by B. B. Hamel
Starkland was beautiful. Even just having been in the country for less than an hour, I was already starting to fall in love with it. The whole place looked like it came right from that famous mountain meadow scene in The Sound of Music. It was picturesque, with rolling hills and majestic mountains and deep, dark forests. It was like a fantasy novel come to life or something.
And besides, I’d always wanted to know about my heritage. As far as I had heard, the Koch family had come to America with some of the original settlers. We were as American as possible, which meant we didn’t have a deep history. I wanted to know more about my bloodline, about the people I was descended from. As far as I could tell, this was my best chance to really understand my own history.
Finally, I wasn’t doing much back at home in Philadelphia. I was home on break from college, where I was studying to become a nurse, and I was bored as hell. I went to school at Temple University, which was right in the heart of Philadelphia. The suburbs were boring me to tears, and a trip to some tiny European country that I’d never heard of sounded like a lot more fun than working at Rite Aid for three months.
“It’s only two weeks,” I said finally. “Let’s just stay and see what happens. We can always leave later.”
Lucy nodded, looking smug. “See, Robert? She’s fine. She’ll apologize to the King and things will be fine.”
Dad frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked me.
“I’m sure. I won’t apologize, but we should stay.”
Lucy shot me another look, but I ignored her.
We were in a beautiful country, foreign and exotic. I was getting a chance to finally see where I came from, and all for free. Sure, I’d slapped the King in the face, but that would be smoothed over eventually. Besides, I doubted we’d even be seeing much of him again.
Not like I’d want to anyway. He was crude and totally out of line. So what if he was also incredibly handsome and had a grin that could melt glass? The man was a royal asshole, and that was all I needed to know.
As the car wound its way through the capital city of Stehen, I was already trying to put that cocky king out of my mind.
2
Trip
“Your highness, shall we have that impudent American arrested?”
I could still feel the slight sting on my cheek from where Bryce Koch had slapped me in front of the media. I smiled to myself again at the angry look in her eyes.
That was going to piss off the cabinet. I didn’t much care, though. They were a bunch of stuffed coats playing political games with each other. I was the king now, and I didn’t have to stoop down to their shitty level.
That American girl was the first person since I took the crown who had actually stood up to me. That meant she actually had a spine, and there was nothing I wanted more in a woman than fire and strength.
Bryce Koch seemed to have both in spades.
“No,” I said to the Foreign Affairs Minister Richter Johansson. “Leave the girl alone. I deserved it, actually.”
“What did you say to her?”
I shrugged. “Just mentioned my desire to get to know her better.”
“I’m sure.” Richter’s pursed lips screamed disapproval, but that was fine. I was used to disappointing the members of the royal cabinet, the powerful lords and ladies who helped run the government of Starkland.
Lynette Muller, the public affairs minister, shook her head. “This is going to look bad, Your Highness.”
I winced. “Stop calling me that. My name is Trip.”
She shrugged. “Very well, Trip. With the separatists in the south gaining ground since your father passed, we can’t afford for you to look weak.”
“Then do something about that.” I shrugged. “Leave the girl alone. She’s a guest here.”
“Very well.”
I liked Lynette, though she could wear on my patience with her strict etiquette. She was middle aged, blond, and thin. The other members of the cabinet called her the Pig Charmer behind her back, because she spent all her time trying to win over the public.
The other ministers could be a bunch of out-of-touch, aristocratic shit heels.
“Minister Muller has a point, Your Highness,” Richter said. I gave him a look and he frowned. “Okay, Trip. The rebels are gaining some support, although slowly. We can’t afford for you to look weak.”
I stared the man down and leaned forward. “I’m many things, Richter, but I am not weak.”
“We know that, Trip, but the people need to know it.”
“Fuck them,” I said, looking out the window, “and especially fuck the separatists.”
The separatists, or the Democratic Legion of Revolutionaries, were a huge pain in my ass. They began as a movement that wanted more democracy in Starkland and had bloomed into a full-on revolt when my father passed away two years ago.
None of this was meant for me, I thought for the hundredth time. If Leo hadn’t been so desperate for military glory, I’d still be living the life of a high-ranking minister. I wouldn’t have the responsibility of the entire nation resting squarely on my shoulders. That sort of responsibility was meant for my older brother, Leopold. He’d been born and bred for it, whereas I was never expected to amount to much.
Which suited me just fine. Starkland was a beautiful country full of beautiful women, and it was my pleasure to meet as many of them as I possibly could.
I’d met a lot in my time, right up until Leo died two months ago and the crown passed to me. Ever since then I was learning my new job and didn’t have time for the pleasures of my old life.
Frankly, I hadn’t so much as looked at a woman that way until Bryce Koch showed up. I couldn’t help but smirk at her the second she stepped off that plane. She was a few years younger than me, twenty-one, with long dark hair tied up in a thick bun. Her lips were full and her green eyes instantly took in everything around her. I loved the way her soft, pale skin looked underneath her dark clothing, and I wanted so badly to slowly strip her bare until I could see and taste every inch of her.
Which was why I couldn’t help myself. Normally I’d be polite to visiting guests, but she was just too delicious. I had to say something, just to test her.
And she passed that test with flying colors. She passed that test so well, the entire country was going to be talking about her for some time to come.
It was a shame that she didn’t know why she was really visiting Starkland. If Lynette had actually told the Kochs from the start, I doubted she would have been so shocked by my comment. Actually, they probably wouldn’t have come at all.
There were two big problems every king must face. The first problem was that of popularity. Even though a King had absolute authority, his ability to effectively rule could be seriously hampered if his popularity among his subjects was very low. The people’s opinion mattered, which was something I was coming to realize and respect more and more.
The second issue was that of succession. In Starkland, we did not have queens. Only men could truly rule. It was antiquated and out of date, but it was the way things worked, and it had worked for thousands of years. At this point in Starkland’s history, we weren’t going to be changing the rules of succession.
However, those rules could be a huge problem. If a king didn’t have a male heir to pass the crown down to, succession could get tricky. In the case of my brother, I was the clear successor since he didn’t have a son. But if I were to get killed, the country would be in anarchy.
And so Lynette had found the Koch family. They happened to solve both of my problems in one neat, sexy little package named Bryce.
Five hundred years ago or something like that, Bryce’s family had ruled Starkland. When the King died without a clear male heir, there was some major political battle for who would take over the throne. Eventually my family won out and Bryce’s family was tossed out of the country.
They had been popular, though, and there was still a positive, lingering sentimental feeling about Bryce’s ancient royal f
orebears.
And, of course, Bryce was a woman. She was capable of having children.
Lynette’s plan was simple. We invite the Kochs out here and then we offer them a deal. If Bryce agreed to marry me, we’d set them up for life. They’d never have to worry about a thing ever again. We’d bring them into the aristocracy and all of their wants would be taken care of.
A pretty damn good deal, if you asked me. All Bryce needed to do was marry me, and then I could get the benefits of her ancient family lineage plus the potential to put a male heir in her stomach.
It all seemed so simple when we first talked about it. I wasn’t much interested in marrying a strange girl, but my control of the country needed a boost, and I couldn’t deny that a male heir would help a whole ton. I was willing to give it a shot, at least.
It seemed easy, right up until Bryce slapped me across the face.
I looked out the window at the city rolling by. It was my city, my favorite place in the world. I used to live in an apartment right downtown, and I could walk around the place just like anyone else. As it turned out, being the younger brother of the true heir meant nobody really cared much about me, which was just what I wanted.
But now I was stuck in the castle, away from the city and the people I loved. Ruling was boring, but it was important. I wished I could go back to my old ways, but the country needed me. They needed me to step up and rule them as well as I possibly could.
I didn’t need a distraction. In fact, my advisors had been working very hard to get rid of distractions.
But as soon as that girl hit me in the face, I knew she was going to take a lot of my attention. I was already hard just thinking about all the attention I wanted to give her.
I was King Christophe Werner von Brunhild the Third, Prince of the Lowlands, King of Starkland, and I was going to marry that fiery American Bryce Koch and get her pregnant if it was the last thing I did.
3
Bryce
I’d never been in a castle before. Americans didn’t have castles. There wasn’t the kind of history in America that there was in Europe. There just wasn’t anything that old.
But this Starklandian castle was gorgeous. It looked like something out of an internet search for “perfect euro castles.” It was all high stone walls and tall spires jutting up into the air. The city had clearly grown up around the castle, sprawling out away from it. Modernity met the ancient right in the heart of the city.
As far as I could tell from the car, that was the best description of Starkland possible. The modern world and the ancient world pressed up against each other everywhere I looked, from old-looking fountains to a high-speed rail line. Electricity and cable lines twisted through the air right next to two-hundred-year-old, Victorian-era streetlamps. The buildings were a mix of old and new construction with seemingly nothing to separate it.
Stehen was a city of juxtapositions and mixtures. It was a hybrid city, where the old met the new and created something absolutely beautiful.
I was already enamored with Starkland when we finally pulled up inside the castle’s courtyard, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next.
I thought I understood what a castle would be like. I’d seen movies and TV shows, and I figured I had a good idea. But as we walked into the main building, I realized I was absolutely wrong.
Just like the city, Stehen’s castle was a hodgepodge of the modern and the ancient. Our guide, a man named Maximilian Josef who had a bushy white mustache and looked like he was two hundred years old himself, pointed out some of the history as we moved. Next to a computer terminal was a painting over three hundred years old. The stones were all original, but the lavish rugs and tapestries were all additions over the years. I almost jumped into the air when he told us that the rug we were walking on was over a hundred years old.
As we walked along, I couldn’t help but stare at the sheer amount of wealth lining the walls. I’d never seen such opulence and modernity before in my whole life. Everything was electronically controlled on touch screens, and the little control panels were all over the place. They were well hidden, though, behind million-dollar statues and mirrors with golden frames. It seemed as though everything we passed had some historical importance.
Finally, we reached our rooms. We were staying in the east wing of the castle, which was reserved for foreign dignitaries and other important guests. Maximilian stopped in front of an ornate red door and opened it with his handprint, pressing his palm against a flat screen next to the knob.
“This will be your room, Miss Koch,” he said, nodding at me. “Before entering, please place your hand here.”
I followed his instructions, putting my hand on the screen. It beeped once.
“Okay. This door will now open to your palm print. Come inside, please.”
I followed him in and my breath was taken away.
Inside the room was an enormous four-poster bed, a full-sized fireplace, rich velvet and mahogany furniture, and my own private bathroom with modern amenities. There was even my own little touch screen on the inside that controlled everything from the temperature down to the humidity.
“There is Wi-Fi throughout the building should you need it,” Maximillian said. “To access, simply select the option on the screen and use your palm print. Your bags will arrive shortly.” He turned to my father and my stepmother. “And if you’ll follow me, you’re right next door.”
Dad smiled and waved at me. “See you in a bit, kid.”
“Bye, Dad.”
The three of them left and I stared at the room.
I couldn’t believe this place was mine. It was the size of a large apartment, way too big for one person, and yet apparently I’d be staying in it for two weeks. My apartment at school was probably smaller than this room.
And everything looked so expensive that I was afraid to touch it. As I gently tapped at the touch screen, looking at all the options, there was a knock at my door.
For a second, I thought it was going to be the secret police come to drag me to jail for striking the King.
Instead, it was a young man in a porter’s uniform with my bags. He quickly brought the bags in and then left without so much as looking me in the eye.
It was a strange and bizarre experience, being treated like royalty. So far, I couldn’t really say that I liked it, exactly, but I could see how it could get comfortable.
I unpacked my things and finally found myself lying in the middle of the bed. I didn’t have anywhere to be for an hour or two, so I began to do some research.
I realized that I didn’t know anything about the king I had slapped in the face. It took me only a few minutes to find his Wikipedia page, and from there I began to read.
Christophe Werner von Brunhild the Third went by Trip, a childhood nickname. He was one of the youngest rulers in the history of Starkland at only twenty-eight years old. He came to power when his older brother, Leopold Franz Karl Brunhild, was killed while fighting some rebels in the south of the country.
I frowned to myself. I didn’t know there were rebels in Starkland. The place seemed so nice and the people seemed so happy, but then again I’d only seen the main capital city so far. I didn’t know what it was like out in the countryside.
From what I could gather, the rebels started out as a protest movement. They wanted more democracy in Starkland. When the old king died, Trip and Leopold’s father, the protestors turned violent and soon a full-blown rebellion had formed.
I frowned. I had to admit, I sympathized with their need for democracy. It seemed wrong that Trip and his family were fighting these people and killing them just because they wanted the right to vote, like every citizen in America had.
I shook my head and sighed. I was getting off track. I clicked back and began to read more about Trip himself.
It took me ten minutes to realize that Trip was incredibly notorious in Starkland.
His older brother, Leopold, seemed like a favorite of the people. Trip w
as never supposed to rule in the first place, and as far as I could tell, Trip spent his time partying and drinking. So far, he had only been king for a few months. There were pictures of Trip with all different women, each one more beautiful than the last. He was a tabloid sensation in Starkland, and they even called him the Partying Prince, though I hoped the phrase sounded a little better in Starklandian.
I read article after article about Trip. I read about him drinking with Prince Harry of England, about him getting thrown out of a bullfight in Spain, about him stealing his father’s car at sixteen and crashing it into a lake. He was famous for his beer-drinking exploits and his womanizing.
In short, Trip was exactly the kind of man I thought he was. He was the kind of man who would whisper an extremely dirty and inappropriate comment into the ear of a total stranger.
But he was also handsome as hell. I understood how he got away with what he did. There was something magnetic about Trip, and I could see it even in the pictures online.
As I clicked on yet another tabloid article about Trip, I heard a knock at my door.
Without thinking, I stood up and padded over to the door. The stone floor was strangely warm under my feet, which surprised me.
I took the handle and pulled it open.
Trip grinned at me, his beautiful blue eyes staring into mine. He looked even better now than he had earlier in a pair of tailored dress pants and a white dress shirt, tucked in, the top button undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I could see tattoos inked on his forearms, disappearing up his sleeves.
I blinked, surprised, and couldn’t say a word.
4
Trip
The worst part of being a king was not being able to do whatever I wanted.