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Moralltach.
He rolled painfully to his hands and knees, his body groaning. He lifted his head. Mud and blood dripped onto the ground as he stared down the street after d’Argent.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
Chapter 2
Midsummer
Rose Citadel, North of England
The grand tournament was about to begin.
It was a perfect summer morn. The sky was clear and blue, the sun bright and hot, and a cool breeze lifted the pennants that fluttered from the castle walls and rustled the silken gowns worn by the noblewomen who filled the stands around the jousting arena.
Laughter was everywhere but in Cassia d'Argent's heart.
Being sold to the highest bidder did tend to put a damper on one's mood.
Ridiculous, she scolded herself.
She was not being sold. She was being...gifted.
To the highest bidder.
Or rather, to one of six high bidders, who would then have to beat all the other high bidders in a private joust. The man who won would become her new husband, and inherit the vast, bankrupt barony of Ware.
Of course, no one knew about that last part. Yet.
She was not eager to discover how her potential suitors might feel when they saw the true state of her father's ramshackle empire. Nevertheless, the title was what mattered: Baron Ware, and with it, access to and influence over the Crown. In these uncertain times, such positions were doubly, trebly important.
England’s King Richard was being held captive by the Holy Roman Emperor. His brother, Prince John, conspired with anyone who could be found—or paid—to support him.
In consequence, rebellion was practically a scent in the air, an ale that had made England drunk this past year. This tourney of Lord Yves’s was its brewing ground.
But amid the turmoil, her father, Lord Geoffrey d’Argent, Baron Ware, had stood loyal to his king.
Six feet tall and burly as an oak, he was a renowned swordsman. He might be at the southern edge of his prime, but it was still his prime, and he had stood by his captive king when so many others were tempted to turn.
It only made sense that an aspiring knight or two...or six would be maneuvering to become the next Baron of Ware.
The deals had been made and the private, elimination joust was scheduled: at dawn, on the final day of the tourney, while others battled on the mêlée field to win booty, six men would fight for the right to become her husband.
Everything about it was a dream come true for Cassia. She’d been lifted from her lonely castle to this world filled with color and music and chivalry. It was on display everywhere, in the bright tunics and polished steel of the grand knights.
It was the adventure of a lifetime. Her first and last one, and she meant to make the most of it.
And of course, she was ecstatic to be viewed as a prize to be won.
Ecstatic, she reminded herself.
A blare of trumpets snapped her ecstasy in half.
She sat in her father's box in the steep stands enclosing three sides of the main field of honor, where the opening ceremonies were being held. The walls were hung with fluttering tapestries, the seats filled with chattering nobles and higher gentry.
Villagers, merchants, and others not fortunate enough to warrant a seat in the stands stood along railings on the far side and spread out across the green fields.
Midway down the enclosure, on a raised, covered platform, sat the renowned, shadowy host of the tournament, Yves le Strange, Lord of Rose Citadel and its town, Gracious Hill.
