Claimed By The Tyrant King

This day had to be the worst day in all of Rosalind’s life.

She sat in the carriage, looking out the window as it rolled smoothly on the cobblestones, heading towards the castle. Her father sat opposite her. They had been dressed regally for their positions, and he continued to address her.

"Remember to be on your best behaviour today. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to," the elderly man said before correcting himself, knowing the kind of sharp-tongued daughter he had. "Do not speak unless it is VERY important. Just lower your gaze, smile, and do nothing else." He said it for what had to be the hundredth time that day.

"Yes, father," Rosalind muttered unenthusiastically, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as they neared the castle grounds.

The building stood tall and proud, the stone walls shining and the flag soaring in the sky. There was a long line of expensive carriages rolling into the castle grounds.

It was yet another banquet at Eryndor, and this one was meant only for the important people in society, not the middle or lower class.

Rosalind’s hazel eyes continued to watch the passing trees, the fountain that shot water into the sky, and the statues in every corner of the very large grounds. The place was cleaned perfectly. The night lamps shone in their positions. It was going to be a grand night. The kind of night where her father would disgrace her.

They soon came to a stop in front of the stairs that led up to the gates, with guards positioned there. The coachman left his post to open the door for them, removing his cap and bowing his head as her father, Viscount Calder, stepped out. Rosalind followed after him, stepping onto the ground and taking a deep breath as she looked up at the imposing castle. Even from outside, she could hear the sound of music and chatter inside.

Her father shifted his gaze to her, and Rosalind’s hazel eyes met his. "Remember what I told you," he said, then leaned in closer. "If anything goes wrong, I will proudly disown you." He straightened and gave her a smile.

She stared blankly at him in return. "You already did," Rosalind said quietly. "The moment you decided I was worth a price."

He offered his hand, and she had no choice but to place hers around it as he led her up the stairs, people continuing to arrive behind them. When they reached the doors, the guards quickly checked their invitation, and once cleared, they were announced.

"Viscount Calder and his daughter, Rosalind Calder, have arrived."

They walked into the Grand Hall as the doors opened for them. Inside gleamed with chandeliers above, luxurious dresses, chatter, and laughter that belonged to the high class, along with the clinking of glasses as men and women alike filled the hall.

"Come with me," her father said happily, not even letting Rosalind catch her breath. He pulled her along as they made their way toward a group of men.

Her father seemed familiar with them, because they turned and broke into smiles. "Viscount Calder. A pleasant surprise," Lord Ardent said with a broad smile as they exchanged a brief handshake, his gaze then shifting to Rosalind.

"Your daughter," he muttered, and Calder nodded, turning to Rosalind, who gave a curt nod in return.

"She’s a beauty. Are you really sure she’s from here?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over her.

Calder laughed under his breath. "Where else would she be from?"

"She’s a rare one, to be honest," one of the noblemen said, thirsting over her sun kissed tone. "Has she been promised yet?"

Rosalind could feel what was coming.

"Not yet," Calder said.

"She’d surely make a good mistress. Those assets could make a man forget his senses " one of them said, and suddenly all their gazes shifted to Rosalind’s bosom.

She became hyper aware of herself and she clenched her fists. What the hell?

She had noticed the way they looked at her before, but she hadn’t expected them to be this blatant. She had worn a dress that revealed her cleavage, and her father had made sure her maid oiled her skin so much that it caught the light. Now it shone under their stares.

They laughed.

"If you don’t mind, Viscount, I’d like to make your daughter my mistress. I’ll take proper care of her," said the same man, and Rosalind recognized him as Duke Pembroke.

That was exactly the bait her father had been waiting for. "I wouldn’t—"

Before he could finish, Rosalind fixed her gaze on Duke Pembroke.

"If I remember correctly, you already have nine mistresses. And for someone who can barely cater to them, you don’t need another, instead you should be working hard to take care of the ones you already have," Rosalind said, offering a very much needed advice to him.

And the man’s smile faltered ever so slightly at the mention of his financial incompetence. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut," he glared at her, his voice sharpening. "How have you raised your daughter, Calder?" he demanded, turning to Rosalind’s father.

How have you been raised? Rosalind thought inwardly.

"Sharp-tongued," another man muttered, swirling his drink lazily. "That one won’t last long in a marriage."

They didn’t even bother hiding their disapproval as they simply dismissed her and turned away.

Her father grabbed her arm in dissapointment and pulled her aside. "Don’t make this a bad market for me," he warned under his breath, his grip tightening. Of course, Rosalind knew he was parading her to these men so he could sell her off and pay his debts, and she hated how she was being humiliated. "I told you to keep quiet."

"They were speaking about me like I’m not even human," Rosalind snapped.

"I don’t care," he cut in coldly. "Lower your head and act right."

"Of course you don’t care," she said, her voice dropping. "You’re not the one being inspected like livestock."

"Enough." His voice rose just enough to draw attention. He immediately forced a smile at the onlookers before lowering his tone again. "You better behave, or you will regret it."

"I already do," she muttered.

This time, one of the noblemen approached them. Viscount Calder immediately let go of his daughter arm, wrapping his hand around her lovingly as the man approached. The man didn’t speak immediately. He looked her over slowly, like he was assessing something to be purchased. "Viscount Calder" He barely acknowledged her father with his sharp gaze on her.

"This is Rosalind, my daughter" Viscount Calder introduced once he saw that she had caught his attention.

He gave a nod. "Turn around," he said casually.

Rosalind’s brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I said turn," he repeated, impatience slipping into his tone. "Let’s see what I’m working with."

Rosalind’s gaze shifted to her father who gave her an encouraging look but she turned to the man instead. Her stomach turned. "I’m not livestock," she said flatly.

The man narrowed his eyes at her and viscount Calder facepalmed himself inwardly. "She is never going to work out" He said to Viscount Calder and took his leave immediately.

Rosalind noticed how her father was suppressing himself from biting her like a rabid dog now.

The next group of men they met didn’t even pretend to be polite.

"Does the rest match what I see up top?" one of them asked outright, staring at her body without shame.

Rosalind’s eyes widened, heat rushing to her face not from embarrassment, but from pure anger. What kind of men were these? There was no restraint or shame. Just pure filth spoken openly.

To think they had wives somewhere, wives who had no idea what kind of disgusting men they were tied to.

And her father was silent, smiling and laughing along with them. Because to him, she was nothing more than a transaction.

"Maybe you should focus more on your responsibilities than on my body, Lord Winter," Rosalind said coldly.

The man blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "You..." he pointed his finger at her, and then sent a glare to Calder.

Viscount Calder could already tell this was another failure, and at this rate, he wouldn’t get his money. She had not been on her best behaviour, and no man wanted a woman who talked back. She was supposed to lower her head and smile, how hard was that?

"What is it, father?" Rosalind asked, already tired of being dragged around to meet his associates.

"If you weren’t my daughter, I would have slapped you right here," he said sharply.

"How hard is it for you to obey me?" He added, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Father... I—" Rosalind began, but he raised his hand, cutting her off.

"I’ll give you a few minutes to clear your head, and when you return, you had better reset your brain. I swear, if this night doesn’t go as planned, I will disown you," he barked in a low voice before huffing and turning on his heel.

Rosalind huffed as well and turned in the opposite direction, walking away. She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care. She just wanted to get out of the hall. It was sickening, everything she had heard.

They were in a time where men said anything to women, and women were expected to take it without talking back.

Submissive, they said but Rosalind was none of that. She would call out terrible behaviour whenever she saw it.

Fortunately, she reached a balcony where she could clear her head. The place wasn’t guarded like she expected, or so she thought until she noticed guards stationed at a distance. She let out a breath, not of relief, but because she felt like she was starting to lose her mind.

She leaned against the railing as the breeze moved through her thick, dark chestnut hair, her heavy skirt swaying lightly. From behind, it would have looked like a serene painting, if not for the tight expression on her face as she tried to compose herself.

But the moment didn’t last because she soon heard footsteps approaching. From the sound alone, Rosalind could tell it was a man. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. Could she not be left alone for once?

The person stopped just behind her. "You don’t seem to be enjoying the banquet," He said. His voice was smooth, seductive and teasing but Rosalind didn’t register it at all.

"If you’re here to say something useless, save it," she replied flatly without turning to look. "I’ve already heard enough for one night."

There was silence.

Then...

A low chuckle as the corner of his lips lifted in amusement.