Chapter 1
The blast of gunfire pierced Aria's eardrums and forced her to freeze. Although she wanted to flee, she couldn't. Lying in a pool of blood, royal guards gunned down her mother. Sophia, her mother, had protected Aria, until her last dying breath, from those monsters.
At eighteen, women were required to come before the king and his four sons, to offer themselves as a courtesan. The princes took only those they found most attractive and alluring. The rest were returned to their homes with a brand on their wrist proving they had been through the process and rejected.
Sophia sheltered her daughter from the tradition, knowing that Aria would be most appealing to Prince Henry. Everyone in the kingdom knew that he searched for a virgin with green eyes, an emerald, a rarity in this part of the world, after the horrific genocide that had slaughtered millions.
Lucky Aria was born with blue eyes during the war. At age seven, the color gradually shifted from blue to green. The war may have ended, but she would never be safe. Democracy had fallen and a king had risen in its place.
The king had a desire for virgin flesh, and when his sons reached eighteen, they were given a monthly allotment of young women to choose from.
How had the palace gotten wind of Aria's existence? Once her eyes had changed from the blue of the ocean to the green of the grass, the young girl had been kept inside the cottage, sheltered from others. Of course, she snuck out, catching a glimpse of moonlight and stars speckling the night sky, but she always stayed close to home. In her years growing up, she had befriended Ethan, her nearest neighbor, who had only a few years on her. The boys were the lucky ones, never having to come before the court and offer themselves to the throne, whether they wanted to or not.
The ceremony at eighteen was supposed to be an honor. On the fifteenth of every month, the women who had reached eighteen were brought into court and presented to the princes. Women who were accepted were supposedly lavished in luxury. No one knew what happened, because those women didn't return home, ever. Aria didn't buy it. Not with the way those men had stormed into her home and murdered her mother.
"You're coming with us," the taller of the two men said. He grabbed Aria's waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She kicked and her arms flailed, trying to fight back. It did no good, as she was small in size and stature.
Aria should have known she couldn't hide forever. It had been five years since her eighteenth birthday. She began to think she'd been long forgotten. At night, she prayed that luck would be on her side. Birth records were lost in the war along with most of the government's historical records and documents. Aria had hoped hers had burned in the fires that had ravaged the city.
At twenty-three, she would be sentenced to death if a prince didn't choose her, for disobeying the laws of the kingdom.
"Sedate her," the man standing by the door said. He was the one who'd fired the shot that killed Aria's mother.
Aria screamed as loud as her lungs would let her, "Help!"
No one could hear her pleas in the cottage in the middle of nowhere. Even if someone would have been nearby, no one would be stupid enough to face off with the royal guards.
The scorching sun blinded Aria as the guard carried her out into the heat. Her forehead glistened with sweat, and a needle pierced her arm. Her vision waivered, but she fought the sensation as her eyelids drooped.
"No!" she attempted to scream, but the sound came out more like a faint whisper, begging for release. "Please. Let me go."
"Can't do that," the man carrying Aria said.
The second man opened the back of the van and tossed the girl inside. She worried she may never experience freedom again. Her eyes shut, and she passed out.
Aria woke to the sound of rushing water, and her eyes flashed open. Where had they taken her?
Fluffy and soft beneath her, she sunk into the mattress. Were they trying to show her the pleasure of being a slave to the prince? Aria saw nothing she wanted to be a part of. Her mother was dead. She swallowed the sadness and fear and sat up.
Dressed in a robe, she couldn't help but wonder who had taken her clothes? She clenched the plush garment around her naked body, uncomfortable.
"Don't be shy," a woman said as she brought a pitcher of water and a glass beside the bed. "You should drink. The sedative can be quite dehydrating." She poured half a glass and handed it to Aria. "I'm Clara," she said, introducing herself.
"Aria." She sipped the water, feeling it slide down her throat. Holding the cold glass forced a tingle through her hands and arms.
She felt the older woman's stare. It was probably because Aria had green eyes.
Clara didn't comment on them, but she also couldn't tear her gaze away either. "You look a bit older than the other girls brought in," Clara said.
Aria considered lying about her age, but what good would it do? The men had come to her home and dragged her to court. It wasn't as though she willingly arrived here on her own when expected.
"I'm twenty-three," Aria said and placed the empty glass on the nightstand.
Clara's expression grew grim. "I see. There's no time to get ready. You slept through the preparations. You are to follow me to be presented to the four princes."
Aria planted her feet on the ground and shivered from the cold marble floor.
"Come with me, and leave your robe in here."
Though she didn't want to go or do as she'd been told, what choice did she have? How far could she get on foot? Besides, her house was now property of the court because her mother had hidden Aria and lied to the king. If Aria were to survive, she had only one chance.
Aria stepped out of the robe and raised her right arm to cover her breasts and her other hand to cover her most intimate parts. She didn't like this one bit.
"Don't be shy. Believe me, we've seen it all before," Clara said and walked out of the room.
Aria hesitated but followed her out into the hallway. Forty young women stood naked in the hall.
The young emerald stalked past an array of women with their hair down in curls or wrapped in braids. Her dark locks were brushed but in no way elegant. Many of the women wore makeup, their eyelids coated in rich blues and greens. Were they trying to make their eyes more appealing for Prince Henry?
Another girl Aria passed in the hall wore cherry red lipstick. "Want a kiss, darling?" she asked and puckered her lips. Aria guessed the girl didn't like her staring.
There were women at both sides of the hall, and Clara found an open space and positioned Aria against the cold stone material. She shivered, and her nipples hardened from the temperature.
"Hands down, ladies," a voice echoed through the small, confined space.
Aria turned her head as King Gideon walked down the hall in their direction.
The women dropped their arms and stood up straight, proud.
Aria kept her intimate parts covered as best she could, not wanting to be there. The king strolled toward her and stopped, staring at her.
"What did I say, young lady?"
Was he going to humiliate Aria in front of everyone? "My hands are down," Aria said. They were covering herself. He didn't say hands up!
The king stepped forward and grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. His eyes raked over her body before meeting Aria's eyes. His stare lingered, recognizing the green irises. "Henry will take a liking to you, perhaps. How old are you?" King Gideon asked.