The Shoe~lection

“Papa, please, don’t make me go,” a young woman appeared, skirts rustling as she trailed her father along a long hall.

A weary sigh escaped his lips as his strides continued to echo down the corridor, “My hands are tied, Elodia.”

“But I have no interest in the Capitol,” she attempted to explain as she hurried after him, “nor in marrying the King!”

“The Order has already been sent out,” he says, stopping abruptly before his study door.

She gasps, barely stopping herself from careening into his back before peering up at him.

He turns to meet her azure gaze, and sighs once more at the sight of her disheveled appearance.

She supposed she looked a mess, for as soon as Gigi had given her the news, she’d ran all the way downstairs. Though she was quite too overwrought to care about that at this the moment.

Her hands wring nervously, as she stares into her father’s eyes. “Papa,” she half-whispered, wondering if he could see the utter desperation on her face, hear it in her voice, pleading with him to let her stay home.

Obviously, he did, as yet a third sigh escapes him. He reaches out to hold her hands within his, “Dia, the statistical probability of you being selected is very minimal—"

“I know, but—”

He lifts a comforting hand to her cheek, “If you don’t want to marry him, just keep your head down, and you’ll be home soon.” He gently tucks a stray curl behind her ear, “It’s only a month.”

“A month too long,” she stares at him forlorn, clasping his other hand between hers.

Her gives a small shake of his head, “I don’t make the rules—”

She quirks a brow at him.

He pauses, giving a small chuckle as an arm goes up to rub his head bashfully, “Well, I didn’t make those rules. They were formed long before my time.”

The air escapes her lungs in a resolute sigh, hands folding into her dress, “Then, I suppose I shall do my best to endure.”

A few hours later…

“I don’t understand, Miss,” Gisette said, fretting over Elodia's auburn waves as she sat at the vanity, “You are of a marriageable age, your family is well-off—”

“Not enough so where they should desire me to be a Queen applicant,” Elodia complained, meeting the other woman’s gaze in the mirror behind her.

“You know your Father has no choice, all ranking Officials must send their daughters and—”

“I know,” she interrupted in frustration. “I know… but I was hoping that since Papa took a lesser Office out in the country after Mama…” She bit her lip, blinking back tears, “…that I somehow wouldn’t have to be a part of all this.” She leans her head down into her hands before squealing and sitting back up, “Ouch! Gigi!”

“I’m sorry, Elle! I mean… Miss!” Gisette frantically ties to remove the brush from her hair, “If you hadn’t been running throughout the house all day, you wouldn’t have so many tangles for me to get out.”

She sighs, reaching up to rub at the afflicted area of her scalp, “Gigi, how many times do I have to tell you? You don’t have call me “Miss,” you can address me as “Elle” like you always do.”

Gisette shakes her head at her, eyes wide with fright, “Oh no, El—Miss,” she quickly corrects herself, “I can’t. The new Madam has a wicked gleam in her eyes, and a sharp tongue that makes you feel like perishing on the spot when she reprimands you for breaking her rules.”

“Gigi, the Housekeeper doesn’t have more authority than me, and if I say you can—”

“Oh, look at the hour, Miss,” Gisette interjects, setting down the brush in a quick motion. “It’s off to bed with you now,” she continues, hurrying her to stand and make her way toward the bed, “it’s late and you must have a good rest for all the packing tomorrow.”

Elodia stares at her for a moment, very aware of the fact that she was deflecting, before deciding to leave it be. “Very well,” she replies, pulling down the sheets to crawl onto the mattress. “Have a good night as well, Gigi.”

“Thank you, E—Miss,” she curtsies, rushing out the door.

The door shuts with a resounding thud, and suddenly Elodia is once again left to the overpowering voice of her own swirling thoughts.

The Capitol… She lamented internally, bringing her arms up to wrap around herself in a useless attempt at comfort, I’d hoped to avoid that place forever…

She squeezed her eyes shut, hopelessly trying to push the memories back… but her attempts failed, for they were soon assailing her like a tumultuous storm.

Flashes pierced her mind like lightening; colors, music, voices, streets, laughter… a market…

A boy…

Her eyes flew open as she saw his face, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

It hurt to breathe.

“He doesn’t know,” she muttered aloud, rocking back and forth, “Papa, doesn’t know...”

…and he never will, she added mentally.

He will never know about that fateful day at the market, about the boy that helped her along the way, or about how he died right in front of her...

He will never know.

The next day…

Elodia wasn’t sure how or when she fell asleep, all she knew was that she awoke to the sunlight burning past her eyelids into her eyes.

Her nose crinkled as she stretched, throwing her arms up into the pillows above her. Thankfully, she’d had a dreamless night.

“Gigi,” she asked groggily, as she heard items being tossed about the room, “is that you?”

“Yes, Miss,” she responded, continuing whatever it was that she was doing.

Elodia slowly peels her eyes open and sits up to take in her surroundings. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping for the blurriness to go away and full sight to return.

Gisette appeared to be in her closet, throwing out dresses and nightgowns and shoes…

Her eyes go wide, shoes!? She jumps up, stumbling out of bed over to Gigi’s side, “You don’t have to pack a lot of shoes, Gigi.”

“Why, Miss?” She stares at her confused, “You’ll need at least ten pairs for all of the festivities.” She begins to count on her fingers, “There’s breakfast, morning brunch, teatime, dinner, dances—”

“Ahh, just stop!” She demands, throwing her hands out in front of her.

“But, you also need a pair for the Shoe Showing—”

“Absolutely not! You’re only required to do that if you make it beyond the half-way point of the Stay at the Palace.”

Gisette’s green eyes gazed at her quizzically, “Do you not think you’ll make it past Introductions, Elle?”

“No!” She pauses, hands moving to her hips and then hair in exasperation, “I mean, I just… You don’t have to over-trouble yourself, Gigi. I plan to have a quiet, simple time at the Palace and return home to you all quickly.”

“But—” Gisette starts to say.

“No,” Elodia shushes, shooing her away. “Go on now, I’ll take care of this.”

“But, Miss—"

“No arguments, Gigi, go do something else for awhile.”

Gisette stands still, holding a pair of stockings as she stares at her with worry.

She heaves a sigh, breaking the silence, “If the new “Madam” says anything to you, just send her my way.”

She nods slowly, placing the stockings on top of the dresser, “Alright.” She begins to walk to the door before turning back, “I’ll return in an hour.” Her tone spoke of no arguments.

“Very well,” she agreed, “I’ll see you in an hour, Gigi.”

After she left, Elodia took her time to observe her closet and the open luggage awaiting to be filled.

“How glorious,” she mumbled to herself.

She stepped closer to her closet, and knelt down, knowing what she’d find hidden at the very back.

She reached in and pulled out a lovely pair of teal shoes. Pink and purple flowers embroidered the sides, with a few blue butterflies sewn in. They were obviously handled with care, yet still showed a few scuffs of wear and age.

Her fingertips traced the thread, as tears filled her eyes. She’d outgrown them a long time ago, yet desperately wished they’d still fit her feet.

She closed her eyes in remembrance.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be out in the market alone?”

“Well, as a gentleman… I shall escort you this afternoon, my lady.”

“It seems that birthday wishes are in order, as well as gifts.”

She could hear her own laughter echoing in response to his words as her eyes re-open on a shuttery breath, “Seven years is a long time, isn’t it?” She wipes at tears on her cheeks, “Perhaps, it’s time to face the past, and leave it there.”

Three weeks later…

“Elle? E~lo~dia,” a voice sing-songs, then demands, “are you even listening!?”

“Huh,” her head swivels to meet the gaze of her new friend, Cynthea, and grimaces guiltily, “I’m sorry, Thea, I guess I got lost in my thoughts.”

“You do that often, don’t you?” Questioning brown eyes await her answer.

“I guess so,” she replies, shrugging, “or at least, here I do.”

Thea shakes her head in disapproval, “I was talking about our Shoe Selection, we’ve made it this far, so it should be coming up literally any day. What ones are you putting out for the King to see?”

“Does it matter?” She asks, staring at the silver patterns in the walls of the tearoom they currently occupied.

Thea gasps, taken aback that she would say such a thing, “Yes, of course it does! Whoever’s shoes are selected gets to meet the King!”

“Yeah, so?” Elodia, inquired tiredly with a wide yawn.

“I can’t believe this!” She rants, “There are only five women chosen to meet the King and you don’t even care!?”

“No,” she deadpans, staring her straight in the eyes.

Thea lifts a pillow, “If you were anyone else, I’d fight you, Elle.”

Her eyes roll, “You’re so dramatic, Thea. Don’t you want to marry the King?” She pulls the pillow from her hand to return it to the settee, “I’m your competition. You shouldn’t want me to make it to the Meeting after the Shoe~lection.”

“Haha,” she says, trying to hold back a laugh at her joke, “I like having you here as my friend, even if you’re not interested in His Majesty.”

“I know…” She admits, before a small smile frames her lips, “I’m glad to have made such a wonderful friend as well.”

“Aww, Elle!” Thea leans in close to pull her into a hug.

“Ugh! Thea!” She grumbles, “You’re yanking at my hair!”

Merry laughter fills the air, “It’s not my fault your hair’s so long!”

Later that day…

“What I really need is a nap,” Elodia mutters to herself, “these late-night balls… Contests? I don’t know what they are, but they’re wearing me out.”

She strolls through the gardens, following the carefully laid stones beneath her feet as she allows her fingers to brush against the different flower petals and leaves.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” she confesses softly, taking a moment to admire a cluster of indigo flowers. A deep breath fills her lungs as she rests her eyes for a few seconds, appreciating the whistling birdsong and rustling trees.

Thea’s right, she internally acknowledges, I need to have a pair of shoes prepared to sit out. Nothing extravagant, but a normal pair of shoes any other girl would submit for the Shoe Selection.

Her eyes open, brow furrowing as a nagging thought enters her mind. “Who even came up with such a thing as to pick a bride based on her shoes,” she puzzled aloud.

“That would be my great-great-grandfather,” a voice replied seemingly from nowhere, albeit somewhere around her.

“Ahh!” She screamed, hands flying to her chest.

“…but perhaps there was another great in there somewhere, I can’t quite remember,” the voice continued on as if nothing had happened.

“Sir!” She exclaimed, breathlessly indignant, looking around for the man belonging to the voice, “Do you not know to announce yourself when a lady is present?”

“I thought I did so when I answered your question,” his retort coming from a rather large line of bushes, almost tall enough to be a hedge maze.

A squeak slips past her lips, “Please tell me you are not sitting in a bush.”

“Now that would be something, wouldn’t it?” The sound of something closing reached her ears, “Royalty in the shrubbery.”

Royalty? Her blue eyes grow huge. She staggers a step back, so far that she’s almost standing in the roses behind her. Surely not the King…

“Actually, I’m sitting on a bench and reading a book.” Said book is then raised high enough into the air that she can see it, along with a glimpse of his hand and wrist.

“Oh,” she stutters out, “then I’m sorry to disturb you, I’ll leave you to your reading.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply, quickly glancing around and making a mad dash down the stone path back into the safety of the Palace walls.

Two days later…

“These are the names of the applicants chosen to meet the King tomorrow…”

Elodia stood in the line of simpering ladies praying their name would be called, as the Announcer droned on for what seemed like forever.

Why so much fanfare for only five women? She inwardly cringed, How much longer will this last? We’ve been here listening to this speech for twenty min—

“Elodia Vuèn.” She was immediately ripped from her ponderings as clapping filled the room.

“Ladies, these are the five women selected, congratulate them and say your farewells, for all of the Unselected will be returning home on the morrow.”

She stood there, frozen in shock at the man’s words.

“Elle! Elle, we did it!” Thea ran up to her, grabbing her arms while jumping in excitement.

“Chosen…” she wheezed out, bewildered, “I was… chosen?”

“Elle, on my goodness, you look positively dreadful! Are you alright?”

“No,” she croaked out, “no, I’m not.”

“Come now,” Thea said, linking her arm through hers to guide her, “let’s take you to your room.”

Elodia bobs her head numbly and follows.

Hours later…

“I don’t understand," she mumbled, voicing her swirling thoughts to the lone room as she frantically paced, "I sat out a normal pair of shoes in front of my door for the Officials to collect for the King… they were pink and standard and ordinarily obvious as to what the other girls would’ve submitted...”

And they were hideous to her, overly bright and gaudy, nothing she’d every wear herself and they were… here.

Her mouth dropped open at the sight of those exact shoes, peeping out from underneath her bed.

“No…” she exhaled, shaking her head. “No, no, no…”

Elodia raced to the pick them up and inspect them, for if they were here, she couldn’t have gotten chosen for the Shoe Selection. She lifted them, turning them this way and that, trying to connect dots that she didn’t know would need connecting.

They were the pair she’d sat out the night before.

“How?” She blinked rapidly, I don’t understand, how could I be chosen if the shoes weren’t taken?

Pivoting around the room, she tried to notice if anything looked different, if there was some sort of revelation that could make everything make sense.

Then she noticed something, a small piece of fabric hanging from one of the closed edges of her luggage. The lid creaked as she lifted it and immediately realized what had happened.

Someone had taken her shoes… but not just any pair, not a normal pair she’d never miss, but the one’s that she'd impulsively brought with her to the Palace. The one's that’d been gifted to her by a boy whose name she’ll never know.

Her legs give out and she collapses to the floor, sobs arising to shake her body.

Out of everything dear to her, why those? She didn’t even know if she could get them back.

Before she knows it, she’s there again on that day, seven years ago…

The market was boisterous, the buildings were colorful, and music was being played by minstrels and the like. Heat poured down from the sky, but the cool breeze made it pleasantly bearable. There were so many stalls of goods to look at and the possibilities were endless.

She was at one of those stalls when someone came up behind her.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be out in the market alone?” An inquisitive voice asked.

She turned around before responding, seeing a boy who looked to be about her age. He had charcoal colored hair, and beautiful almond shaped eyes that were the color of chocolate delights.

“I’m fourteen…” she responded. “Well,” she paused a moment before grinning as her eyes twinkled, “tomorrow.”

An immediate smile graced his lips, “So you’re thirteen... until tomorrow?”

He laughed as a pout instantly framed her mouth.

“Practicalities,” she muttered under her breath.

“But where is your maid? Or... parents?” He asked curiously, angling his head to scan the surrounding area.

“I ditched them,” she admitted with a mischievous giggle.

“Ahh,” he said, coughing back a chuckle. “Well, as a gentleman, already fourteen…” he moved his hands to fix his jacket, “although almost fifteen in three months,” he paused dramatically and met her gaze, “I shall escort you this afternoon, my lady.”

He then bowed, thus ending his speech.

She blinked at him owlishly before responding with a laugh, “How formal.” She gave him a once-over before relenting, “Very well, I’ll allow you to accompany me today.”

An eyebrow raised at her audacity before he teased her, “How gracious of you, milady.”

She rolled her eyes before shoving a woven bag into his arms, “Here, carry this.”

They continued around the shop stalls, her leading the way as he followed her.

“So, may I ask what exactly you’re doing?” He finally asks her as they stand at the third stall she’d led them to.

She proceeds to buy more baubles and random items before putting them into the awaiting bag he carried, “Shopping.”

“I gathered that,” he said ironically, giving a slight shake of the sack, “the increasing weight of this bag speaks for itself.”

“Very funny,” she said with a snort, “I’m buying things to give to the children at my home in the country, as well as the orphanage in the village there.”

Unbeknownst to her, he stares at her for a long moment, “That’s very kind of you.”

She smiles at him, and proceeds to finish her purchase.

They go to two more shops before taking a break and sitting beneath a nearby willow tree. He briefly disappears to get a snack and returns a short amount of time later.

They comfortably eat and chatter for awhile before he puts his hands out, “Here.”

“What’s this?” She inquires, lifting her hands to take item he’s holding.

“It seems that birthday wishes are in order, as well as gifts.”

Surprise lit her eyes, “You didn’t have to…”

“But I wanted to,” he replied with a smile, “You don’t seem like the type to tie ribbons in your hair—"

Her nose crinkled in distaste, “You are correct.”

He laughed at her antics and continued, “So I got you these. Open them.”

She beamed as she opened the box and saw a pair of teal shoes, “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

Elodia gasps, sitting straight up from the floor where she must have fallen asleep.

The rest of the memory races through her mind as she remembers parting ways with him, and then turning back to ask his name… only to see him in a sword fight with two other men at the fair end of the street… and an arrow suddenly flying from the top of a nearby building and hitting him… him falling to the ground as a frantic crowd pulls her farther and farther away as she screams…

She comes back to herself, giving her head a rough shake and standing, “I have to get them back,” she decides, determination rising within her. “When His Majesty calls me to meet him, I’ll just explain and ask for the shoes back.”

The next day…

Elodia stood nervously before the King in her allotted private audience, eyes staring at the cerulean carpet beneath her feet.

“It seems that we’ve finally found you,” a deep voice states suddenly.

She blinks, startled, “I’m sorry?”

“My brother’s been searching for you for a long time.”

She swallows, “Who, may I ask, is your brother?” Did the King have a brother?

“Me.” A familiar voice fills her ears, as she finally looks up to see...

“You,” she begins, momentarily halting as she takes in his features. Hair dark as night, brown almond eyes… She gulped, squashing such an absurd thought, “A-Aren’t you the man from the garden the other day?”

He chuckles, abashed, “I do admit that was me, but my brother wasn’t talking about that.”

“Your brother,” she asks dazedly.

“The King,” he gestures to the man sitting on the throne.

“Oh.”

“He was talking about this,” he tells her, pulling out an oh-so-familiar pair of shoes.

She gasps at the sight of them, her gaze jerking up to meet his.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“You… you have?” Elodia breathes, quelling the urge to pinch herself.

“Yes.”

“Are,” her breath hitches unevenly, “Are you really him?” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, “Are you really the boy from the market?”

He walks closer to her, but stops few feet away, “I am.”

“I-I thought you were dead, I searched the papers on news of you,” she cries, tears making their way down her face.

“Well, it appears that I survived and am here now—”

He’s abruptly cut off as she closes the last bit of distance between them and hugs him tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she sobs into his chest.

His arms fold around her, “Me too.”

“But, you’re a prince?” She pushes back away from him enough to look him up and down, “Then what on earth were you doing out in the market that day?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief, “I was doing what you were; ditching my brother.”

A laugh bubbles up at the memory.

Then he proceeds to kneel before her, “I do believe that I have something to return to you, milady.” He puts the two shoes on the ground and reaches for her foot.

She lets him take off one of her slippers before she confides, “I’m afraid they don’t fit anymore.”

He gapes up at her in shock, “You know, I didn’t think of that…”

She giggles, “It has been awhile since you gave them to me.”

“I know a remedy for that,” he declares, standing to his feet and lightly placing the pair into her hands, “I’ll just have to buy you another.”

“That would be lovely—” She abruptly pauses.

“What? What is it?” He inquires gently.

“I just realized I still never got your name?”

He smiles, “Hyeon. It’s nice to officially make your acquaintance—”

“Elodia,” she grins back, knowing he paused for her to share her name as well.

“Elodia,” he says, testing it out, “Dia. It suits you.”

“Come now,” another voice interjects from across the room, “as happy as I am for Hyeon, I have quite the conundrum going on about finding myself a Queen.”

Elodia and Hyeon stare into each others eyes before chuckling.

She smiles wide, turning toward the King, “You know, I think I may know someone you might like…”