Chapter 1 The Rider
Life had been simple for Lucy all her life. She kept to herself, spending time with her books but avoiding her stepmother and stepsister. That all changed the day the messenger arrived.
A message from the king startled all of those in Lucy’s father's estate. Baron Cedric Quinn was a simple man with a humble estate. Monetarily, they were comfortable and would never have to worry about financial concerns, but they did not have the luxuries of a duchy.
Lucy had lost her mother at a young age. Her grief-stricken father hastily married the widow of a viscount. Rosalind Thumbrige and her daughter, Portia, soon moved into their family home.
For most of their upbringing, the two girls kept their distance, and Rosalind preferred to act as if Lucy did not exist, entirely ruling the estate as she saw fit as the baroness. The baron would let her, as he never truly recovered from his wife’s death and was a shell of the man he used to be. That was until the king’s message was received.
The whole family gathered in the parlor as the king’s man entered the room, greeting the baron with respect and a bow before handing him a folded piece of parchment bearing the king’s seal.
The rider was dressed in the king’s emblem on his chest. His boots and pants were covered in mud as if he had hastily ridden without rest. His hair was wind-blown, and he still wore his riding gloves when he handed the baron the king’s words.
He bowed to the ladies present before informing the baron he would await his reply in the servants' hall.
The fire crackled as they waited for the baron to read its contents. His brow furrowed as the women just stared at him.
There were countless possibilities for what the letter contained—good and evil. Good would be that he wished to marry his son off to one of the young ladies in the house. It would be bad if the baron had been found guilty of a crime, and their titles and land were being stripped away. The spectrum was broad.
When they saw the king’s rider off in the distance, they all quickly dashed to find the baron, as he was the one who would be receiving the letter. A message from the king was a big deal. Thus, the baron had cause to be concerned.
In his youth, he had been handsome, but now, in his old age, his round face and pot belly took center stage in his appearance. He wore his riding gear as the messenger arrived on his way to the stable. Most of his days, he stayed sequestered in his study or out riding as if he could ride away from his troubles.
“What does it say?” Rosalind said, standing feet away from her husband, wringing her hands. She was dressed in a long, blue gown so deep it could have been black. Her face was heavily covered with makeup, without a hair out of place. Her dark brown locks began to fade as they transitioned to a shade of gray. The powder coating on her hair suggested she was trying to delay that part of life.
Portia looked uninterested as she lounged on the couch in a pink dress. Her black hair, the only feature she received from her father, hung in curls around her face. A face that was a younger version of her mother’s.
Lucy’s curiosity was piqued as she stood in the back of the room. The bottom of her dress was dirty from being outside and bending over to pick flowers. She had dropped the flowers in her haste to make it inside. The light blue dress was for intensive washing to remove the stains.
Rosalind had rebuked her wild ways in the few times she deigned to acknowledge her existence. With the evidence on her dress, she hoped her stepmother would be preoccupied with the letter and not notice.
Nervously, she tucked a loose strand of her golden brown hair that had come loose. Her emerald green eyes looked on curiously as she waited for her father to finish. She lacked her stepmother’s natural poise or her stepsister's uninterested gaze. She was always in motion, unable to settle in one place for too long.
Her stepmother’s composure was beginning to falter as the grand clock ticked with every second that passed. She would not dare to speak out to the baron as her livelihood depended on his good graces unless Portia could make an advantageous match.
“The king has made a treaty with the vampire king.” Her father began, but his face was full of worry. “Many things are to be exchanged between the two kingdoms, but it seems the vampire king will be taking a bride.”
There were many possibilities that Lucy had thought of regarding the contents of the letter. That was not one of them.
“What kind of creature does that retched devil want to take to the pits of hell?” Rosalind spat out in disgust. “What bride is that thing to have? Only a fool would give over a suitable bride.”
Rosalind’s sentiments were the same as everyone's. Very few had ever come into contact with a vampire, and those who did told grim tales of their encounters.
“A noble daughter of the kingdom. The king has gathered his advisors, and they have decided that the bride shall come from this house.” The baron said, setting the piece of paper down.
The room became deathly quiet. Portia sat up in alarm, her bored expression gone. Lucy’s eyes widened in shock as the words sank in.
Rosalind quickly retrieved the piece of paper and began reading it for herself. “This cannot be right. Have we verified the credentials of the messenger? It could be a ploy to mock us. There is no way this is real.”
“It’s real, Rosalind. We received a carrier bird yesterday in advance to let us know he was coming.” He explained to his wife that he was rubbing his temple from the storm that had been his wife.
“Who?” Lucy whispered.
Her father looked at her with sad eyes before motioning toward the two girls. “One of you.”
Rosalind immediately jumped into action. “Well, it can’t be Portia, she had too many marriage prospects as it is. She could marry a duke. It will need to be Lucinda.”
Lucy was too shaken to argue against her stepmother, so it did not even bother her when she used her given name. She hated the name. Her mother had named her Lucinda after her own mother, but to everyone, she had always been Lucy.
If it came to it, her stepmother would throw her under a carriage to help her daughter or just to be rid of her. Either situation was a definite possibility.