This is mostly an Ivan chapter, enjoy!

Just a note: As you probably already noticed, the characters will speak Arabic from time to time. I feel like it's not enough to warrant footnotes, and the meaning is almost always easy to infer if the MC doesn't straight up explain it.


After a short amount of time, we reach a room. It looks like this is the hall of bedrooms, but I have no idea. I really could use a palace tour, maybe I can convince Ivan to give me one later on.

"Welcome to your room Miss." With that, he opens the door. I haven't even walked in yet, but I'm already in utter awe.

This room is absolutely huge. Ten college students could live easily in this room and have no problem with space. The walls are a pristine white, and the carpet is a deep red to match the rest of the red in the palace. A double king canopy bed in an intricate iron cast frame stands up against the wall to the right, with gold colored nightstands on either side of it by the head. A fainting couch to match the carpet is a few feet in front of the bed. By the door is a vintage, golden vanity with a matching padded chair. There are doors on either side of the bed just beyond the nightstands, which I can only assume are the closet and bathroom. Directly across from where Ivan and I are standing are large, window paned double doors that lead to a balcony (I thought we were on a ground floor, but the steps in front of the palace must have been higher up than I thought). Two giant windows are to the right of the double doors, and the natural sunlight in this room during the day must be beautiful. I walk to the middle of the room and twirl around. Wow, this almost makes all the bad things I've felt the past few hours dissolve completely.

Ivan clears his throat. I look over, a giddy smile on my face as I resist the urge to twirl again. A softness washes over Ivan for a moment, then he gets serious again.

"Your studies will begin tomorrow, for now just relax and get acquainted."

Studies? "Studies?"

"Yes. If you're going to be living with us and picking the future king, you need to learn about our country and our customs, not to mention palace etiquette."

Etiquette? But I thought I was doing such a good job being polite, what am I missing?

"I'll give you some points for dinner tonight, but it won't be enough to have you fully refined in time."

Refined?

"Now then, for starters, you'll have to wear something more conservative than what you have on right now. Is that how you dress in America?"

I look down at my outfit. I actually thought I was pretty covered up. Normally, I enjoy wearing low cut tops and short skirts (not necessarily together), but given that I'm in the Middle East, it only seemed appropriate not to wear such items out. I'm wearing a pair of blue jeans, white Converse sneakers, and a pink baby doll t-shirt. How is this not conservative?

I contemplate saying this is normal for me, but why start this journey with lies? The truth already saved me once; I need to stick with it. "Actually no, in America I normally wear less."

To my surprise, Ivan appears to be blushing. "Well, your outfit still is not appropriate dinner attire. I assume you've worn dresses in the past?"

Oh I see, the issue isn't what's covered, it's that I'm wearing jeans? "Oh yes sir, I love dresses!"

"There is no need to call me 'sir', Ivan will do just fine." He gives me another stern glance. "It should also be noted that you never address the King as 'sir' either. Always address him as 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness' or "Your Excellency" when first greeting him, and then use 'sire' the remainder of the time you are in his presence. Under different circumstances, he would have pointed this out himself, but he's often easily distracted by a pretty face, not to mention you're picking who inherits the throne."

Looks like I'm already getting a lesson. "Aww, you think I'm pretty?" I can't help but point that out, it's the first nice thing he's said about me.

He looks frustrated. "I sincerely hope that is not all you heard, or this is going to be a long month. Shall I repeat myself?"

"No sir…er…no Ivan. I heard you." Sheesh.

"If that is true, then what would you call His Majesty after you first address him?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I'd call him 'sire', like you just said."

"Ah, you were listening. Certainly could have fooled me." He motions towards my arms. "Leave your arms at your side, Miss. It is not proper to be in a defensive stance unless one is fencing."

I find I'm having a hard time dropping them. "And what else is not proper?"

"I do not have time to list everything now, that would be counterproductive. As it were, we need to work on your attire. Dinner will be soon." He walks towards the closet, then glances back at me. "Arms down, Miss. If such an easy rule is this tough to obey, then it's only going to get harder on you."

I drop my arms, not for obedience sake, but because I really want to see this closet. Ivan nods, then opens the closet.

I gasp. It's empty, but that's not why I gasped. It's easily the biggest closet I've ever seen. I stand at the frame, almost afraid to go in lest I get lost. It appears to have the same shape as the uppercase letter I, with a section for shoes, pants, tops, dresses, skirts, accessories, even underwear. An entire level of any department store could probably fill this and it'd STILL have room left.

"Wow…"

Ivan contemplates the emptiness. "It would appear we got here prior to the furnishing. I'll make sure that gets taken care of during dinner. In the meantime, I shall summon a change of clothes for you."

He takes out a phone, hits a number, then speaks into it after a moment. He's speaking Arabic, but nothing sounds familiar. It wouldn't surprise me if, despite his polished nature, he's making fun of me right now. Yep, let's all laugh at the American. He probably thinks I'm a twat, if he even uses words like that. Ha, I wonder how you say 'twat' in Arabic…

"Pay attention, Miss!"

I snap out of my speculations. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Do not throw around apologies so casually, no one will believe you mean it if you do so."

Ugh. "That wasn't casual, I meant it. I'm always sincere when I apologize."

"I see." He clearly does not believe me. "Well, a few outfits shall arrive in a bit, hopefully one of them fits. Since they are being chosen for you, you'll know the exact expectation for dinner attire, as well as what is expected for a lady to wear in the palace."

I nod. "Great."

"I'll go over more etiquette while we wait and as you dress."

"Ummm…you're not going to stay here while I dress, are you?" I'm not shy, normally I don't care, but I'm not a fan of this Ivan. He's probably wishing the King had sent me to the gallows, or a firing squad, perhaps a kraken if he's particularly creative.

"I most certainly am. I need to make sure your outfit is appropriate. However, I shall give you privacy and not look."

I cross my arms. "Why can't you just leave then come back?"

"As I've already said, there is much to learn and not much time before dinner. A missed opportunity for knowledge means not only am I not doing my job, but your life is a little less fulfilled."

Well he's got me there, and yet I still don't want him in this room. "Well, if that's the case, then you might as well look."

He appears to be blushing again, but I can't be sure. "That would compromise my position as a gentleman."

I make a horse sound with my lips. Gentleman indeed. "You're policing everything else, might as well keep it going."

He frowns. "I am not policing anything; I am just doing my job."

"But how else will you know if my undergarments are refined enough for this royal dinner?" Everything else needs to be up to code.

He looks frustrated again. "This sarcasm is not becoming of a lady. If you must insist on using this tone, then I suppose it's okay if you use it on me to get over it, but it will be unacceptable at the dinner table."

I cross my arms. He may be getting on my nerves, but it's obvious he's trying to make this go smoothly. That's clearly what he's used to, and I'm willing to bet everything goes as planned when he's around. "It matters that much to you, does it?"

"Yes. I know this is going to take some getting used to, and we do want you to feel welcome, but there are still rules to follow while you are here."

He's right. I may have had this huge responsibility thrust upon me, without my consent and after losing everything, but I have to make the best of it. Of course there are things to learn, did I really think I'd just be lounging around and oogling hot princes? Yes, you totally did…

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Ivan and I both look over at the door, which opens to reveal a large garment rack with a ton of outfits and accessories hanging from it. It's so large I don't even see the person who is pushing it in. This is his definition of a few outfits? Damn, I don't think Belle had this many choices before having dinner with the Beast.

Ivan motions towards the rack once it comes to a stop. "Let's see how this goes."


"Honestly Miss, that should not have been that difficult."

I roll my eyes and tug at my coat. We're walking at a rapid pace down another hall, towards what I assume will be the dining room, and I look ridiculous. I'm wearing some kind of red, long sleeved, form fitting contraption that goes down to my ankles. I don't even know how to describe this thing, other than it's probably what Mrs. Claus would have worn to her prom, despite it not looking formal. To make it worse, Ivan insisted on an overcoat. Next thing I knew, I had a long, brown coat over me. Grace Kelly I am not.

"Honestly Ivan, red on a red head? Have you ever dressed a woman before, let alone one with red hair?"

My guess is no. I can't decide if this is punishment for lollygagging or if he sincerely thinks this is a good looking outfit. I hope it's the former, because if this is the expectation for dress, I'm going to constantly disappointed people. The only saving grace tonight is I got to pick my own shoes.

Ivan shoots me a haughty glance. "I would not have had to pick an outfit for you if you had been better with your time."

"I couldn't help it. There were so many wonderful outfits to look at, is it so bad that I wanted to look at them all? And maybe I stared at that sparkly silver tube dress a little too long, but it was so sparkly! I wasn't really going to wear it to dinner…"

Ivan holds up a hand. "It's done, and you look fine. Do you remember everything I told you while you changed?"

Actually, I was so busy mourning the tragedy that is this dress that I only heard bits and pieces. Something about "too much food" and "right hand only". Well, whatever the etiquette rules, I should be fine as long as I sit up straight; chew with my mouth closed, then basically mimic what everyone else is doing.

"I think I do. Just one question: are we presented with one plate at a time like at a restaurant, or is it all in the center like family style dinner time?"

Ivan looks thoughtful. "That's actually a good question. Normally it's family style, as you call it. On special occasions, or when there's a great number of guests, each dish is presented one at a time. Dessert is always presented at the end."

Alright, this won't be so bad.

Ivan stops in front of another set of double doors, which look identical to the throne room doors. "Are you ready?"

I'm suddenly very nervous. I thought I had this, but now I just feel like a Barbie Doll: completely blank, donned in an outfit that matches the situation with nothing else to contribute. No, don't do that, you got this.

I clap my hands. "Yes, I'm ready."

Ivan opens the doors, and we both walk in. The king and all the princes are sitting at a rather long dinner table. King Tamir is at the head, and the princes are all sitting on either side, split into threes. I'm trying to remember who is who when they all look over my way and stand up. I'm taken aback by such hotness (and royalty) standing up for me, but I realize they are just being polite. Even so, I've never had this happen to me before, and I seem to be stuck in place.

Ivan takes notice, and walks on forward until he's at the king's side. Seeing him walk snaps me out of it and I walk forward as well. Everyone is still standing, and I scan the table quickly looking for an empty seat. I kind of expected to be on the end opposite of the king, just so the seating would be even, but instead I see an empty seat between the blonde (Prince Lambert, was it?) and the red head (Prince Alvin? No…Alvah, I think). I walk over to it quickly. Prince Alvah scoots the chair out for me.

I smile. "Thank you," I say, bowing my head quickly. He smiles back. I assume they can all sit once I do, so I sit and scoot my chair in. Already, Ivan is cringing. Crap, what did I do?

Everyone sits down, and suddenly, a string of servants appear. Each one stands behind a chair, and scoots them in. Oh, I was supposed to wait for them? To push in my chair? But that hardly seems necessary…

"Good evening, foreign maiden." King Tamir says, smiling at me. "Don't you look stunning? I've always enjoyed a lady in red."

Ah, Ivan did pick this dress on purpose. However, he could have picked a better red one! This is not a good looking dress, so either the king's being polite or he's feeding me a line. Whatever the reason, it feels good to hear something besides scolding. I smile at him. "Thank you, your Majesty, and thank you for the amazing accommodations! My room is absolutely beautiful."

He continues to smile. "Beauty for beauty, and think nothing of it. Only the best for the one who is to pick the next king."

I find myself blushing. King Tamir nods, and the servants (who disappeared quickly and are now back) begin to put a number of elegant dishes in front of us. The food looks and smells so good, I can't think of anything to call it besides gorgeous. Uh oh, its family style!

I look around. Everyone is looking at me, and no one is reaching for anything. Right, the guest goes first. So much for being able to mimic others. Oh man…what do I do? I look at all the food and try to figure it out. Do I ask for something to be passed? How do I ask for it? What direction do I receive it? Pass it? Do I just reach out for whatever I want? How much do I take?

Prince Lambert looks annoyed. "First, you arrive late, and now you continue to keep the rest of us from eating?"

I look over at him. "I apologize, I don't know where to start."

I don't like admitting that, but perhaps someone will give me a hint as to what should happen next. They just continue to stare at me eagerly, except Prince Lambert, who sighs.

"Take whatever you like, surely Ivan went over that with you."

Ivan is going to kill me. I glance over at Ivan, and sure enough, his look matches my thoughts. Great, more scolding is coming my way. Well, since I'm already in trouble…

I pick up my plate, hold it close to some yummy looking chicken in front of me, and put some on my plate. I'm still getting stared at, so I continue. Couscous, falafel balls, and even a few things I don't recognize. I set my plate down. That was it, right? I try everything so no one is insulted?

I look around. I'm still getting stared at. I look from side to side. "What?"

Prince Alvah nods towards my plate. "Aren't you going to try it?"

"Oh, uh, yes, yes of course." I was going to wait for everyone else before starting, but apparently, I've goobered up yet again. I pick up my knife and fork and carve into the chicken. I stick a piece in my mouth and try to chew daintily, but this is easily the best chicken I've ever had in my life! It's so juicy and flavorful, and I'm immediately aware of how hungry I am. Before I can stop myself, I start shoveling food in like I haven't eaten in weeks. God, this is so good…

Prince Alvah starts laughing. "Wow, you sure can eat!"

The oldest prince, who's sitting right across from me, seems amused as well. "I like a woman with a healthy appetite."

I swallow my current bite and pause. "This is so delicious! You must have the best chefs in the world!" I go right back into my food.

Prince Lambert continues to look annoyed. "If you must insist on eating like a horse, perhaps you'd feel more comfortable in the palace stables."

I stop midbite. I look around. Everyone is eating calmly and modestly, and they're not all staring at me anymore. I don't really know what to say in return. Under different circumstances, I'd shove my face into my plate and eat like a pig to make everyone wish I was eating like a horse, but I can't very well do that now.

Prince Alvah peers around me towards Prince Lambert. "Got to be so harsh?"

Prince Lambert doesn't even bother to return the glance and stays concentrated on his plate. "If one is going to sit at this table, the proper etiquette should be obeyed."

The oldest prince kind of rolls his eyes, and the prince with the lilac hair looks up. "In some cultures, eating as such is considered a compliment."

I look over at him and smile (he had an odd name too, what was it?). His eyes go immediately back to his plate. Oh, that's right, he's a bit of an introvert. Prince Lambert ignores him and continues eating.

Prince Alvah chuckles. "The cooks will be pleased." He motions towards Lambert. "He's got the best manners out of all of us, want to guess who has the worst?"

Let me guess. "Me?"

He laughs. "No, it's me. I think you may have been seated between us for that reason, to see the right way and the wrong way."

"You? But you're doing so well! Why would you say that?" I eat another bite of chicken.

The maroon haired prince (I believe he's Prince Jun, that was an easier one to remember) on one side of the oldest scoffs. "He's right, he really needs to work on his manners."

Prince Alvah shoots Prince Jun an annoyed glance, then looks back at me. "It's true. I only look like I'm doing well because there's a guest to impress." He smiles at me.

Now it's my turn to laugh. As I do, I swallow the chicken wrong and start coughing. Despite Prince Alvah's relaxing words, I am mortified and don't know what to do. I can't stop coughing, but I can't exactly spit the chicken out. I look at my place setting in a panic as the eyes of everyone around me start to go wide. My eyes rest on the gold goblet in front of me. Water, yes! I need a drink! I grab it and start chugging.

Two things happen at once: I realize very quickly that I am drinking wine instead of water, and Prince Lambert smacks me on the back.

SLLLLLLLIIIIISSSSSHHHH!

My body lunges forward at the strength of the smack, and whatever wine didn't make it down my throat sprays out of my mouth. All eyes go wide, but none as wide as mine as I inhale deeply, the wine still burning my unprepared throat.

"Oh my…" I stutter out, looking at the wine covered food. "I am so sorry!" I look over at King Tamir, who's looking at me in shock. "Anna assifa, ya saheb as-samu, anna assifa!"

Before the King can say anything, the oldest prince (I still can't remember his name) looks over at Prince Lambert. "Why did you do that? You could have hurt her!"

The little one, Prince Nagit, is full of concern. "Are you alright, Miss?"

I'm about to nod when Prince Lambert's voice booms next to me.

"I was trying to help, I thought she was choking. Do you want a commoner dying at the dinner table?"

Commoner?! I whip my head towards him. "I wasn't choking, you can tell because I was still making sound, but for the record, never do that if someone is choking! You could make it worse!"

He looks surprised, but then his eyes go firm. "What are you, a medical professional?"

"No, I'm a teacher, but anyone can choke anytime and anywhere so one should always be prepared." I look over at Prince Nagit. "I'm alright, thank you for asking."

Next thing I know, Ivan is by my seat. "I'll take her back to her room at once, your Majesty."

King Tamir looks surprised. "Ivan, that's hardly necessary."

Ivan is already scooting my chair back. "Oh, but it is."

King Tamir shrugs. "Well, if you insist." He looks over at me. "I look forward to our next dinner."

He's probably the only one!