Chapter 1

I couldn't imagine anything less entertaining. I push away another line of photos. Elder Res takes them and places another row of photos for me to look at onto the mahogany desk.

"Any who catch your eye, sister?" Andrew asks me as he walks into the study. I glance at him just as he fixes his long strands of raven black hair into place above his forehead. I roll my eyes as he makes himself a drink. No doubt he was fondling a maid in the hall just before coming in.

Groaning, I answer with distain. "No."

"She's been looking at the worlds finest royals, father. Won't you give her a break?" Logan asks, from the window behind me. His eyes were fondly following his wife's walk in the gardens with her brother.

"Truly, if she wasn't serious about this whole thing she would have just said yes to the first one you offered just to get it out of the way. It's been all day," Andrew points out, sitting across from the chess match our father and brother were engaged in.

Max barely understood sarcasm but he did understand strategy. A very smart man but less than adequate at socializing. He takes minutes to stare at the board, calculating each possible move after our fathers last.

Just like our father, he too understands the very detail in body language in these sort of things. His face and body remain as relaxed as possible.

"Andrew's right. She would have just said yes to the first one. There's been more than 100 princes proposed as suitors and 37 eligible kings too." Max explains this as a common fact among us but even I didn't keep count of exactly how many princes and kings had been in the string of possible suitors.

Our father, hands folded over his ivory cane, leans over the board to observe Max's next move towards his queen. Once Max has finished, our father leans back with a smirk crossing his weathered features.

"You're trying to take my queen off the board, huh?" He asks as his eyes wonder over the board. Max shrugs. Andrew sips his liquor as he smirks.

Logan continues to watch after his wife from the window. I push away another string of men.

"Kida, what do you think of those men in front of you?" I hear our father ask without lifting his eyes from the chess game. I glance at him then drag those photos back in front of me.

"Each man looks too high on his horse to consider my position, nor this kingdoms best intentions."

"Anything considerable?" He refines his question.

I sigh deeply. "They all look sturdy. Capable on the battle field. But that means nothing in a time of peace, which I hope to maintain."

"Mhmm," he hums, moving some piece across the board and swiping another piece from the board. Max's right hand clenches then unclenches under the table.

"Each looks similar. Same hair color, facial structure. No doubt brothers. Except this one at the end. He has red eyes. Far more relaxed than the others in stature." I observe out loud, my eyes drifting from photo to photo but lingering on this strange looking man.

"That would be Prince Azriel. Some call him the Prince of Shadows." Max explains as Andrew suddenly stands.

"Definitely not him." He says, snatching the photo of the pale, raven haired man off the table and into Elder Res chest. "He is no suitor to my sister. He would kill her for her passion for this kingdom."

"Prince Azriel would be a good match," our father says calmly.

A hollow breath of air covers the room as shock resonates through each one of us. Andrew almost shakes in anger. Logan steps beside Elder Res to look at the photo of the Prince of Shadows. Andrew's muscles bulge from his body when he turns to our father.

"Are you insane father? He's as cruel as they come. Even his brothers agree!" Andrew says, taking a seat again across from the chess match. Our father shakes his head.

"I've met the boy. He's a sharp one. Nothing like the princes of these modern times that think they already own so much of this world and it's residence. His brothers are much too spoiled. You might like him, Kida," our father offers his thoughts for the first time all day. I stand and take the photo from Logan, again looking at the mans almost glowing red eyes.

"Have I met him before?" I ask father. He shakes his head, pushing his lips into a firm line as he recalls.

"No." He answers firmly. "But you might have. During the Last Battle of Kaltain, he aided us with 100 men."

"His father only allowed him 100 men?" I ask, shocked at the lack of support given to us by his father.

"His father wanted him to die in the battle. The man has 6 sons. One less to worry about killing off the others when he dies," Andrew explains. I roll my eyes in disgust.

What a barbaric kingdom. In traditional times, when the king died his remaining sons would fight to the death for the right to the throne. The last prince standing would become the reigning king. Then the next generation would wait for their father to die and do the same. Only a few kingdoms still maintain this tradition but of course, this creates very bloody hands of alliances.

"It's a kindness he would be granting him, Andrew. Not every king can help his children, but when he can, he will," Logan points out as he hovers over my shoulder.

"Only the good ones."