He's wearing a black tunic embroidered with thick silver thread. It comes to mid-hip. Underneath, he's wearing tight leather pants and knee-high leather boots. The way his clothes fit, I can see the contours of his body better than ever before. My eyes wonder over his impressive form.

He's so tall and broad, I almost feel like he sucks all the light out of the room and devours it in his glowing green eyes. My eyes wonder over his defined chest, slim waist and down... The leather pants he is wearing leave little the imagination. My eyes snap back up to his face, and my mouth drops open. Prince Trav is hung like a horse and then some. Holy crap. He expects me to mate with him when he's working with that?

He looks at me with his constantly pained expression, which is something between impatience and rage. I gulp as goosebumps break out over my skin.

"This is an improvement," Trav says, inspecting me. He strides toward me and takes my hand, lifting me from my chair. I glance at Uria as if the servant can somehow save me from this monster of a man. She can't, of course, she's in on this whole "you're a princess destined to choose one of the dragon princes" game everyone around here is playing.

I follow Trav out of the room for the first time since I've arrived. He guides me down the stone walled hallway, and I notice the furnishings for the first time. Everything looks completely medieval.

We walk down a long winding staircase, and Trav points out the paintings of his many ancestors who have ruled Castle Warren, enumerating their manly deeds.

We walk through the massive front entrance of the keep and file into a banquet hall. Candelabras hang above the tables, casting a warm glow throughout the room. Rows of tables are occupied by a mass of guests. Most seem to be the smaller type of Endorian, like Uria.

I scan the room, trying to keep my cool. After spending months alone in an RV with my dog, I'm feeling a little shy. I'm not exactly ready to party with the locals. My eyes flick over a massive form, a man at least a foot taller than even the largest man in the room. My eyes focus on him, and I realize it's Conyac.

"That bastard," Trav says under his breath.

Conyac is approaching us, and I can sense Trav stiffen up beside me. "No one invited you, Blackwell," Trav spits out as the other prince bows slightly before us.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world. Besides, I'm not leaving you alone with the princess for any longer than I must. There are no rules against visiting the other prince during the choosing ritual. I should be allowed free access to the princess."

"Have a good look. This is as close as you're going to get to her."

Conyac's lips curl back, showing his sharp canines and his already glowing blue eyes burn brighter. "You have not yet completed hilock with the princess, Trav. She will come to me in two days’ time."

"We'll see," Trav says and brushes past Conyac, holding my hand tightly. He leads me to the head table where we sit in front of a literal feast. There are roasts of native animal, fruits, breads, vegetables, cakes. The food looks similar enough to our own food that I understand what it is.

Conyac sits in the table just below our own. Trav eyes him as he heaps food onto my plate and pours me a glass of wine.

I sip the wine. It's sweet and fruity, so I throw back almost the entire glass before looking up. The princes are still staring each other down, and I roll my eyes. Men. This whole thing is a big mistake. I'm no dragon princess, but they can't get their heads out of their macho competition.

I put my cup down, and Trav fills it a second time. I nibble at the food on my plate. Once I'm sure it tastes good, I dig in, drinking several more glasses of wine at the same time.

A musician comes in and begins to play a stringed instrument. He begins to sing. The chords and melody are soft and haunting, making my heart ache for home. Damn. I down another glass of wine, feeling tears threaten to fall from the corners of my eyes.

After the song, jugglers come in, and the music becomes livelier. I wipe my eyes and tear into another bite of bread. Trav leans over to me and whispers into my ear.

"How do you like the entertainment, lady?" he asks me. His hot breath tingles on my neck and stokes a fire in me I didn't know had kindled. His body seems to radiate heat next to mine, warming me all the way down to my panties. I bite my lip. My head is woozy with wine. I feel like an idiot for getting turned on like this.

"It's nice," I say. He grasps my hand. The contact of his skin feels so good; it sends another shudder of desire through my core. I must be drunk. This is the opposite effect I wanted my drunkenness to have.