Chapter 1
From His Majesty the King
Fifth of Martz, the year of Lionel, 2463
Dear Compatriot of Tarlè Kingdom:
Join us this weekend for the celebration of the Claiming. This year’s pick, Penelope Farris, daughter of Jesha and Marvus Farris, will step forward to be claimed in lawful ceremony to all possible male candidates.
Male matches take heed. The spirited dancer will require a gentle touch to capture.
His Majesty,
Lionel Edward Richard Hargrowe
King of Tarlè
The font, elegant and crisp, thick and black, scrawled across the fine parchment paper in curving sweeps. Occupying the lower right-hand corner of the letter rested the royal seal stamped in viscous, ruby-red wax, like blood.
Ryon Amadeus Ward read the royal missive word for word before crumpling the letter in his fist.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The messenger who’d delivered the letter stepped back at the edge in his voice. Of course the messenger wasn’t to blame, but that didn’t keep anger from rising like a volcano about to erupt.
“W-well, you see, the king—”
Forget it, he thought, instantly regretting asking the boy. Even worse than this omen in written form was this boy’s bumbling.
The general dismissed him with a wave and the boy escaped with a mumbled “Thanks.”
The sun had yet to reach mid-day and already an ache blared at his temples in full force. This was shaping up to be a bad day.
He took a seat at his desk and pulled his silver-edged knife out from the bottom drawer, locking the drawer again afterward. Leather handled and sharpened weekly, the blade could cut through skin without added pressure.
Meanwhile, his mind churned, ticking by like a well-greased clock.
Penelope Farris would be available for claiming.
An uncomfortable pressure filled his chest, making him rub the spot. These emotions she’d always managed to suck out of him never ceased to surprise him. His feelings for her were too strong, he knew; fierce with possession and greed. He must have her. No other woman had ever given him such pause for thought.
I will have her.
She would be his. Completely his.
She must have known the king had selected her for claiming in advance. And she hadn’t come to him to tell him. Was this some sign? A challenge from her? But she knew where he stood, knew that he had no qualms about claiming her. It had been his intention all along. Even if he’d never voiced as much, he’d made his attentions well known through his actions. It was she who was hesitant with him. If only he could figure out how to surpass her defenses— something he’d been attempting for two years now. All this time he has waited for her to come around.
Certainly she must know he’d find out. What did she get by not telling him herself? Just what was she up to?
Surging to his feet, he nearly toppled the chair backward, but caught it. He shrugged into his worn, brown, suede overcoat before heading out into the chilly air. The door should have slammed behind him, but he had far more control than that. His hands nearly trembled with the focused, calm mindset he kept. He was the general. It was his duty to keep his composure at all times.
Wait until he got his hands on her…he’d like to wring her thin little neck.
Ha! He’d laugh if he could. As if he could ever lay a hand on her in anything other than care and passion.
Penelope Farris was the only woman he’d ever fancied for his own. She’d been as impenetrable as a fort to his advances. And that was on the best of days. Normally he might have moved on by now, but she had lodged a place in his heart two years ago and had never left. The elusive dancer proved difficult to trap for something as simple as a conversation. Penelope seemed to forever be eluding him to slip back into the shadows and disappear. All the while her eyes flashed with open, sensual invitation at him like she wanted to climb atop him.
Frustrating barely began to cover how he felt about Pen.
She’d pushed his hand with this. These weren’t normal circumstances anymore. Not even close.
Now she was at risk for any male who wanted her. Anyone could stand up there during her Claiming Day and fight for a chance to have her as wife. The Claiming Ceremony, and the winner of it, won exclusive rights to the female. He had a time limit now. Until week’s end.
It was only the first of the week. Five days was not a long time, but he was general of King Hargrowe’s army and his ability to strategize better than anyone made him exceptional at his job. He wouldn’t let anyone touch her, anyone but him. Even if his life depended on it.
Slipping his knife holster across his chest, Ryon untethered his horse from the post out front of his house and took off. His destination: Prima Donna’s. The dance club where Penelope worked as part of the last known ballet troupe.