Prologue

The kingdom of Eber Nari was a sun kissed country bordered by mountains, deserts, and oceans. The land was said to be 'the kiss of God'. Its ruler, King Tamir, could be described by anyone as simply 'a good king'. His reign was peaceful, his nation was prosperous, and the people were well-fed. Justice was fair and the beauty of the ancient world was allowed to sleep in scenic grace among the modern days.

If there was any complaint to be made of him, it would be his eccentric sense of humor. If anyone were to make that complaint, it would be his sons.

King Tamir was the definition of robust. He was tall, heavily muscular, and only the glint in his eyes and well-defined laugh in his face gave any hint to his true age. With his deeply tanned brown skin and dark head of bed tousled curls, he was as much of the land as if he were an olive tree come to life. His vice, aside from his capriciousness, was women.

He had a large harem of available women but from among them, there were only six sons who were suitable to succeed him once he left the throne. He was in no hurry to do so but the topic of succession made the kingdom antsy. To alleviate them from this burden, and him from his boredom, he devised a great game. As he saw it, a king was not made from his kingdom but from the love of a woman. So with scheming eyes and a smirk, he set his plan into motion.

"So this is the thief that seeks to end my dynasty!?"

He stood tall in indignation as he roared at the shaking young woman before him. It was taking everything in him not to laugh at the pitiful creature. He had reached far across the globe to pluck the most beautiful flower he could find. What came to him was indeed a rare and exotic blossom.

She was as warm as the foreign land she came from. Her dark brown skin called to mind the amber glow of honey. Her eyes were a darker brown, nearly black. They welled with tears at this moment and shined like pearls. The shape of her face and button nose were round with girlish charm, but such features like her full lips, long eye-lashes, and wide cheekbones gave her a woman's appeal. The amazing mass of hair that fell in tightly winding curls down her shoulders and the softly plump curves of her body only made him want to do two things; the first was gingerly pat her on the head and the second was drag her off to his bedchamber for a not so gingerly induction to his harem. His plans always seemed to have a way of backfiring that way.

"You are in front of his majesty so behave yourself, girl!"

Though it was meant as a whisper, the malice those words carried had reached even his ears. Standing just aside her and holding tight to her upper arm to bar her escape, was the royal housecarl, Ivan.

Although Ivan was younger than the king, his majesty could hardly remember a time when he hadn't been around. He was a stern man with a grim decorum. Absolutely no one tied their laces straighter than him. He was dutiful to the bone and marrow, and was efficient in his work to the point of being terrifying. He was the straight man to the king's every joke, even when he was the butt of it.

He too was tall and surprisingly fit though none would know it. His black suit hid sharp edges in crisply pressed shadows while the fine stitching and faint texture created walls. His long black hair was combed straight back aside from a strand here and there that defied conformity. On the bridge of his nose sat a pair of pince-nez glasses. The frames were held in place by a long thin gold chain that draped down his chest. Though Ivan protested every time, his majesty would always jokingly insist that it was called a 'double monocle'.

The young woman stood before the throne with shaking knees and her hands cuffed behind her back. On her wrist was a heavy gold bangle inlaid with pearls, rubies, and emeralds. Her eyes were wide in confusion and fear. His majesty was sure Ivan's mere presence wasn't helping.

"You've stolen from the royal house, a crime punishable by death," Ivan added.

Understandably, she jumped at those words and immediately started protesting. She was cut off as the king sprung from his throne, snatched her from Ivan's grasp, and defensively took her into his arms like a coveted toy.

"Now wait a minute, Ivan," he said, while patting her head. Step one was complete. "You're terrifying her!"

Ivan stood aghast, speechless from exasperation. From the way the girl stood stock still, it was clear that the king's affections were by far scarier than anything he had said. The king gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. He cleared his throat as he tried to regain his former character.

"That bracelet you hold is a family heirloom," he explained. "Just how did you come about it if you didn't steal it?"

"Some guy threw it at me," she shouted in desperation. "I was just getting off the bus at the airport and some guy took my luggage and hit me with it! I tried to take it to the police and they shoved me in a car and brought me here!"

"That sounds plausible," said Ivan in a huff of sarcasm, "for something entirely made up. Your majesty, you surely don't believe that story?"

"I totally believe it," he said with a nod as he folded his arms. "Uncuff her, Ivan."

Ivan began to object but stopped and gave a sigh. "Right away, your majesty."

He knew better than to argue. The truth was that he should've known better than to hold the king to any standard in the presence of a pretty woman. He pulled a keyring from his pocket and chose one from the many it held. He unlocked the handcuffs and neatly placed them in his pocket. He the rubbed his own wrists as if he shared the stinging pain she had just endured.

"The truth is," continued the king, "whosoever possesses that bracelet holds the right of succession to the throne. Even if you did steal it, that fact doesn't change. So," he leaned in close and stared deep into her eyes as he tried to create an intimate moment, "want to return that bracelet to me and become my wife instead?"

"Your majesty, if you'd please!"

He backed off when he felt Ivan glowering him. The woman herself was frozen in fear as she let out a meek 'no thank you'. Well there went step two.

"I'm just kidding," he laughed. Then with a wink he added, "but let me know if you change your mind."

Before Ivan could chastise him again, he bellowed "call my sons!"

Ivan gave a bow and disappeared immediately after. He returned just as quickly followed by six young men of different ages and ethnicities. For a moment, the young woman wondered just how he could have sons who all looked so different from each other. Then she remembered he did say he had many wives after all. The young men lined up in no particular order and looked at her, then to their father expectantly.

"Ahem, listen well, all of you. This young lady here, uh... your name, girl?"

"Alex," she answered.

"She holds in her hands the choice of picking the future king," he continued, ignoring her name completely.

While all the young men looked bewildered, the first cry of outrage was the most passionate.

"What!?"

It came from Prince Lambert. He was the first in line to the throne even though he was the second born. He was fair skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes. His fanciful dress made him look like a prince from an European fairy-tale. His commanding presence made it obvious why he was everyone's first choice. Because of this, he often acted as if he were king already.

"Father, just what are you up to," he shouted.

"That bracelet on her wrist, whomever she gives it to will succeed my rule. It's an ancient family custom," explained the king.

"This is the first time I've heard of anything like that..."

Standing with one arms crossed and a finger thoughtfully pressed to his chin was Prince Chezem. Like Alex, he too had dark brown skin and deep brown eyes. His long black hair was pressed straighter than a pin needle and hung freely down to his waist. A golden mantle draped his head and shoulders; more of the same material wrapped around his waist and fell into a long skirt. Underneath the swathes of linen, a black shirt clung tightly to his chest.

He was the fifth born and didn't bother himself with thinking of ascension to the throne. He kept to himself and his books. He was the family's expert on the kingdom's history and laws. No matter which of his brother's became king, his was the only name that came up whenever it was asked who among them would take the position of vizier. As a reserved young man who didn't care for the company of others and only wanted the king's power without the popularity, this suited him just fine. He stared intently at the bracelet as he combed his mind for any familiarity.

"You wouldn't be trying to marry us off, would you father?"

Prince Jun was the third son. He had the playful smile of a fox as he stared at his father with irritant knitted brows. He wore a changshan, a long Chinese dress with a high collar, knotted buttons, and long flowing sleeves. With his long red hair tied in a side braid, it emphasized his lean figure and femininely pretty face. What his good looks couldn't get him, he had no problem using cunning. It was no surprise that he had picked up on his father's plan right away.

"What!?" The king stood taken aback and put his hand over his heart as if he had been greatly offended. "You don't believe me!? It's not as if I'm making this up! It's totally a thing!"

"Mm-hmm..." Jun dropped his smile and glared at him. That was all he needed to know to make his decision on the matter.

"I have no interest in the throne," spoke Prince Melchiorre as he took Alex's hand, "but I can't refuse the attention of a pretty girl."

Melchiorre smiled at her warmly as he stroked her palm. He had feathery light brown hair, a mature build, and was the tallest of his brothers. His sharp features gave him the traditional roguish good looks of his Venetian parentage. His blithe attitude showed in his lavishly renaissance style of dress. He was the oldest and if it weren't for his choosing to abdicate, he would have been next in line for the throne. Instead, he chose to enjoy the luxury of his life and surrounded himself with food, music, and women.

Alex smacked his hand away as she took a step back.

"Well this might turn out to be fun!"

Laughing at his brother's failed pick up as he nursed his stung pride was Prince Alvah. He stood with his hands on his hips and was dressed in simple clothes compared to his brothers; he was also dripping wet. He had been swimming when the king summoned him and took no time to dry himself off. Currently, a team of maids were hard at work mopping up the hazardous trail he had left behind.

Prince Alvah was the same age as Prince Jun but was fourth in line. Like Chezem, he didn't concern himself with succession and instead often ran from his duties for more lively pursuits. Because of his sunny disposition and boundless energy, he was a favorite among common people and courtiers alike.

"Your name's Alex, right," he asked. "What do you like to do? Want to go out for a game?"

"Back off, you guys! You're frightening her even more!"

Piping up was the youngest prince, Prince Nagit. His most striking features were his pale skin and shoulder length black hair. It was cut in a way that emphasized his round face and big eyes, making him look younger and more child-like than he actually was. Wearing a slightly oversized kimono, the endearing cuteness that made him a favorite among his brothers and was his weapon of choice to get what he wanted with a slyness he hid very well.

"Miss Alex's only just got here," he added. "Hey, can you tell me stories about the country you come from?"

With a smile and tilt of his head, she felt her defenses melt away. She was overcome with the urge to fawn over him.

"Nagit, please," sighed Melchiorre. "You're just as bad as Alvah!"

"Huh? What'd I do," asked Alvah defensively.

"A young lady doesn't want to spend time with children or playing around outdoors," he chastised. "Come with me for a more relaxing pursuit in the proper company of a gentleman."

Alex prepared to hit him again out of sheer annoyance. Prince Lambert jumped down his throat before she could make a move.

"If you're not here for the throne then don't involve yourself," he snapped.

"So you're kneeling to father's fancy and going along with this," asked Jun with a condescendingly raised eyebrow. "As prickly as you are, I don't see the young lady having an enjoyable time with you either."

He suddenly changed his expression and smiled at her. It was a smile she was immediately wary of.

"You should pick me. If you do, I'll be sure to thank you... in ways you'd only dream."

Compared to Prince Jun, suddenly Prince Melchiorre didn't seem so bad.

"I'm the oldest," said Lambert, having ruled out Melchiorre completely. "So just give me the bracelet."

Alex held the bracelet on her wrists and looked from one young man to the next. She still had no idea what was going on.

"Wait, I can't do something like this! Is this even legal!?"

"It's either this or death," Ivan answered with a cold and calm demeanor.

"That is legal here," added Chezem, "the death penalty."

"Oh come on," interrupted the king. He let out a sigh of frustration from watching his son's horrible attempts at wooing the young lady. It seemed match-making was harder than he had thought.

"How about just picking the one who you think is the cutest?"

As Alex stared from one expectant face to another, her fatigue and bewilderment became more apparent. Her choices were to pick the future king or face death and the only thing she had to go on was who she thought was cute.

"You're Majesty, if I may make a suggestion."

Ivan closed his eyes and spoke with a pained expression. It was through great self-discipline that he didn't rub his aching temples in the presence of the king, as much as he was often the cause of his headaches.

"Wouldn't it be preferable for the young lady to make an informed decision? In order for her to do so, she must not only get to know the candidates, but also the kingdom and our way of life."

"Hm... The romantic-comedy route," said the king under his breath. "Alright. This is my proclamation. Alexandra will be staying with us as a guest until a successor is chosen. For now, the matter is waived."

No one breathed a sigh of relief and all eyes were still on Alex and the king. They all knew he was merely prolonging the game.

"Ivan, you'll be serving her from today forward."

"Yes, your majesty." He gave a respectful bow at his new orders but looked as displeased as ever.

"Good, now that that's settled, you're all dismissed. Alexandra, Ivan will show you to your room. Unless you'd rather sleep in mine," he added with a wag of his eyebrows.

A chorus of objections arose at his licentious invitation. The king put up his hands in mock defeat and shrugged it off as another joke.

Ivan let out another sigh of exasperation and with a stiff 'follow me', walked out of the room. Alex hurried to follow his brisk pace.