The entire household was in an uproar. It figured. She had stayed away from her home just long enough to return with her family in the middle of a crisis. Well, at least a crisis according to her younger sister, Penelope.

“I absolutely cannot marry that monster!” Penelope shouted, flinging down one of her finest dresses like it was nothing more than a rag. “Father is out of his mind and has no regard for me whatsoever!”

Steele heaved a sigh and tried to ignore her sister’s whining by turning to the window and letting her attention drift to the rolling green hills of her homeland. She wrinkled her nose. No, that didn’t make things any better. She missed the sea, and she missed the forest. The sprawling plains of Norden were not her cup of tea. Never had been.

“Do you know I had the worst nightmare the other night,” Penelope went on. “I dreamed he had me tied to an altar and was going to sacrifice me to his dark gods! And he was a gruesome, hideous beast with scales and talons!”

Steele suppressed a groan and turned back to her sister with what she knew had to be a pained expression. “Penelope, please, the man does not have scales and talons. And I highly doubt he’s going to sacrifice you to any gods.”

Penelope stuck her lip out in a petulant pout and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “How do you know, Steele? You haven’t even been here. You’ve never seen him, or met him. You’ve been off gallivanting on the coast with those ridiculous Ryffsalli scum.” She snorted and waved her hands in disgust. “I can’t imagine why you would want to help the creatures that used to be our enemies. It’s a hair’s breadth away from betraying your own family.”

Steele sighed in agitation. “The Ryffsalli never did a thing to anyone. Father just decided to attack them because they were different. They weren’t our enemies at all until he almost annihilated the entire race.”

Penelope sniffed. “I’m surprised Father didn’t disown you when you ran off to become one of their knights.”

Steele’s lips twisted into a smirk. “He can’t disown me. I’m the only one who can protect the Arshwyns. He’s crippled and you can’t even lift a butter knife without hurting yourself. The Ryffsalli respect me. I am one of their highest ranking knights. Because they respect me, they don’t come and kill you all in your beds. I keep the peace. You should be thanking me for being one of their knights. Now, about this marriage—”

Penelope threw her hands up into the air dramatically. “He’s a cruel, evil man, Steele! He practices the dark arts! I know he does because people in town say so!”

“Oh yes, and the people in town have always been able to be counted on for their accuracy,” Steele muttered with heavy sarcasm.

“Father is sentencing me to death!” Penelope shouted, ignoring her sister. “How can he even ask this of me? He is willing to send me off to my execution just because my marrying Lord Venegoth will bring him more land and power!” She huffed. “Why can’t you marry him, Steele? Why didn’t Father ask you?”

Steele snorted and leaned against the castle room window. “Because he knows that if he tries to get me to do anything at all that I don’t want to do, I’ll just return to the coast and leave him with his wounded pride.”

“But you are the eldest,” she persisted. “Is it not customary for the eldest to marry first? At least you can protect yourself when he tries to sacrifice you. There’s no hope for me!” She flung herself down on her bed in a melodramatic flourish. “The law states that you could take my place at my wedding. That during an arranged marriage ceremony, a sibling may replace an unwilling participant if they so choose.” She sat up and fixed Steele with a dark scowl. “But you won’t. Never mind that I’m terrified. Never mind that he’ll certainly kill me. All you care about are those bottom feeding Ryffsalli wretches. Them and your ridiculous stubborn independence.” She sniffed. “It’s stupid, Steele. Women should not be allowed to become knights in any fashion.”

Steele stared at her sister, and her brow crinkled in mild annoyance. “My mother named me Steele for a reason. Because she knew that someone in this miserable family had to have a little in their spine in order to survive. A woman should know how to take care of herself. Then she wouldn’t have to be terrified of marrying a dark-arts-practicing warlock.” She stood and walked over to her sister, bringing her fingers up to her sister’s face and curling them like claws. “With scales and talons,” she mocked.

Her sister paled, and Steele fought a laugh. She left the room and heaved a sigh, making her way down the stone staircase and through the main hall of the castle.

“Steele!” her father’s voice came after her.

She bristled. She’d been home for all of a day and she already couldn’t wait to get away again. She’d thought it would be nice to take a leave to visit her family. After all, she’d been away for five years. Now she remembered why she’d left in the first place.

She made a slow turn to look at her father as he approached, hobbling on his cane. “In two days’ time, we are traveling to the Venegoth keep for Penelope’s wedding. You will be going with us.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father still tried to act like he had some control over her, even though he hadn’t had the slightest bit of it since she’d turned sixteen. “Well obviously, Father. She is my sister and I am here. Did you think I was just going to stay and feed the horses while you were gone?” She huffed. “Honestly, you people are giving me a migraine.” She spun on her heel and continued to stride toward the door.

“Steele! You come back here! I want you in a gown! Not that horrific Ryffsalli knight uniform! You are a lady, do you hear me? I will not have you disgrace the Arshwyn name by you parading around in those treasonous colors!”

Steele ignored her father and continued out to the lists. If she didn’t burn off some frustration soon she was going to explode. Training for several hours ought to get the job done.

And she was not going to wear a gown.

* * * *

The Venegoth keep was a dark, foreboding-looking place, and it caused Penelope to begin to whimper almost immediately. It stood alone, isolated, and a cold wind seemed to exude from it, chilling the skin and the soul instantly. This, of course, piqued Steele’s interest right away. She had never been the type to shy away from dark things, or from dangerous situations. On the contrary, she seemed to seek them out and thrive on them.

Steele had never seen Lord Venegoth. She didn’t even know his first name. She knew he had frequent dealings with the Ryffsalli, and he was respected tremendously by all of them. She had heard some of her fellow knights say that he was the fiercest warrior to ever take up a sword. She tended to find those tales a little bit more plausible than the ones of him sacrificing young girls and speaking in tongues.

Her family was admitted to the castle by a stoic guard and they were lead into the main hall where Penelope threatened to shake herself right out of her skin. Steele looked around the stone structure, admiring the intricately woven tapestries that covered many of the walls. They were beautiful, dark, rich colors that shimmered from the light of the fire in the hearth and the torches on the walls.

“This place looks like a dungeon!” Penelope whispered in fright.

Steele frowned. Dungeon? Her sister was daft. The interior was spectacular. Although it was dark and slightly ominous in appearance, she felt almost at home in the room. The furnishings were not outlandish as one would expect of a rich and powerful noble. They seemed to indicate that the owner was refined, yet practical. A person with fine taste but with no desire to flaunt his wealth.

Steele’s attention was directed away from her surroundings by the echo of footsteps coming up the corridor. She heard her sister gasp in alarm, and Steele’s breath hitched in her throat as the man entered the room. He was tall with broad shoulders and thick, dark hair the color of molasses. Power resonated from his frame, but his face remained expressionless. His eyes were a piercing amber color and they settled on her for a split second before scanning over Penelope and then turning on her father. Shivers worked along Steele’s spine. The touch of his gaze had a physical effect on her body. It burned like sensual fire. It made her heartbeat falter for one short second.

“Lord Arshwyn,” he greeted, his tone neutral, almost cold. His voice reverberated with a resonance that made Penelope shake harder and caused the shivers to find Steele’s spine once again.

Her father bowed his head courteously. “Lord Venegoth. May I present to you your bride-to-be, my daughter, Penelope.” He indicated her with a sweep of his hand.

Lord Venegoth regarded her for a moment before taking her hand and kissing the back of it in greeting. Penelope whimpered and tried to recoil. Steele rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest in agitation.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Steele,” her father continued.

Lord Venegoth turned his attention back to Steele and the slightest hint of a smile touched his full lips before it was gone again. “I have heard of you, Lady Arshwyn,” he said, taking her hand as he had done with Penelope. “A knight for the Ryffsalli.”

His lips touched the back of her hand just for a moment, but her skin continued to burn long after he released her.

Steele’s father scowled. “How do you know of the goings on of the Ryffsalli?” he snarled.

Lord Venegoth slid a cold, dark look to her father. “I trade with the Ryffsalli. I have heard your daughter’s name spoken of with great admiration in their marketplace on the coast. I can’t say that I am not surprised, you being such a fierce opposer of the Ryffsalli people.”

Her father continued to look irate. “Well, I have never been able to have much control over that one.” He jerked his thumb in Steele’s direction with indignation. “After I took down the royal family of the Ryffsalli, she decided to run off and befriend the enemy.”

“They were never your enemy!” Steele spat before she could stop herself. “They never did anything to you, Father. You hated them because they were different, with different customs and different traits.”

“They are filthy abominations!” he roared. “Creatures crossed somewhere between human and beast! They should be eradicated!”

Steele felt her temper rise, and she turned to face her father. “It is people like you with your prejudice and narrow-mindedness that should be eradicated! What you did to the royal family was sickening! I fight for the Ryffsalli out of sheer guilt over the fact that I share your blood.” The words that left her lips dripped with venom, and she heard her sister inhale sharply. Her father remained silent, but his face turned red with barely contained rage.

Lord Venegoth looked from her father, back to Steele, and his eyes narrowed when he took another glance at Penelope. “You two are like day and night in a number of ways, I imagine.”

Steele looked over at her sister, with her blonde hair curled and flowing down her back, in all her finery. She looked like a doll. And she had the mental capacity of one, as well. Steele, on the other hand, was dressed in her knight’s uniform, black pants with a green doublet and leather bracers on her wrists. Across her back was strapped her sword, her most treasured possession and dearest companion. Black boots adorned her feet and slender, toned legs, coming to a stop at her knees. Her black hair was pulled back into a sensible braid. Yes, she and her sister were like day and night. They even looked it. Although, if her coloring determined that she was the “night” half of that equation, Steele couldn’t complain. The night was so much more soothing with the moonlight’s pale glow and twinkling stars. She found the sunlight of the day harsh and hot, annoying. She had always been a fan of darkness in most of its forms, a creature of the night.

She returned her gaze up to Lord Venegoth’s unnerving and breathtaking eyes, and she smiled. “You are astute in your observations, my lord.”

He let his eyes linger for a moment before saying, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord and Ladies Arshwyn. I am Lord Falcon Venegoth.” He made the statement general, but his eyes remained on Steele. Finally, he turned his attention back to her father. “Supper will be in an hour.” He glanced at Penelope. “We marry on the morrow.”

Steele noticed a distinct hint of malice in his voice as he spoke to her sister, and she watched as he turned on his heel and headed down the corridor. He was a spectacular sight to behold. Power and grace . . . Dark beauty that called to her soul.

“Falcon!” Penelope hissed suddenly in a shrill voice full of terror. She spun and stared at Steele. “Did you hear that? His name is Falcon!”

Steele frowned. “And?”

Her sister scowled. “And? Falcons have talons!”

Steele heaved a sigh and tried to ignore the headache that began to form behind her eyes. She knew it was wrong to side with a stranger over her own flesh and blood, especially when her sister genuinely was terrified, but she really couldn’t help but feel sorry for Lord Venegoth and what he was going to end up with in this entire arrangement. True, Penelope had a sizable dowry, but Steele didn’t think that any amount of riches was worth the price of having to live with the woman every day for the rest of your life. She hoped the man had tremendous patience.

If not, a gag should do the job.