girls jostled lightly as they rolled higher and higher toward the castle looming on the horizon. It was a nearly impenetrable fortress forged from gray-and-black limestone carved out of the mountain. More than half of the colossal structure was hidden within the heart of the Taken Mountains. What remained visible was a glorious edifice with high peaked towers, arching railed bridges, and intricate stone masonry that had withstood thousands of years of wear.
The sight of the sky-high towers had been a fixture throughout Cyrene’s entire life, yet the grandiose structure always managed to elicit gasps of awe from her. As they approached, the girls gazed up at the impossibly tall barred doors.
“Do you think we’ll make the First Class?” Rhea whispered.
Cyrene looked at Rhea whose ever-present pallid complexion had only turned more ashen with fear. The touch of rouge on her cheeks couldn’t hide her waxen appearance. In the faint carriage light, her hands visibly trembled, a problem she’d had
