The Royal Talents were today. The atmosphere in the palace was a mixture of excitement and nervousness that could be felt in every corner. Servants ran back and forth, finalizing details for the big event, while the participants, dressed in their finest attire, tried to maintain their composure. But they couldn't fool anyone: everyone was eager to show off their skills and be recognized as the most talented in the kingdom.

  The event was divided into several categories:

  Art, which rewarded those who showed exceptional skill in painting, sculpture, or other artistic forms.

  Sports, a category that evaluated strength, agility, and dexterity in physical disciplines.

  Feminine, focused on talents such as singing, dancing, and crafts.

  Musical, which highlighted both vocal and instrumental performance.

  But the most anticipated and coveted category of all was General, which sought a man and a woman who excelled not only in a specific area, but in a combination of artistic and athletic talents and a series of special tests.

  Selene knew exactly what she was going to present. Since she was a child, she had devoted herself to archery, an art she perfected with every practice, but until now she had never participated in the Royal Talent Contest. It had always been her older sisters who competed, earning the praise of the family. This year, however, she decided it was her time. In addition to her skill with the bow, Selene had perfected another less expected talent: crochet. With this, she hoped to stand out in the women's category, showing a side of herself that combined strength and delicacy.

  Priscila, on the other hand, had decided to present two completely different sides of her personality. In the artistic category, she would perform a ballet piece she had been practicing in secret, demonstrating an elegance and discipline that few knew she possessed. For the sports category, she would compete in Muay Thai, a martial art she had learned in secret from the kingdom but with her grandmother's permission, defying the expectations of her position as a princess. It was a bold combination, reflecting her multifaceted character and her desire to stand out beyond royal conventions.

  Máximo, son of the influential Valois family, also had his performances clear in his mind. His artistic side would shine through in sculpture, a passion he had cultivated since childhood under the guidance of renowned artists. For the sports category, he would compete in swimming, a discipline in which he excelled for his endurance and impeccable technique. As a participant in the general category, he was ready to face any additional challenges the event might present.

  The General category not only measured individual talents in art or sports, but also subjected participants to a series of tests designed to measure their versatility and skills under pressure. These tests included:

  Running an endurance race to measure physical strength and stamina.

  Speed painting, where they had to demonstrate creativity and the ability to work under time constraints.

  Music, in which women competed by singing and men by playing instruments, evaluating not only technique but also emotional expression.

  Final race, where the best competitors from the previous tests faced off in a final challenge, eliminating the weakest until only two or three remained.

  The nobles who participated had something in common: competing was not enough for them. They wanted to win. For them, this event was not only a showcase of talent, but a way to reaffirm their position in the court. The rivalry was palpable, and the pressure to excel went far beyond the applause of the audience. Winning meant prestige, influence, and recognition from the royal family.

  Priscila watched the other competitors as she waited for her turn. She knew that Máximo would also be competing, and although she didn't say it out loud, she wanted to beat him in at least one of the categories. Máximo, for his part, maintained his usual calm, but there was a gleam of determination in his eyes that made it clear he would not take the tests lightly.

  Selene adjusted her bow and checked the details of her presentation with the same precision she put into every arrow she shot. Although she appeared calm on the outside, a voice inside her reminded her that this was her moment to shine.

  The audience began to fill the stands, made up of nobles, special guests, and, of course, the queen, who presided over the event with an analytical gaze. The anticipation grew with each passing minute, and the air was filled with excited murmurs.

  The Royal Talent Show was about to begin, and everyone knew that it wasn't just about showing off skills. For some, it was a chance to change their destiny.

  The day dawned early for all the participants and spectators. The Verona Arena, a majestic amphitheater that echoed with loud voices, had been transformed to host the grand royal talent competition. Flags of noble families waved high above, and the stone seats were covered with colorful fabrics to welcome the most important guests in the kingdom. The aristocratic families took their places in the preferred seats while the people crowded the upper stands, eager to witness the spectacle.

  The participants arrived shortly after dawn, their faces lit up by both the golden light of sunrise and the mixture of excitement and nerves they felt. Priscila, Máximo, and Selene knew that this day would be decisive, not only because of the titles and recognition they could earn, but also because each of them had something to prove.

  Ballet was one of the first competitions in the women's artistic category. Priscila was in the dressing rooms while her team of servants adjusted every detail of her white tulle dress. A discreet tiara adorned her head, and her makeup was flawless. Looking at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. This was her moment to shine, but the pressure was undeniable.

  When she stepped into the center of the arena, the murmur of the audience gradually died down. The music began, a soft prelude that echoed off the stone walls of the arena. Priscila moved with an elegance that seemed to defy the laws of time. Every step, every turn, every jump was a work of art in motion. The lightness of her movements contrasted with the hidden strength conveyed by her performance.

  From his seat in an upper balcony, Maximo couldn't take his eyes off her. His admiration was palpable, although he himself wasn't entirely sure why seeing her like this had such an impact on him.

  When the performance ended, the ovation was deafening. Priscila breathed a sigh of relief as she took a bow. However, when the results were announced, she came in second place, which sparked a small murmur among the audience. Although she maintained a polite smile, she felt a pang of discontent inside. She knew she had given her best and didn't understand how she hadn't won first place.

  As she returned backstage, Selene, who had been watching from the sidelines, didn't miss the opportunity to make a snide comment.

  —Second place isn't bad... for someone who doesn't aspire to anything more.

  Priscila maintained her composure, although her eyes sharpened. She responded with a serenity that hid the edge of her words.

  —At least I didn't have to try too hard to stand out. Good luck with your trials, Selene. You'll need it.

  The tension between the two was palpable, but before it could escalate, Priscila turned and walked away with elegant indifference.

  Hours later, it was Selene's turn in the archery competition. This was her domain, and she knew it. Dressed in a practical but refined outfit, she raised her bow with the confidence of someone who had mastered this art from an early age.

  Her initial shots were flawless. Each arrow found the center of the target with a precision that drew cheers from the crowd. One after another, the other competitors were eliminated, unable to match her aim. When it came time for the final shot, everything pointed to Selene being crowned the undisputed champion.

  However, something unexpected happened. Just before shooting her last arrow, Selene staggered. Her face, previously radiant with determination, turned pale. With trembling hands, she dropped her bow and bent over, vomiting in front of everyone. The audience fell into an uneasy silence as the judges approached. Before they could help her, Selene lost her balance and fainted.

  Doctors were called immediately, and as she was carried out of the arena, the judges announced that the runner-up would take her place on the podium. Priscila, from her seat, watched everything with mixed emotions. She didn't exactly feel compassion, but she didn't feel satisfaction either. Seeing her enemy in that state made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn't describe.

  In the afternoon, it was Máximo's turn in the men's artistic category. The task was to sculpt a marble bust within a time limit. The participants, dressed in simple clothes, stood in front of their blocks of marble while the jury explained the rules. Máximo, with a frown on his face and his hands ready, concentrated from the very first moment.

  Time was limited, and the heat inside the arena made the task even more arduous. However, Máximo worked with a confidence that only someone truly passionate could have. His hands struck and carved the marble with precision, removing excess material and revealing the first shapes of his sculpture.

  Priscila, who had decided to stay and watch, couldn't help but be impressed by his determination. From a distance, she saw him pause every so often to assess his progress, as if listening to the marble itself telling him what to do.

  When the clock struck the end, Máximo had not only captured the required shape, but had also given the face a vibrant, almost lifelike expression. The jury deliberated briefly before announcing him as the undisputed winner.

  From his seat, Maximo searched for Priscilla in the crowd. When their eyes finally met, he gave her a triumphant smile that seemed to say “We did it.” Priscilla smiled back, feeling a little proud of her friend. After such a tense day, that moment brought her unexpected relief.

  The sun's rays fell on the Verona Arena, bathing the fighters in light and making clear the intensity of the challenge ahead. For Priscila, this was a unique opportunity to show a side of herself that few knew. Muay Thai was not only a physical skill, but a discipline she had practiced in secret for years.

  In the preparation area, Priscila concentrated on her movements, adjusting the bandages on her hands with precision. She could hear the murmur of the crowd on the other side of the doors, a constant reminder of the expectations placed on her. She reminded herself to remain calm and focused. This was not just a physical confrontation, but a test of her mettle.

  When she was announced, the audience erupted into applause and surprised murmurs. The princess, known for her grace and regal bearing, was not the first choice in many people's minds as a contender in such a demanding sport. However, her determined gaze made it clear that she was there to compete.

  The format was elimination, and her first opponent was a young noblewoman of similar stature, with a stance that betrayed experience. Priscila advanced cautiously at first, measuring each move. The fight began with a rapid exchange of blows and blocks. When she saw an opening, Priscila reacted with agility, spinning on her axis and landing a direct blow to her opponent's torso, followed by a lock that ended the fight in a matter of seconds.

  The crowd rose in a roar of cheers, surprised by the princess's precision and speed.

  As she advanced through the rounds, the fights became more difficult. In the semifinal, she faced a heavily built man who tried to dominate her with brute force. Priscila, however, remained light on her feet, dodging quickly and wearing her opponent down little by little. Finally, she took advantage of a moment of imbalance to execute a leg sweep that knocked him down completely.

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  In the final, the confrontation was even more tense. Her opponent, a young woman known for her aggressiveness and refined technique, gave no quarter. The two exchanged moves with speed and precision, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats. Priscila blocked a blow that seemed inevitable and responded with an unexpected twist, landing a knee strike that destabilized her rival. She seized the opportunity to immobilize her with a lock, sealing her victory.

  The referee raised her arm in triumph, and the crowd erupted in deafening applause. Exhausted but satisfied, Priscila took a small bow before leaving the combat area. She had won, and with it, something more valuable than recognition: the reaffirmation of her own strength.

  Shortly after, it was time for the swimming competition, one of the most anticipated events of the day. An artificial pool had been set up in the Verona Arena, its crystal-clear waters glistening in the sunlight. The spectators, still excited from the previous rounds, were ready to watch the competitors face off in this test of endurance and skill.

  Máximo walked to the starting line, his imposing and confident figure drawing the attention of the crowd. Dressed in a dark swimsuit that accentuated his athletic build, he adjusted his goggles and glanced quickly at his opponents. He knew the event would be tough, but he was confident in his preparation and his connection with the water, which he had developed from a young age.

  When the starting horn sounded, the competitors plunged into the water. Maximo took the lead from the start, his flawless technique standing out from the rest. While some swam with desperate force, he maintained a steady, calculated pace, saving his energy for the longer stretches.

  The distance was considerable, and not all of the competitors were prepared for the intensity of the event. As the laps progressed, signs of exhaustion began to appear among the other swimmers. One by one, they dropped out of the competition, unable to keep up the pace.

  Máximo, on the other hand, moved with a grace that seemed almost natural. Each stroke cut through the water with precision, propelling him forward with a quiet but relentless force. The crowd, noticing that he was the only one left in the race, began to cheer him on with growing enthusiasm.

  When he finally reached the end and touched the wall, he lifted his head and removed his goggles, revealing a triumphant smile. He had completed the race, and he had done so with absolute mastery.

  The ovation was deafening. Max waved to the crowd with a humble gesture, but his eyes were searching for someone in particular. When he spotted Priscilla in the crowd, applauding with a proud smile, he felt a different kind of satisfaction. Winning was important, but sharing that moment with someone who really mattered made it even more special.

  The break was a necessary pause after the intensity of the individual competitions. In the backstage corridors of the Verona Arena, the participants shared their impressions and regained their strength before the final tests in the general category. Máximo was adjusting the gloves he would wear for the next round when he spotted Priscila leaning against a column while drinking water.

  He approached her with a calm smile.

  —Cil, you were incredible in Muay Thai. No one expected anything less from you.

  Priscila looked up, still flushed from the effort, and smiled back.

  —And you, as always, the king of the water. Congratulations on the swimming, Máximo. You didn't let anyone even get close.

  They both laughed softly, but there was a spark of tension in the air, not of hostility, but of the healthy competition they shared.

  —Now comes the hard part. — said Maximo, crossing his arms. — The overall category.

  Priscila nodded, her expression turning serious.

  —It's a real challenge. Combining different skills is more complicated than it looks, but... I trust my training.

  Maximo tilted his head slightly, assessing her with admiration.

  —That's what I like about you, Priscilla. You always push yourself to the limit.

  Priscilla let out a light laugh, looking away.

  —Well, I hope you like watching me win even more.

  He raised an eyebrow, amused.

  —May the best one win, then.

  They bumped fists in a gesture of camaraderie and friendly competition before returning to their respective areas.

  The track had been set up in the center of the Verona Arena, marked with white lines on the ground to indicate the lanes. The crowd was euphoric, knowing that the race would be the first filter to decide the finalists in the general category.

  The participants took their positions at the starting line. There was a mixture of nervousness and concentration on their faces, especially on Priscila and Máximo, who exchanged a brief glance before focusing all their attention on the sound of the starting gun.

  Bang!

  The gunshot rang out and the runners sprinted forward. Priscila set a steady pace from the start, letting others burn their energy trying to take the lead. Her legs moved with precision, her breathing controlled, as she analyzed the movements of her rivals.

  Maximo, on the other hand, stayed close to the front of the pack, using his endurance and physical strength to stay in the lead. His strategy was to stay among the leaders without wearing himself out too much, waiting for the perfect moment to accelerate.

  On the last lap, the real test began. Several competitors began to falter, slowing down or dropping out altogether. Priscila seized the moment to increase her pace, overtaking two runners who had been in the lead. Máximo, seeing her advance, decided it was time to give it his all.

  The two crossed the finish line almost simultaneously, along with four other participants who managed to hold on until the end. The crowd's cheers filled the arena as the finalists were announced.

  —You did it. — Máximo said to Priscila, breathing heavily but smiling.

  —We did it. — she replied, with a flash of pride in her eyes.

  The stage was set for the music test, one of the most anticipated by the audience due to its ability to reveal a more artistic and emotional side of the competitors. At this stage, the women had to perform a vocal piece, while the men demonstrated their talent with an instrument.

  Maximo was one of the first to take the stage. He sat down at the piano with apparent calm, although inside he knew this was a crucial moment. His fingers caressed the keys before he began to play a majestic piece that resonated loudly throughout the arena. The notes rose like waves, flooding the space with a mixture of passion and technique. When he finished, he received a standing ovation.

  Later, it was Priscila's turn. She took the stage with an elegant poise, and the murmur of the crowd faded instantly. Dressed in an outfit that highlighted her natural grace, she stood in the center and waited for the opening chords of La Traviata to begin.

  As her voice filled the space, each note carried an emotion that captivated the listeners. The sweetness and power of her performance seemed to transport them to another world. As she sang, Priscila kept her gaze high, showing that she was not only a princess but also an artist worthy of admiration.

  Maximo, from the side of the stage, couldn't take his eyes off her. There was something in her voice, in her presence, that took his breath away.

  When she finished, the ovation was deafening. Priscila curtsied elegantly, though inside she could feel her heart racing. As she stepped off the stage, she ran into Máximo, who simply said:

  —I've never heard anything so beautiful.

  Still recovering, she smiled gratefully back at him.

  —And I've never seen anyone play the piano with such passion.

  They both remained silent for a moment, until they were interrupted by the organizers for the next round. The connection between them, though brief, had left a mark that neither could ignore.

  The arena was transformed into a makeshift workshop for the painting competition. Easels lined up under an awning protected the participants from the sun. In front of each of them, a blank canvas awaited as a challenge to their artistic skills. Among the finalists were Priscila, Máximo, and Duchess Seraphina, a woman known for her skill with a paintbrush and her ability to capture the subtlest nuances of light and shadow.

  The challenge was to depict the majesty of the Arena di Verona in just one hour. The competitors were provided with a basic palette of colors and brushes of different sizes, allowing their creativity and technique to speak for themselves.

  Priscila immediately immersed herself in her work. Her initial strokes were precise yet bold, marking the main lines of the arena's architecture. She knew that her strength lay in emotional expression, so she focused her attention on capturing the vibrant atmosphere of the day: the sun's rays on the stone, the waving flags, and the energy of the crowd.

  Máximo, on the other hand, took a different approach. His experience in sculpture gave him a keen eye for proportions and perspectives, which was reflected in the detailed composition of his work. He focused on a specific angle of the arena, highlighting the monumentality of its structure and ancient history.

  Seraphina, the most feared rival, was a master at playing with light. Her canvas glowed with warm golden tones, and each brushstroke seemed to bring the amphitheater to life.

  When time was up, the judges moved from easel to easel, carefully evaluating each painting. Priscila took second place with her evocative representation of the atmosphere of the event, while Máximo took first place for his meticulous architectural perspective. Seraphina came in third, surprised that she hadn't dominated as she had expected.

  Priscila smiled as she approached Máximo.

  —Another victory for you. You're getting very used to it, huh.

  —And you keep surprising everyone, Cil. — he replied, returning her smile.

  The final test to determine the overall champions, one male and one female, was the final race. However, it was not a simple sprint; this year, the organizers had added obstacles along the course to measure not only the endurance but also the skill and strategy of the competitors.

  Six finalists, three men and three women, lined up at the starting line to the roar of the crowd. Among them were Priscila, Máximo, and Duchess Seraphina, a young woman known for her agility and cunning. Each was determined to take the title.

  The judge raised the flag. Silence fell over the arena for a brief moment before the starting gun echoed through the air.

  Bang!

  The competitors shot off like arrows, each focused on overcoming the obstacles ahead.

  The first challenge consisted of a series of barriers of different heights that the participants had to overcome by jumping. Priscila led the women's group, jumping with precision and speed, a skill honed by her training in Muay Thai and ballet. Máximo, for his part, used his strength to propel himself determinedly over the barriers, overtaking his male opponents.

  One of the nobles stumbled while trying to clear one of the highest barriers, losing valuable seconds and falling behind.

  The next challenge was a suspended rope bridge, designed to test the competitors' balance. Priscila crossed with light, sure steps, using her natural grace to stay steady. Duchess Seraphina tried to keep up, but lost her balance momentarily, though she managed to regain control before falling.

  Máximo, less elegant but effective, advanced with long, calculated strides, leading the men's category.

  The race took them to a wall covered with climbing nets. Here, speed and strength were essential.

  Priscila advanced quickly, overtaking Seraphina and securing her lead in the women's category.

  Máximo climbed with strength and precision, leaving his male rivals behind. One of them, exhausted from the effort, slipped and had to descend, leaving him out of the competition.

  The final stretch included a rope tunnel that the competitors had to crawl through. Priscila and Máximo entered at almost the same time, although they were leading in their respective categories.

  Seraphina tried to make up ground, but the effort of the previous obstacles was beginning to take its toll. Priscila, with iron determination, emerged from the tunnel first among the women, while Máximo did the same among the men.

  With the finish line in sight, both launched into the final sprint. Priscila left Seraphina behind, crossing the finish line as the undisputed winner of the women's category. Máximo, with his unbeatable endurance, overtook his last male rival and crossed the line shortly after.

  The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as the judges officially declared Priscila the women's winner and Máximo the men's winner. The two climbed onto the podium, exchanging glances full of satisfaction and pride.

  —Congratulations, champ. — said Priscila with a playful smile as she raised her trophy.

  —Same to you, champ. — Máximo replied, bowing his head slightly as if acknowledging her as an equal.

  Both raised their trophies to the sky amid the crowd's cheers, marking the end of a day full of challenges and showing that skill, strength, and determination were unmatched.

  The crowd's cheers were still ringing out when Priscila and Maximo stepped down from the podium with their trophies in hand. The two approached each other, exchanging a knowing glance and a hint of exhaustion after the arduous day.

  —You did it, Priscila. I always knew you would. — said Máximo, smiling sincerely as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

  —And you're not far behind, Máximo. I must admit, it was impressive to see you in that race. — replied Priscila, returning his smile, although her words carried a slight tone of friendly challenge.

  They both laughed softly. They had shared so many moments during the competitions that it now seemed natural to congratulate each other, although that connection did not go unnoticed by everyone.

  From a corner of the arena, Selene watched them with a frown and her arms crossed. The resentment was evident in her eyes, which followed their every move. Priscilla's smile, Maximus's naturalness when talking to her... It was all unbearable to her. She couldn't stand seeing her enemy enjoying her victory and, worse still, sharing that moment with Maximus.

  —This isn't over. — Selene thought as she turned abruptly, walking away from the crowd.

  Priscila arrived at the palace exhausted but with a sense of satisfaction she hadn't felt in a long time. The trophy in her hand was a tangible reminder of her effort and determination, something that made her feel proud, even though the day had also left her emotionally drained.

  Upon entering, she was greeted by one of the maids, who offered her fresh water and took her cloak.

  —Has any letter arrived for me? — Priscila asked suddenly, her tone casual but with a hint of hope.

  The maid shook her head gently. — No, miss. Nothing has arrived.

  Priscila frowned slightly. Before leaving, Leandro had promised to write to her as soon as he had the chance, something that had not happened yet. The lack of news was beginning to worry her, but she tried not to let herself be overcome by concern. Perhaps he had encountered some setbacks or was simply busy.

  —All right, thank you. If anything arrives, please let me know immediately.

  — Of course, miss.

  Priscila slowly climbed the stairs to her room, leaving the trophy on a nearby table before changing for bed. She lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind tried to sort through her thoughts. The echoes of the day still reverberated in her mind: the victory, Máximo's words, Selene's furious expression, and now the uneasiness caused by her half-brother's silence.

  She sighed deeply, closing her eyes as exhaustion slowly overcame her. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, although a slight shadow of uneasiness lingered in her heart.