“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jason hurled when his parents gave him the order.

“Jason, watch your attitude!” King Jaimie snapped.

“But why do I have to go to that filthy place? I’ve never seen a pretty girl there, not in all the times I’ve gone through there.” He rushed to his mother and clung to her hand. “Mom, please, give them some money or something. They wouldn’t refuse that.”

“They didn’t want money. Do you really think we offered you?” Queen Clarise asked him and took his face in her hands. “They asked for this, and if we want to keep them our loyal subjects…well, this is what we must do.”

“Think of it as a small price to pay for living here and for the power and privileges you have,” King Jaimie added. “The faster you find a bride, the sooner you will return to the comfort of the castle.”

Jason had just returned from Paris after a week-long visit to see some friends of his. What would they think if they saw him parading with those people? The thought alone repulsed him, and he shivered and stepped away from his mother.

He raked his hand through his brown hair and backed away. “I can’t believe this.” He walked to the window overlooking the river. From there, he could see a section of the village, white and brown specks that made up roofs and walls. “How long do I have to be there?”

“If you like, we can choose a girl for you,” his mother suggested.

“Oh, God, no!” he replied quickly. “I’ll do it myself.”

In reality, he had no intention of actually choosing any of them. If he had to be in the village, he would make a meal out of it. He was sure there would be plenty of women throwing themselves at him. All he had to do was pick one—maybe a different one every night—and have his way with them. That would teach them to make ridiculous demands of him.

A sly grin crossed his face, which didn’t escape his mother’s eyes. “Jason, I know that look.” When he didn’t answer, she chased him down and grabbed his arm. “Do not do anything stupid!” she warned. “We have to play this right.”

“Mom, I get it,” he said and tried to pry his arm out of her claws. “One bride coming up,” he growled as he walked away.

The huge oak doors creaked shut behind Jason. He was fuming, and his fists balled against his designer jeans. He got to his room and swung the door shut. It didn’t make the projected slam, so he spun, ready to tackle the reason for it, when he saw Ellie, his maid, standing in the opening.

“What?” he snapped, immediately regretting his tone. She had been there with and for him ever since he was eight. He relied on her for everything, and it stung him when he saw the disappointed look on her face. She sighed deeply and clasped her calloused hands before her.

He wiped his hand down his face and turned about in torment. “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he apologized, like he was in pain. He wasn’t accustomed to it, and she was one of the few—if not the only person—he ever apologized to.

“You know, Master Burgess, if I could help it, you wouldn’t be going to the village. I think that’s a bad idea, but…what can I do? Your mother asked me to pack some of your things, so here I am.”

He walked over to the California king-sized canopied bed. It was way too big for just him, and he parted the chiffon curtain draped down the front end of the bed from the posts and sank into the soft mattress that molded into his shape. The bed was a custom-built piece, of course, and he spent each night in blissful sleep. He ran his right hand over the one-thousand-count cotton sheet that would soon be replaced by God knew what.

“Go ahead. You know we cannot disappoint the king or queen,” he said sarcastically.

“Master Burgess, I’m sure if they had a choice they wouldn’t be doing this either.”

Ellie moved closer to him, like she had a secret to tell. He could smell the faint scent of flowers on her, which meant she had been tending to the garden before. Her features were hard, and she seemed older than her thirty-eight years. He hardly ever saw her hair, since it was always covered by a head wrap that matched the pale-yellow uniform all the house staff wore. Her eyes, though, were warm, and they always pulled him in, making him want to confide in her, as he often did.

“I’m not ready to get married,” he replied, and flung the curtain back as he stood and walked around the room. “I just returned from Paris. Paris!” he repeated for emphasis, and spun on his heels to face her and gesticulated wildly. “The city full of lights and fun, dancing and drinking, girls and parties—oh, I wish I didn’t have to come back yet.” His eyes saddened and his face drooped. “Now I’m to be shipped off to the village.” He said the word ‘village’ like it was poison in his mouth. His face contorted as even the word repulsed him.

“Because it’s a village doesn’t mean you won’t find a good wife,” Ellie said softly, obviously taking his disdain personally. After all, she used to live in the village before she became a maid in the castle.

“Oh, don’t be a fool, Ellie!” Jason replied, without realizing her meaning. “What kind of wife can I find in a place like that?”

“They aren’t all bad,” she repeated, hoping he would catch her meaning. “I mean, there’s the Millers—they have a beautiful daughter, Emma. She would be a good choice. Or Stefanie, over at the Brahams. She wants to be a doctor, I think.”

Jason was quiet as she recited a list. He sighed deeply and interrupted. “Ellie, I don’t mean you. I know you come from the village, but you are different.” He returned to the window and looked across the green landscape at the brown and white dots that would soon be his temporary home. “I feel like I am being set up, you know. Like this is a game I can’t win.”

Ellie clearly didn’t know what to say. She knew, as well as anyone else, that none of those women would be good enough for Jason. He was used to the finer things in life, and none of the girls would really satisfy him. To take him from the comfort of his home and thrust him into a life of little would not end well. Sure, he would still have his money, but he would have to socialize with people who were beneath him, and that alone would only add to his arrogance.

She sighed and went about packing the things she thought he would need—bed linen, comfort jeans, white tees, socks, other personal items, loafers, sandals. While she was packing, she wondered where he would put all the things she knew he would want.

“Hey, I am coming back, you know,” he said from behind her, and she jumped when he startled her.

She pressed her left palm against her chest as it heaved. “I know,” she said breathily, “but I want to make sure you are comfortable.”

Jason smirked. “Don’t waste your time.”

He had no intention of staying in the village. Maybe he would hang around for a week or two before running off. Or he would pick the first woman who wasn’t a total slob. Either way, he would get out of living in that dump. On the up side, though, it would be great to live amidst his loyal subjects. There was nothing wrong with a little adoration. And it was his to command as long as he was there. That ought to do some good.

He was in much higher spirits the following morning when he was packed and ready to go. The car was to take him to the village, where he would remain until he had chosen one of the village women to be his wife. Jason peered through the midnight black tint at the small, awkward houses that lined the streets. They weren’t handsome with their cobblestone or dirt walkways, battered awnings that fluttered in the slight wind that was blowing, the rooftops covered with debris and stones that served to keep the shingles in place, or black plastic coverings for the ones that leaked. He raised his eyebrows as the car cruised along, going slower than he was used to because children flooded the streets, playing catch and making shrill noises as they chased each other up and down the blocks. The driver had to stop a few times, and some of them, perhaps seeing a stretch limo for the first time, ran up to the window, cupped their dirty hands against the glass, and peered inside.

He flinched and shrunk from them. They giggled, and several of them pointed to the car and called others. Soon, everyone was talking about the prince. Jason couldn’t help but feel self-righteous. He puffed up his chest as the car crawled further along, calling the attention of more children like he was the pied piper for the poor.

“Get your ass over here!” he heard a voice shout, and a large burly woman emerged and grabbed one of the girls away from the moving car. “Go on. Get out of here,” she told the other children, and they reluctantly dispersed.

Jason was taken aback. Maybe she didn’t know it was him. He tapped the digital display over his head and the screen lowered. He tapped the one for the window, and it rolled down slowly. He sat upright, his chest forward and eyes sharp, and waited for his salutation. The woman stood with the child held firmly against her, her eyes making contact with his the entire time. The smile he wore plastered over his face slowly stiffened, and his mouth was a slit in his face. She stared at him and scoffed.

Jason was rattled, more than he thought he would be. He didn’t roll the windows back up, but he noticed all too well the looks from the other people he passed. They went about their business like they had no idea who was in the limo. Only the children chased after him, but they would not be his salvation.

The driver pulled up to a quaint house set a little way from the cluster of houses he had just passed. It was okay, by his estimation, with a garden to one side at the front, a freshly cut square of a lawn on the other side, and a tiny house met by stone steps that seemed to have only recently been brushed clean.

He was beginning to think that for more than one reason, this would be a failed attempt when, as he stepped from the car, a woman ran over to him.

“Can I get those for you?” she asked as she grinned, showing two rows of big, yellowing teeth. She didn’t wait for him to answer. She swooped in and grabbed the bags from the driver. He observed her and didn’t say a word. She cocked her head to the side, and a redhead ran up, all smiles. She helped the other woman take the bags, and they bustled together to the door.

Jason smiled as he watched them fussing over him. That’s more like it. The elder of the women returned, and she twiddled her thumbs, her smile unfading. “This is Charlotte, my daughter. She’s always wanted to be an astronaut, and I always told her, honey, you can be anything you want to be. When she was younger, she told me she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.” She grinned even broader, as if what she said was some kind of recommendation.

“Oh,” he responded flatly. He cleared his throat, his confidence and arrogance restored. “We’ll see.”

The women took those words as encouragement, and as they hurried away, he heard the elder tell the younger how lucky she was they had seen him first. Jason grinned and meandered up the narrow walkway to the door that Rick, his driver, held open for him.

Inside looked just as he expected—small, stuffy, and not at all to his taste. It smelled freshly scrubbed, and the smell of bleach permeated the room. He stood in what appeared to be the living area, set with a brown, L-shaped sectional, a matching coffee and entrance table, some paintings hung on the wall, a small table in the back with freshly picked flowers, and a low-hanging ceiling fan. His footsteps echoed in the room as he made his way to the kitchen, which had nothing more than a stove and a refrigerator. He opened it and saw that it was empty, and one quick look told him the cupboards were the same. His quick tour ended in the only bedroom—one queen-sized mattress on a slab of wood, and two less than plush pillows. There was a large chest, a worn rug, and a large standing mirror.

Jason was beside himself with contempt as he stared at his new living quarters. He was all but ready to return to the comforts of his own bed.

“Where should I put these, sir?” Rick asked as he stood in the doorway with two of the bags.

“Just…leave them…” Jason began as he tried to find an appropriate place. “Leave them there.” He wasn’t sure he would use the dresser. The thing was old and worn. The thin wood lining the bottom of the drawers was giving in, and he had to push hard on them to get them back into the grooves so they would shut properly.

He was miserable already, and he cursed his parents under his breath. He saw Rick shifting his weight and looking around uncomfortably like he wanted to say something, or to leave, but didn’t quite know how to get the words out. Jason thought he would spare him the grief. He felt like an idiot when he saw the look on Rick’s face as he entered the house, and right away it was obvious that his temporary home was even worse than Rick’s living quarters.

“You can go.” Jason sighed heavily. “I will make myself at home.” The sarcasm was dripping off Jason’s tongue as heavy as melted caramel. Was this even worth the crown? What was he doing here?

Rick nodded, and his feet thudded across the room as he hurried out. The door clicked shut after him. And he was alone. But not for long. A knock sounded at the door.

“Hmm, here come the greeters,” he muttered and walked to the door. He swung it wide and was met by a barrage of women. They poured into the room like water from a broken dam, and he stepped back before he could get soaked from their downpour.

“Would you like some help with setting up?” one almost pretty girl asked as she batted her lashes at him.

“I brought you my famous casserole,” another chimed in and slid in front of the first girl.

“Oh, no one wants that dreadful thing to eat, Pamela,” yet another called and shoved that girl aside. “I brought pudding.”

Pamela rolled her huge brown eyes. “Great. Now he will die like your husband. We all know you killed him with your cooking.”

There were a few giggles from some of the others as Pamela stepped forward again with her casserole. “Don’t pay them any mind, Prince Jason. I bet you are hungry. Come on!”

Jason was a bit amused by them, and a little annoyed as well. He was especially intolerant of their not paying him the requisite tribute as a prince. “Is this how you treat your prince? All this quarreling, no bowing, no respect?” he asked. He wasn’t really used to any of that, but he wanted to see how well they would serve him.

“Oh, sorry,” a few of them replied and proceeded to curtsy.

He almost choked on his laughter. “That’s better,” he replied with a smile.

His laugh apparently only made them more raucous and the squabbling resumed. “Prince Jason, I know my daughter will make you happy,” a woman said and grabbed the hand of a girl who was hiding in the back.

“Ma, I don’t think he—”

“Shush, child, what do you know?” the woman scolded and yanked her forward. “My Emma is a little shy.”

“Emma?” Jason asked, remembering the name from the ones Ellie had mentioned. She wasn’t beautiful, but she had an even disposition. She was small in stature, and her skin was pale and dry. Her hair was braided and caught in a bun at her nape, and her head was down the entire time her mother spoke.

“Yes,” she mumbled without looking up.

“Hold up your head, child,” her mother said and grabbed her by the chin.

When she looked at him, he saw her glossy, frightened eyes. He was almost sorry for her. Almost. These people wanted him in the village. He didn’t want to be, and if they wanted to marry him, they would have to work for it.

“I think I’m prettier,” a girl sang in his ear.

He turned and saw a dark-haired girl. She had pale skin and red, chapped lips. If she had smoother skin and fuller lips, she would have been beautiful. Jason’s head kept turning this way and that as each woman tried to campaign for his affection. But he wouldn’t make it so easy.

“You will all have your chance.” He stepped back. “For now, I would like to get some rest.” He wanted them to go. Being in the same room for so long made him dizzy. They all smelled like potluck, dirt, and potions.

Their faces grew long, like they had really expected him to make a decision in that very moment. He wished he could have. At least he would be able to return to the castle much sooner.

“What do we do with these?” Pamela asked as she held out her casserole.

He looked around. “Just leave them on the table.” He indicated the other side of the room. They shuffled over, some making deliberate attempts to brush against him, staining him with the village scents.

They took an awfully long time to leave, batting lashes, blowing kisses, and lowering their tops to reveal full busts and ample cleavages. Maybe, in the dead of night when the world was black, he might enjoy suckling on a few choice breasts. But only under the cover of night, because the daylight revealed their faces and true natures. He felt like shit merely thinking it. What would his friends think about him lusting after village girls’ breasts?

He turned his head away and allowed them to leave in single file. After they were all gone, he welcomed the silence. But the village never slept. As soon as the sun had set, the noise stirred in the district. There was loud music, laughing, shouting, and the occasional sounds of bottles breaking. And it was just seven in the evening.

The bed was unusually uncomfortable, despite the softest bed linen he used. He tossed and turned, unable to catch a wink of sleep. A half hour later, and purely out of frustration, he grabbed his shirt, tucked it into his jeans, and slipped out of the house through the back. He thought he might fall asleep faster after he took a walk.

The early night air was soothing as he crept stealthily behind the rows of houses. He was glad no one was around to see him—his walk would not have been pleasant otherwise. He looked up at the pale light of the moon and how its glow fell gently upon the sleeping plants and packed dirt walkways.

The soft earth padded his footsteps, and as he walked, the noise from the villagers faded into the background and he was able to hear the music of the night—the crickets chirping, the owls hooting, and the scurrying among the brushes revealing the nocturnal creatures already busy searching for food.

He hadn’t realized how serene and peaceful such a simple thing could be, nor how far he had walked, until he reached a large tree that faced a meadow. His peaceful walk was disturbed when he saw someone sitting under it, holding a lantern. He paused and thought to turn back, but he changed his mind when he realized the figure was a lone woman. She turned her head to the side when he approached, and the soft light from the lantern illuminated her face. He was struck instantly by her beauty. She hadn’t seen him as he approached, nor did he recognize her as one of the women he had seen earlier.

There was something different about her, and as he got closer, she sprang to her feet. She held the lantern up to see the intruder on her solitude. He saw the long overalls she wore that covered anything that might be of interest to him. He expected her to bow or act the fool now that she had seen it was him.

Instead, her hand fell and she turned and sat down again like he wasn’t even there. And for the second time that day, he was rendered speechless.