Evermore

Prologue

MY MOTHER TOLD me power is a sickness, starting discreetly, seeping into your veins and infecting you, but by the time you realize what's happened it's too late.

You're too far gone.

And as a child, I never worried about that.

I promised myself that having a helping hand at my every whim would never make me lazy, having suitors fall at my feet day after day would never make me vain, having my parents shower me in gifts and love and affection would never make me ignorant to suffering.

I lived by those words, I repeated them to myself every time I found myself using a harsh tone towards my maid or stableboy, I scrawled them onto spare pieces of parchment during long dull history lessons, I breathed those words.

My mother was proud of that to say the least, hiding smiles whenever she saw my messy notes lying about my bedroom, but no matter how many times she said it, my father never seemed to comprehend the advice.

Going back to the example of sicknesses, my father was ridden with the disease and he wasn't very good at hiding it.

Extravagant balls were held in my honor, celebrating minor achievements, just so he had an excuse to boast about his home and his fortune to his friends and others of power.

Buying me ball gowns two times my body weight and insisting I wear them, just because the pearls sewn into the fabric were worth a year's wages.

Sending me off to the most prestigious schools, solely because hardly anyone could manage to get into them, but it wasn't anything to slide the school a sum of money that admitted me without the bat of an eye. 

Half of my achievements weren't achievements as much as they were my father handing money to people to make up for my incompetence.

And so, when I came of age where marriage was a serious matter, of course he had to make it the most over the top and extravagant event to date.

Not only did it have to be immoderate, but it also had to be entertaining, so he came up with a game of sorts.

Every man above the age of twenty who could win my heart in three months had his blessing to ask for my hand in marriage.

You could register to apply for a chance to be a part of the whole ordeal, but of course there were thorough background checks, making sure it was safe for me to be around them.

In the end two hundred and fifty seven men made it through the first portion of the selection.

The second part was that my father and all of his most trusted people of rank had to interview every man, one by one, and decide who would be let through to the third round of sorting.

Only one hundred and four made it though.

The third was definitely the most stressful for everyone, which was that I got to meet and interview each of the men.

Some were sweet, their voices gentle and their words kids, and others were stony, their demeanors harsh and cold.

It was difficult for me to sort through them all, filtering out the ones I couldn't see myself pursuing. Every time I drew an line over a name, I couldn't help but wonder, did I just excuse the man I would've fallen in love with?

Did I just ruin my chance at a loving relationship?

By the end of the final round I was done to forty-nine men.

The stress of the whole thing got to me quickly and it was evidently clear to my mother, so she persuaded my father into giving me a month's break to recover.

It was lovely, and well needed, but over much too quickly.

The last thing we did, to round it down to the smallest number of men as possible, was the letters.

Every man wrote a letter to me, with a maximum of one page, telling me why they wanted to marry me and what they would do to help me reign the kingdom.

I am the Princess after all, then Queen not long after I'm wed, so my husband would become the King.

Some men spoke of diminishing poverty and homelessness in the Kingdom, building homes for everyone and anyone, while others spoke of making deals with our neighboring countries to grow our empire.

It was easy to sort through those.

A few men rambled on about the emerald of my eyes, or my honey colored hair and how soft it looked, which made me slightly uncomfortable to say the least.

I want a King, someone to rule by my side while simultaneously being a loving and cherishing husband.

Flattery is not going to win you wars or solve crises among our subjects, I need to know your plans for the country as well as your plans as a lover.

I got through those fast enough.

Once I read and reviewed the last letter, I had it narrowed down to six men.

It only took four rounds of sorting, seven months, and hours upon hours of worrying, but we had made it to the most critical part of this whole plan.

That was for me to choose a husband, and I only had three months to do it.