She was so beautiful.
Ivan had thought that since he'd first seen her, since the guards had brought her in for stealing the bracelet. He could tell she didn't do it; her wide, scared eyes, and the lost, confused look on her face spoke volumes. But the King had the final decision, and he was just to listen and provide advice.
She was young, probably still in college, or just out of it. Her skin looked so soft, her hair just messy enough to be appealing without looking unkempt, and her clothes, while not nearly the quality he saw on the women around the castle, seemed to fit her, somehow. They looked comfortable, and suddenly the stiff starchness of his own garments became very apparent.
Oh, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.
But she was to choose. To choose the next King, or to join the present King's harem. His Highness' sons, or his Highness himself.
And as he led the girl to her bedquarters, he swore to help her make a good choice. Malchierre was definitely out, the boy was far too rough for her. Nagit was too young, Alvah too irresponsible. It wouldn't be him, of course.
He was just a servant, after all.
