Read Only the Worthy for Free Online Page B

her,
kicked, and rode off, the girls shrieking behind her as she rode further and
further away. She tried to struggle but was helpless to fight back as he held
her in a vise-like grip.
    “How wrong you
are, young girl,” he replied, laughing as he rode. “You are mine.”

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Royce stood
amidst the wheat fields, hacking away with his sickle, his heart filled with
joy as he thought of his bride. He could hardly believe his wedding day had
arrived. He had loved Genevieve for as long as he could remember, and this day
would be a day to rival no others. Tomorrow, he would wake with her by his
side, in a new cottage of their own, with a new life ahead of them. He could
feel the flurries in his stomach. There was nothing he wished for more.
    As he swung the
sickle, Royce thought of his nightly training with his brothers, the four of
them sparring incessantly with wooden swords, and sometimes with real ones,
double-weighted, nearly impossible to lift, to make them stronger, faster.
Although he was younger than his three brothers, Royce realized he was already
a better fighter than them all, more agile with the sword, faster to strike and
to defend. It was as if he were cut from a different cloth. He was different,
he knew that. Yet he did not know how. And that troubled him.
    Where, he
wondered, had his fighting talents come from? Why was he so different? It made
little sense. They were all brothers, all of the same blood, the same family.
Yet at the same time the four of them were inseparable, doing everything
together, whether it was sparring or working the fields. That, in fact, was his
one touch of apprehension to this joyful day: would his moving out be the
beginning of their growing apart? He vowed silently that, no matter, he would
not allow it to be.
    Royce’s thoughts
were suddenly interrupted by a sound at the edge of the field, an unusual sound
for this time of day, a sound he did not want to hear on a perfect day like
this. Horses. Galloping with urgency.
    Royce turned and
looked, instantly alarmed, and his brothers did, too. His alarm only deepened
as he spotted Genevieve’s sisters and cousins riding for him. Even from here
Royce could see their faces etched with panic, with urgency.
    Royce struggled
to comprehend what he was seeing. Where was Genevieve? Why were they all riding
for him?
    And then his
heart sank as he realized that clearly something terrible had happened.
    He dropped his
sickle, as did his brothers and the dozen other peasant farmers of their
village, and ran out to meet them. The first to meet him was Sheila, Genevieve’s
sister, and she dismounted before her horse had come to a stop, clutching
Royce’s shoulders.
    “What is it?”
Royce called out. He grabbed her shoulders, and he could feel her shaking.
    She could barely
get the words out between her tears.
    “Genevieve!” she
cried out, terror in her voice. “They’ve taken her!”
    Royce felt his
stomach plummet at her words, as worst-case scenarios rushed into his mind.
    “Who?” he
demanded, as brothers ran up beside him.
    “Manfor!” she
cried. “Of the House of Nors!”
    Royce felt his
heart slamming in his chest, as waves of indignation coursed through him. His
bride. Snatched away by the nobles, as if she were their property. His face
burned red.
    “When!?” he
demanded, squeezing Sheila’s arm harder than he meant to.
    “Just now!” she
replied. “We got these horses to come tell you as soon as we could!”
    The others
dismounted behind her, and as they did they all handed the reins to Royce and
his brothers. Royce did not hesitate. In one quick motion he mounted her horse,
kicked, and was tearing through the fields.
    Behind him, he
could hear his brothers riding, too, none missing a beat, all heading through
the stalks and for the distant fort.
    His eldest
brother, Raymond, rode up beside him.
    “You know the
law is on his side,” he called out. “He is a noble, and she is unwed—at least
for