Hunted: A Claiming Novella (The Claiming) by T. A. Grey

Author:T. A. Grey [Grey, T. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Ink Press LLC
Published: 2014-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“The strongest male possessing greatest wit and athleticism shall endeavor to claim fertile females during the Claiming; and thus sow their fruitful seeds in the womb and bear children for the kingdom.” -From Tarlèan Claiming Law, Article XII, Section 2.C.

Ryon waited in attendance for the ceremony to start with King Lyle, the king’s steward, and the king’s royal guard on top of the podium in the center of the arena. The Claiming Ceremony was set to begin in mere minutes.

Anticipation burned in his veins with fiery adrenaline, the kind he felt in the midst of a fight, pumping him up until he couldn’t remain still. He needed to fight, to explode, to move and expend the excess energy stored up in his body. Bullet wound or not, Ryon was fighting for Penelope today. And he planned to win, no matter what.

They chanted his name from the tops of their lungs. Beer and wine was drank all around in bottomless cups. The celebration had not even started yet, but smiles and laughter went around freely.

Finally, the moment came. Lyle stood at the podium and held up his hands to quiet the crowd. The energy in the building was contagious. Uncontrollable.

“Shall we begin?” King Lyle began in a magnificent speech.

“Aye, aye, aye!” came the crowd’s answer.

Lyle smiled at the audience. “Today, we mark the first day of the Claiming Season, and we do so with a female worthy of regard. You might know her as the dancing queen, a graceful and elegant ballet dancer who has enraptured many us for years with her intricate performances. Tonight, twenty-eight year old Penelope Farris will be offered for Claiming. Any males who wish to claim her as husband, as mate, as partner and as equals—step forward now.”

The crowd roared to such a deafening degree, Ryon wasn’t sure they heard the king’s final, parting words. “And may the rightful champion win!”

“Bring out Penelope Farris. All male challengers, step forward now, or forever keep your silence,” Lyle proclaimed.

Ryon stood on the dusty dirt of the arena floor, surprisingly unaccompanied. His gut niggled with apprehension, a tingling sensation that, once stirred, seemed to grow with exponential force. Where was the duke who had so boldly professed to want to fight for Penelope’s hand at the Claiming? After much discussion with Lyle, Ryon had come to the conclusion that it was likely the duke had planned the assignation attempt on his life. Perhaps, after seeing Ryon very much alive, he’d chickened out of the battle. After all, that’s why Patrick had wanted to avoid physical combat. Because Ryon would win.

Seconds ticked by and the trumpeters tooted the Arrival March of the Claiming Progression where Penelope would stroll down the aisle. Ryon finally comprehended that sinking feeling in his gut was earned.

Something was wrong.

Where was Penelope?

The little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, prickling.

He wasn’t the first to notice that something was not right. The crowd grew quiet, more whispers being thrown about than the previous exhausted jubilations.

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