“My Prince, the royal family of Celia have arrived,” Mack, their loyal servant, addressed him.

Alexi barely looked up from the book he was reading, perched against his crossed legs. He carefully turned the page of the century old novel. The pages were weathered and brittle. He was afraid they would crumple if the wind blew too hard through the cracks in the wall but it was his favorite book and he refused to retire it.

He didn’t need to turn around to know that Mack had already left the way he came. He could hear the ancient vampires, soft steps padding along the stone floor, down the flight of stairs to his sitting room and back out to the main section of the castle.

Alexi carefully closed his book and set it down on the table beside him. He leaned back in his chair, staring out the frosted window to the white mountains that lead back to his home. What he wouldn’t give to be back at his castle, tangled in the sheets with his paramour, Genevieve, but that fickle woman of his was always out somewhere, whether it be shopping or attending some frivolous ball.

He hated the idea of another arranged marriage. Especially to another human. He couldn’t even remember the Princesses in question he was too choose from. Not one of them stuck out in his mind, which made the prospect of choosing his future wife among the litter, even more daunting.

Although, just because he was forced into a marriage with a woman he had no connection to, didn’t mean he had to bed her, let alone talk to her. He had Genevieve for that. This Princess could be his wife in the public eye and that’s it. She would mean nothing to him.

Alexi stood up, straightening out his jacket, adjusting the collar around his neck. He left his room, walking at a slow and leisurely pace. The King of Celia could wait on him. After all, this was his bridal choosing.

As he made his way out of his apartments and down the hall towards the reception room, his sensitive hearing could pick up the mewings of women. The Prince had to force himself to refuse the urge to turn around and reject this outlandish set up. He was raised better than that. No matter his opinion, his father was still King.

Just as he was about to push open the door, a feminine voice caught his ear. Her voice was melodic, her words tainted with the lazy speech of the southern court but he could tell she was intelligent just from her dialect.

“Where is this prince anyways? Here we are left to wait for him like some commoners,” a woman said, making him cringe. She sounded privileged and spoiled, making him grimace at the prospect of being saddled with her for her natural born life.

“So eager to be married off dear sister?” another woman asked, her words still contained the southern accent but her pronunciation was more pronounced. “I think you would fare well in the North. Cold and barren, just like you.”

This made the Prince smirk. One of these women had fire and he hated to admit it but she intrigued him.

Before he could be caught eavesdropping, he pushed open the double doors, breaking up the tense atmosphere of the room.

The room contained his father, leaning back in his chair looking tired. He never did fare well with women. It was a wonder he managed to snag his mother. The King of Celia stood in the center of the feud that looked as if it might spark a fire. The older human looked worn and leathered from the southern sun, but his eyes were bright and intelligent as he attempted to sooth his daughters, the only reason he was in attendance at all.