Only the Worthy. Morgan Rice

a thing?” she asked, horrified, as she held him tight against her chest.

      He could only shake his head in wonder.

      “We must take him in,” she decided.

      Her husband frowned and shook his head.

      “How?” he snapped. “We cannot afford to feed him. We can barely afford to feed us. We have three boys already – what do we need with a fourth? Our time raising children is done.”

      Mithka, thinking quick, snatched the thick gold pendant and placed it in his palm, knowing, after all these years, what would impress her husband. He felt the weight of the gold in his hand, and he clearly looked impressed.

      “There,” she snapped back, disgusted. “There’s your gold. Enough gold to feed our family until we’re all old and dead,” she said sternly. “I am saving this baby – whether you like it or not. I will not leave him to die.”

      He still frowned, though less certain, as another lightning bolt struck above and he studied the skies with fear.

      “And do you think it’s a coincidence?” he asked. “A night like this, such a baby comes into this world? Have you any idea who you are holding?”

      He looked down at the child with fear. And then he stood and backed away, finally turning his back and leaving, gripping the pendant, clearly displeased.

      But Mithka would not give in. She smiled at the baby and rocked him to her chest, warming his cold face. Slowly, his crying calmed.

      “A child unlike any of us,” she replied to no one, holding him tight. “A child who shall change the world. And one I shall name: Royce.”

      PART TWO

      CHAPTER FOUR

      17 Sun Cycles later

      Royce stood atop the hill, beneath the only oak tree in these fields of grain, an ancient thing whose limbs seemed to reach to the sky, and he looked deeply into Genevieve’s eyes, deeply in love. They held hands as she smiled back at him, and as they leaned in and kissed, he felt in awe and gratitude that his heart could feel this full. As dawn broke over the fields of grain, Royce wished that he could freeze this moment forever.

      Royce leaned back and looked at her. Genevieve was gorgeous. In her seventeenth year, as he was, she was tall, slim, with flowing blond hair and intelligent green eyes, a smattering of freckles across her dainty features. She had a smile that made him happy to be alive, and a laugh that put him at ease. More than that, she had a grace, a nobility, that far outmatched their peasant status.

      Royce saw his own reflection in her eyes and he marveled that he looked as if he could be related to her. He was much bigger, of course, tall even for his age, with shoulders broader than even his older brothers’, a strong chin, a noble nose, a proud forehead, an abundance of muscle which rippled beneath his frayed tunic, and light features, like hers. His longish blond hair fell just before his eyes, while his hazel-green eyes matched hers, albeit a shade darker. He’d been blessed with strength, and with a skill with the sword that matched his brothers’, though he was the youngest of the four. His father had always joked that he had fallen from the sky, and Royce understood: he shared not his brothers’ dark features or average frame. He was like a stranger in his own family.

      They embraced, and it felt so good to be hugged so tightly, to have someone who loved him as much as he did her. The two of them had, in fact, been inseparable since they were children, had grown up together playing in these fields, had vowed even back then that on the summer solstice of their seventeenth year, they would wed. As children, it had been a deadly serious vow.

      As they’d aged, year after year, they had not grown apart as most children do, but only closer together. Against all odds, their vow turned from a childish thing to something stronger, solemn, unbreakable, year after year after year. Their lives, it seemed, were never destined to grow apart.

      Now, finally, unbelievably, the day had arrived. Both were seventeen, the summer solstice had arrived, they were adults now, free to choose for themselves, and as they stood there, beneath that tree, watching the sun rise, they each knew, with giddy excitement, what that meant.

      “Is your mother excited?” she asked.

      Royce smiled.

      “I think she loves you more than I, if that is possible,” he laughed.

      Genevieve’s laugh reached his soul.

      “And your parents?” he asked.

      Her face darkened, just for a flash, and his heart fell.

      “Is it me?” he asked.

      She shook her head.

      “They love you,” she replied. “They just…” she sighed. “We are not wed yet. For them it could not come soon enough. They fear for me.”

      Royce understood. Her parents feared the nobles. Unwed peasants like Royce and Genevieve had no rights; if the nobles chose, they could come and take their women away, claim them for themselves. Until, that is, they were married. Then they would be safe.

      “Soon enough,” Genevieve said, her smile brightening.

      “Are they relieved because it’s me, or because, once wed, you’ll be safe from the nobles?”

      She laughed and mock hit him.

      “They love you as the son they never had!” she said.

      He caught her arms and kissed her.

      “Royce!” cried a voice.

      Royce turned to find his three brothers striding up the hill, in a large group, Genevieve’s sisters and cousins climbing up with them. They all held sickles and pitchforks, all of them ready for the day’s labor, and Royce took a deep breath, knowing the time for parting had come. They were peasants, after all, and they could not afford to take an entire day off. The wedding would have to wait for sunset.

      It did not bother Royce to work on this day, but he felt bad for Genevieve. He wished he could give her more.

      “I wish you could take the day off,” Royce said.

      She smiled and then laughed.

      “Working makes me happy. It takes my mind off things. Especially,” she said, leaning in and kissing his nose, “of having to wait so long to see you again today.”

      They kissed, and she turned with a giggle and linked arms with her sisters and cousins and was soon bounding off to the fields with them, all of them giddy with happiness on this spectacular summer day.

      Royce’s brothers came up behind him, clasping his shoulders, and the four of them headed their own way, down the other side of the hill.

      “Come on, loverboy!” Raymond said. The eldest son, he was like a father to Royce. “You can wait until tonight!”

      His two other brothers laughed.

      “She’s really got him good,” Lofen added, the middle of the bunch, shorter than the others but more stocky.

      “There’s no hope for you,” Garet chimed in. The youngest of the three, just a few years older than Royce, he was closest to Royce, yet also felt their sibling rivalry the most. “Not even married yet, and already he’s lost.”

      The three laughed, teasing him, and Royce smiled with them as they all headed off, as one, for the fields. He took one last glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Genevieve disappearing down the hill. His heart lifted as she, too, looked back one last time and smiled at him from afar. The smile restored his soul.

      Tonight, my love, he thought. Tonight.

*

      Genevieve worked the fields, raising and swinging her sickle, surrounded by her sisters and cousins, a dozen of them, all laughing out loud on this auspicious day, as she worked halfheartedly. Genevieve stopped every few hacks to lean on the long shaft, look out at the blue skies and glorious yellow fields of wheat, and think of Royce. As she did, her heart beat faster. Today was the day she had always dreamt