Only the Worthy by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

they would take Genevieve.
    The thought
inflamed him with rage.
    Forcing his
emotions in check, Royce kicked his horse and galloped across the courtyard,
past shocked servants who stopped and stared, dropping their work as he raced
by. He spotted a wide, spiral stone staircase across the way and he rode all
the way to it, dismounting before the horse could even stop, hitting the ground
at a run and sprinting up the stairs. He ran around and around the spirals,
again and again, ascending flight after flight. He had no idea where he was
going, but figured he would start at the top.
    Royce finally
exited the staircase at the highest landing, breathing hard.
    “Genevieve!” he
cried out, hoping, praying for a response.
    There was none.
His dread deepened.
    He chose a
corridor and ran down it, praying it was the right one. As he raced past, a man
suddenly burst open a door and stuck his head out. It was a nobles, a short,
fat man with a broad nose and thinning hair.
    He scowled at
Royce, clearly summing him up from his garb as a peasant; he wrinkled his nose
as if something unpleasant had entered his midst.
    “Hey!” he shouted.
“What are you doing in our—”
    Royce did not
hesitate. As the indignant noble lunged for him, he punched him in the face,
knocking him flat on his back.
    Royce checked
quickly inside the open door, hoping for a glimpse of her. But it was empty.
    He continued to
run.
    “GENEVIEVE!”
Royce cried.
    Suddenly, he
heard a cry, far away, in response.
    His heart
stopped as he stood still and listened, wondering where it had come from. Aware
that his time was limited, that an entire army would soon be chasing after him,
he continued running, heart pounding, calling her name again and again.
    Again there came
a muffled cry, and Royce knew it was her. His heart slammed. She was up here.
And he was getting closer.
    Royce finally
reached the end of the corridor and as he did, from behind the last door on the
left, he heard a cry. He did not hesitate as he lowered his shoulder and
smashed open the ancient oak door.
    The door
shattered and Royce stumbled inside and found himself standing in an opulent
chamber, thirty by thirty feet, with soaring ceilings, windows carved into the
stone walls, a massive fireplace and, in the center of the room, a huge,
luxurious four-poster bed, unlike anything Royce had ever seen. He felt a surge
of relief as he saw there, in a pile of furs, his love, Genevieve.
    She was, he was
relieved to see, fully clothed, still flailing, kicking, as Manfor tried to
wrestle her from behind. Royce fumed. There he was, clawing at his bride,
trying to strip her clothes. Royce was elated that he’d made it in time.
    Genevieve
writhed, trying valiantly to get him off her, but Manfor was too strong for
her.
    Without a
moment’s hesitation, Royce burst into action. He rushed forward and pounced, just
as Manfor spun to look. As his eyes widened in shock, Royce grabbed him by the
shirt and threw him.
    Manfor went
flying across the room and landed hard on the cobblestone, groaning.
    “Royce!” Genevieve
called out, her voice filled with relief as she spun and faced him.
    Royce knew he
could not give Manfor a chance to recover. As he tried to rise, Royce jumped on
top of him, pinning him down. Flooded with rage for what he had done to his
wife, Royce pulled back his fist and punched him once, hard in the jaw.
    Manfor bounced
back, though, sitting up and reaching for a dagger. But Royce snatched it from
his hand, and pounded him again and again. Manfor fell back, and Royce knocked
the dagger away, sliding it across the floor.
    He held Manfor
in a lock and Manfor sneered back, ever defiant and superior.
    “The law is on
my side,” Manfor seethed. “I can take anyone I want. She is mine.”
    Royce scowled.
    “You cannot take
my bride.”
    “You’re mad,”
Manfor countered. “ Mad . You will be killed by the end of the day.
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