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  Waiting here is torture. I try to spend my time working through what I’ve memorized of Lord Godfrey’s native language when the king suddenly doubles over. His physician quickly steps to his side and produces a golden chalice from beneath his robes. Blood is spat into it, and my heart feels a pang of guilt for how bitterly I’ve thought of Father recently. But the emotion is swept away just as quickly as it came when the doors are thrown open.

  A long line of soldiers marches in and forms a double line down the center of the Great Hall. The scent of lavender is almost sickening now. They stop and turn to face each other, creating an aisle of sorts.

  My betrothed certainly doesn’t mind creating a scene.

  A slender man, frail and aged, hurries down the aisle and bows slightly before the throne. For a moment, I am terrified that this is Lord Godfrey, but then he speaks in a voice more booming than I could have ever guessed would come out of such a thin man.

  “I am pleased to announce the arrival of his royal eminence, appointed sovereign of the Forgotten Isles, Lord Damien Orien Godfrey!”

  The Forgotten Isles. I don’t remember learning about them. Perhaps that’s exactly why they’re named as such. Even so, you’d think father would have chosen a more prestigious-sounding noble to be united with.

  The soldiers stomp, drawing out their swords and crossing them in the air. The room goes eerily silent as everyone waits with bated breath. Apparently, I am not the only one who hasn’t met the man yet.

  I can see a shadow moving slowly toward us beneath the raised swords, which are then sheathed as the shadow passes. It’s quite a show.

  At the back of the hall, a rather large assortment of people and creatures has filed in, most likely Lord Godfrey’s servants, gifts, and various other necessities. Gods forbid he travel with less than a hundred people in tow. I’m surprised by the quietness of it all. Even the animals are silent.

  After what seems like an eternity, a man steps out from the last set of raised swords and I have to catch my breath.

  Everything I’ve heard about him, however little it has been, has not done him justice.

  Lord Godfrey is more than tall—he is a mountain. I’m not even sure how he managed to make it from beneath the swords unscathed. As he straightens himself to his full height, he stands nearly two heads taller than any of his guards, who are already taller than most of the men from our kingdom. I can’t help but wonder how insignificant I’ll feel standing next to him; I am no tall creature myself.

  No wonder he arrived the way he did. If the guards hadn’t disguised his walk down the Great Hall, I would have seen him far before he even entered the room.

  His hair is darker than any I’ve ever seen. It almost seems to absorb what little light tries to touch it. It hasn’t been combed down or hidden by wigs like most nobles I’ve met; in fact, it’s rather rakishly pushed to the side, strands cascading gently across his forehead in a manner that makes my heart skip a beat.

  I’m embarrassed with myself. I’m not supposed to feel anything for this man. I have to keep myself in check.

  I try to pull my eyes away, but I can’t keep myself from staring. I’m too far away to see his eyes, but that doesn’t keep me from looking at the rest of him.

  His face is astonishingly beautiful. Angelically…no, perhaps demonically beautiful. I don’t believe angels could kill with a single look, but I get the sense this man could.

  His jaw is strong, but not overly defined. His nose perfectly aligned, not a crooked line to it. And his mouth…His pouty lips curve ever so slightly up at the corners, making him look even more wickedly handsome.

  He’s very well dressed, although his forest green brocade doublet has been left unbuttoned. The shirt below is un-tied, leaving a deep V that reveals more chest than I’ve seen on a man in my entire life. On anyone else, I’m sure this would look immensely inappropriate for a royal setting, but on him, it looks just right.

  I tear my eyes away from his smooth chest, hoping to drop my eyes to the floor to keep myself from becoming more interested in the man whom I am supposed to hate. I still have a deep and aching pit in my stomach, but I ache elsewhere too. And not in an altogether unpleasant way.

  My eyes never make it to the floor. I bite my lip. Lord Godfrey is wearing trousers unlike any I’ve ever seen, at least not in this kingdom. They are a dark, velvety black, but that’s not out of the ordinary or what has drawn the blood to my face. Covering his groin is a hard, rather large piece of fabric, stitched carefully on with gold thread…and it stands up!

  I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s as if he’s already naked, standing erect before me.

  I’ve never actually seen a man naked. I’ve read and heard tales of what lies between their legs, but this is not what I expected.

  I am starting to fear what happens between a man and wife…and him in particular. No wonder the girls cry.

  A sound from the king interrupts my indecent thoughts and I blink perhaps for the first time in several minutes. I only just now realize how wide my eyes must have been as it hurts to blink, tears welling up in my dry eyes.

  Finally able to lower my eyes to the floor, I notice his shoes. How odd. While the people in our kingdom, and most that I’ve met from the foreign emissaries sent here, wear leather slippers or sandals, his shoes, made of gold brocade, curl up at the end, causing his feet to look twice as long as I’m sure they are. The thought sends a secret smile to my face as I try to keep from laughing.

  “Lord Godfrey, I hope your journey was most pleasant. We have—” The king coughs and spits more blood into the chalice. “We have been awaiting your arrival with great anticipation.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lord Godfrey says in a voice as rich as velvet. “My journey was not without its troubles, but I am pleased to have arrived in one piece.”

  It takes all my resolve to keep my eyes glued to the floor. A primal piece of me aches to watch his mouth move as he speaks while my heart screams to run.

  “Very well. Let the ceremony begin!” the king says. “We shall begin with the questions of formality. When you are ready, Lord Godfrey.”

  I feel the tension in the room rise, and I am suddenly even more nervous than before. I’m afraid I will pass out, and this tight dress isn’t helping matters.

  “Please,” Lord Godfrey says, his voice silken and luring. “Step forward.”

  I know this is directed at me, and if I had any willpower left, I’d have stayed glued to the ground whence I stood. However, no sooner has he spoken than I find myself gliding down the steps to stand before him, his massive body towering over me.

  I somehow manage to keep my eyes to the ground, fixating on his funny shoes to help keep some semblance of my resolve intact.

  “Good,” he says, his voice deep and commanding.

  I feel like a pet having obeyed its master. This is far from what I want, but I cannot seem to pull myself away.

  “Annalise.” My name drips from his mouth like warm chocolate and I nearly beg him to take me then and there.

  Control yourself, my inner voice commands and the pain in my stomach starts again. I know something isn’t right about all of this, but I can’t quite put my finger on what. My head is starting to spin, so I breathe in and quiet my thoughts. Instantly I feel better. I do my best to keep my head clear of thought as I wait for the ceremony to proceed.

  “Have you bled?”

  I hadn’t been prepared for the questions. I suppose it was to keep me from rehearsing answers. I’m so surprised by the bluntness of the question, and in the company of so many people, I cannot help but answer as quickly as possible.

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been a woman?”

  A funny question, but I know what he means.

  “Three years. I bloomed late.”

  “Have you been with another man?”

  “No,” I say indignantly.

  “Has your maidenhood been checked?”

  “No…I…I
don’t know what you mean.”

  I can sense anger rise in him. “You said she would be ready.” The question is directed at the king.

  “I can assure you, she has only been surrounded by women since her mother died,” Father says. “There is no need to worry. Her wing of the castle is off-limits to men, besides the guards, of course.”

  He growls low, but I am sure I am the only one close enough to hear it. “Fine, but she must be formally checked before the wedding night.”

  “As you wish,” the king says.

  “My final question then. Have you been with a woman?”

  I gasp, shocked at the question. I admit that growing up with only women around me and only one true companion, people have made remarks before, but I still find the question to be completely uncalled for. I have never given anyone reason to think I’ve done anything less than proper…at least not in the way he means. I gather myself before answering in as lofty a manner as I can manage without being scolded by Father.

  “No.”

  “Very well. I deem you innocent and a maiden. I shall have you,” he says, or rather, demands. “However, I have certain conditions that must be met.”

  I bow my head in acknowledgment without realizing I’ve done so until it’s too late.

  “First, your maids and governess, anyone who has up until now been allowed alone with you in your room will be replaced by those of my own choosing. Second, you will come when bade and sup with me each night. Third, you will not speak with anyone without my express consent and approval. Finally, your linens and every garment you place on your body shall only be white until the wedding as a sign that you are pure. For the wedding ceremony, you will wear red to signify that you are now taken. One of the many customs from my own country that you will grow to accept.”

  His words are odd and deeply troubling to me, but the more I try to wrap my head around what he’s saying, the more my head grows foggy.

  “Accept,” he says. It’s not a question.

  “I accept,” I say, although every part of my being is screaming not to. I’m sure I had intended for something very different to come out of my mouth, but I can’t bring the thought to surface in my mind now.

  “Excellent,” he says with a chilling warmth, stepping forward and taking my shoulders in his large hands. “As the formalities have been appeased, I believe we can start the celebration.” He tucks a finger beneath my chin and raises my face to meet his, allowing me to see his eyes for the first time.

  Rosa wasn’t fooling me.

  His eyes are indescribable beneath his thick brows. Even as his face moves ever so gently toward me, his eyes shift from black to violet, to blue, to green, and back to black. I am captivated and yet terrified by them as he looks deep into my own.

  I feel an icy pain shoot through my heart, and I gasp as I raise my hands to clench at my heart. He smiles rakishly, causing confusing, unwanted tingles to spread through my groin.

  “You will learn to accept your feelings,” he says so only I can hear. “You will love me.” His violet eyes smolder as he kisses me gently on the forehead. Turning, Damien shouts, “Let the feast begin!”

  Cheers rise up from the crowd alongside my ever-growing unease.

  Lord Godfrey snaps his fingers and the soldiers hurriedly move to help arrange tables and chairs as the king orders food to be served.

  Within minutes, the guests have been seated and the food is streaming in.

  The scent of roast pheasant and suckling pig fill the room alongside fragrant cheese and warm bread. Sweet wines and mead slosh into cups as the room begins to fill with the hum of conversation.

  “Come,” Lord Godfrey says. Taking my hand in his, he leads me to our place at the head table. He pulls out a chair and indicates for me to sit, which I do before he takes his own to the left of the king.

  Seated here, I am finally able to have some thoughts of my own. The more everything that just happened sinks in, the more my stomach twists. I don’t know what happened, but the Annalise who just agreed to a lifetime of indentured servitude…that wasn’t me.

  As if reading my thoughts, my betrothed is suddenly pouring a large glass of sweet wine. He hands it to me, and I take it without thinking.

  “Oh! The king has asked me not to drink,” I say hastily as I try to hand the cup back in panic.

  “You are mine, and you will drink if I say you can.”

  My eyes flit to the king’s face. He frowns but seems otherwise unperturbed.

  I gulp down the wine much faster than I should, and Lord Godfrey is quick to refill it.

  The wine is rich, sweet, and far heavier than anything I’ve ever tasted. I take a long draught from the second glass and feel my head start to spin. I should eat something.

  Grabbing a warm roll from one of the plates piled in front of us, I scarf it down. I know it’s unbecoming, but I need something to soak up the wine. Lord Godfrey is watching me. He seems bemused by my behavior, but I do my best to ignore him, instead focusing on selecting which of the various meats and cheeses I am to eat next.

  I pull the knife I use when dining from the small belt at my waist, only to find a large hand gripping my wrist the next moment. I look up questioningly.

  Taking my knife, he lays it down on the table in front of him and then stands.

  “I have gifts.” His voice barrels out across the Great Hall, the sounds of feasting dying away almost instantly.

  Snapping his fingers, several of the servants in the back rush forward carrying various golden chests. Most are placed before Father, and I see as he opens them that each is filled with a different precious material. The first is nearly overflowing with gold, the second emeralds, the third rubies, and so on. The king smiles, looking satisfied before spitting blood once again.

  “And this,” Lord Godfrey says, “is for you.” He places a small mother-of-pearl box on the table in front of me. “Open it.”

  I hesitate, but curiosity gets the better of me and I lift the lid. Inside sits a dagger. The hilt is made of white mother-of-pearl, just like the box, with silver filigree and small, sparkling diamonds intertwining themselves in delicate patterns. It’s the most beautiful knife I’ve ever seen.

  “It’s lovely,” I say, “but the knife you took from me was my mother’s. It’s one of the few things I have left to remember her by.”

  Lord Godfrey frowns, his black eyes glowering at me, but he calmly says, “It is time to stop living in the past and prepare for the future. This will be your new knife, and you will use it daily.”

  Before I can protest, he takes Mother’s knife from the table and places it in his own belt.

  I feel tears welling up in my eyes. How can he be so cruel?

  He claps his hands loudly, and once again his servants at the far end of the hall move into action.

  “I know you will not always understand my actions, but I hope you will learn to accept that I know best. As a sign of my intentions toward you, I have one final gift. Actually, three to be exact,” Lord Godfrey says, his blue eyes smoldering at me in a way that makes my body shiver with delight.

  Gasps, small shrieks, and the sound of scraping chairs force me to pull my eyes away from Lord Godfrey’s face and see what’s causing such a commotion.

  I’m sure my eyes are playing tricks on me, but after a moment, I realize they’re not. Making his way toward us is a very muscular servant grasping three thick chains, and connected to the chains are three unusually large snow leopards!

  Their snarling faces do nothing to take away from their beauty, but I can’t help but feel sorry for them. The collars around their necks are bejeweled, but I can tell that the inner rims are lined with spikes from the way the creatures wince when their chains are pulled.

  Reaching our table, the servant kicks them into seated positions, and I cringe at the abuse.

  “These,” Lord Godfrey says, “are yours to keep. They shall be your guards and your constant companions. Wherever you go, they shall follow.�
��

  I’m shocked. I hadn’t expected him to give them to me as pets, but I am suddenly thrilled by the thought. I had expected a far worse outcome for them, but perhaps by my side, they can actually know a kinder hand. If none of us will know the pleasures of freedom, at least we can have each other.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Thank you, Damien,” Lord Godfrey corrects, his green eyes almost laughing.

  “Thank you, Damien. I shall cherish them,” I say.

  The leopards are chained to the table by my side, and Lord Godfrey resumes his meal, ignoring me for the rest of the evening as he discusses business with Father. I am more than happy with this, as I spend the rest of the evening looking at my new companions.

  Three white leopards. The most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen. But there is something off about them. It takes me a few minutes to finally realize what’s bothering me about them.

  It’s their eyes.

  Each a different color.

  Blue.

  Green.

  Violet.

  Four

  Li

  The moment I see Annalise standing beside the throne, her lilac dress clinging to every curve of her body, I want her, and I can sense Ero and Roan do too.

  I want to run to her, warn her of the danger she’s in, but I can’t. The chain around my neck digs in as the beast in me involuntarily tries to pull me toward her. I manage to stop myself before I draw blood.

  I’m generally looked to as the leader of the flurry, and I do my best to keep our beasts in check, but today we are all on edge. This isn’t going to be easy.

  “By four winds,” Ero says, opening a channel of thought between myself and Roan, “when are these rituals ever going to end?”

  Roan snorts. “Ye ken full well nothing is going to change until Damien finds the one. Sounds funny when I say it that way.”

  “Of course, but this…woman. I mean, have you taken a good look at her?” Ero asks. “If it were me, man-me I mean, standing next to her, I’d have her bedded in an instant. Do you have any idea how much harder it’s going to be this time around?”