“Happy Birthday, son,” Ide sang, and Rory opened his eyes with a smile.

“Good morning, mother.”

“15 at last,” Ide smiled.” How does it feel?”

Rory stretched his arms over his head as he thought. Small, even for a 15 year-old, Rory had silky black hair he kept to his shoulders, brilliant, sky blue eyes, and lush red lips. He was a very pretty boy and was becoming even more so as he neared adulthood. “I feel good, I think.”

“Well, it’s a busy day,” Ide said cheerfully, nodding toward the window across from Rory’s small bed. The curtains snapped open and sunlight shone into the room. “Why don’t you come down for your breakfast and your present, then we’ll head to the square for the celebrations.”

Rory’s smile fell away as he remembered it was the Hopeful Princesses’ Day. Today, all six girls born on the summer solstice would be honored, as nobody knew which one of them had the mark of Cian. The King kept her identity under wraps out of fear of the encroaching enemies, but that didn’t stop the villagers from their revelry.

Rory rolled out from under his thin sheets and touched down on the cold, wooden floor. His room was a tiny loft above the house, and it was drafty up here, but he was used to it. The light from the window made it bright and homey, and he made the best of it by keeping fresh herbs with lovely scents in the rafters.

“Don’t bother to get dressed just yet,” Ide smiled at Rory, then turned for the ladder. “Just come down and see your gift.”

Rory looked down at himself, at his overlarge white nightgown, then raised an eyebrow in question. “I hope you’re not suggesting I wear this today.”

“Of course not,” Ide chuckled as she disappeared from view. “Come see what I made you.”

Rory’s heart filled with affection. His mother was a beautiful seamstress, but she was always incredibly busy with her work and didn’t often find the time to make clothing for her family. It seemed she’d set aside some time solely for him, and he appreciated it already.

Rory took the ladder downstairs. The room below was one, large open space. The kitchen and dining table were against the wall to the left, a small seating area was to the right around the fireplace, and his parents’ bed was in the back corner surrounded by a curtain for privacy.

“Morning,” Kinny said from the table, lifting his coffee mug in greeting. He smiled warmly, making the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced.

“Good morning, Father,” Rory said, then swept to the table and sat across from the man in his usual spot. Ide approached with a small package wrapped in rough brown paper and Rory looked at it eagerly. “Can I open it?”

“Of course. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

With excited fingers, Rory tore into the package. The brown paper fell away to reveal a cloth in beautiful, vibrant blue. “Oh, mother! It’s gorgeous!”

“It’s a new tunic,” Ide said happily. “Try it on!”

As Rory slipped into the well-fitted tunic, his mood plummeted. Every year was the exact same. His parents celebrated his birthday during breakfast, a warm and happy event, but then they went to the square with the rest of the villagers and Rory was mocked endlessly by the other boys for being the seventh born. There was always so much going on, his parents were oblivious, but Rory’s age mates never missed the opportunity to tease him.

This year, like all the others before it, Rory stood before his parents in his new tunic and asked, “Is there any way I could skip the celebration?”

Kinny took a sip of his coffee. “Why would you want to do that? The food is always so good.”

“And the music,” Ide smiled. “You wouldn’t want to miss the bands playing, would you?”

“No, but…” Not for the first time, Rory hesitated. He wanted to tell his parents about the constant bullying, but he just didn’t have the heart to. “I guess I just wanted to sleep in a bit more.”

“There’ll be no sleeping in today,” Kinny laughed. “The noise from the square could wake the dead!”

“He’s right, sweetheart,” Ide said, then she gestured to the kitchen counter and summoned three plates of eggs and bacon. “You’ll have a much better time with the rest of us. It’s your birthday. Come and celebrate.”

As one of the plates landed gently in front of Rory, he looked down at it glumly. Last year, the other boys had chased him away from the festivities and threw him in the lake. He’d had to sneak home and change before his parents could see. It had been humiliating, walking through town, soaking wet. If he’d been able to trust his powers, maybe he could have dried himself, but he knew better than to play with magic.

Ide and Kinny talked cheerfully about the celebrations as they ate their breakfasts. Rory watched them with a numb sort of affection. Both his parents worked hard. Ide worked her fingers to the bone everyday so other women could look fabulous, and Kinny was either in the fields, tending gardens, or he was on shift as a guard. In fact, Kinny had just got back from a two month rotation last Wednesday. Both parents deserved the break from work.

Rory needed the break as well, but he already knew he wasn’t going to get it. He wished he could make his parents understand that he just didn’t fit in, but they were both so busy all the time, they were blind to the obvious signs.

Resigned, Rory ate his food in silence.

Thirty minutes later, Rory and his parents arrived at the square. The festivities were already in full swing.

All six of the Princess Hopefuls were on the stage, being crowned with rings of flowers. Each of them were dressed in magnificent colors, a lot like Rory, and he immediately felt out of place in his new tunic. He felt like he was overdressed and he heard more than one whispered comment as he and his parents found a place in the crowd to watch.

“And last, but not least, a crown of roses for little Rosie,” said the presenter, his voice magically amplified as he placed the flowers on the last girl’s head, a small redhead on the far right. She smiled beautifully and then curtsied for the applauding crowd.

Rory frowned. He wasn’t one for hatred, but he strongly disliked little Rosie. She was always kind and polite in front of the adults, but in private, she was wicked spirited and mean. A chill ran through his body as he watched the girl beam for her watching audience.

“Welcome everyone!” The presenter, a stocky man with a full, bristly beard turned to the crowd and began to talk again as the noise died down. “We are here today to honor our Princess Hopefuls. I’d like to remind you that Cian plays no favorites, and each one has an equal chance at the crown.”

“I sure hope Rosie’s the princess,” Ide whispered to Kinney. “She’s such a sweet, little girl.”

“And so well mannered.” Kinney nodded in agreement. “I’ll bet her parents have been training her.”

“Of course they have. It would be such an honor to rule the kingdom with Prince Kieran.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Prince Kieran will be crowned next year, then the marriage will come soon after.”

“That’s right,” Ide said. “Next year will be very exciting. We’ll finally have our princess.”

Rory studied little Rosie as the presenter went on with his speech. She was nothing but smiles, and it creeped him out, for he knew her true nature. Unfortunately, now that the war with the barbarians, the outsiders from Helmsfirth, was worsening, it seemed the kingdom needed someone as cutthroat as Rosie to rule. He figured she was probably the real princess.

“I know we are all weary from the war with our neighbors, but today is a day of celebration,” the presenter said. “Cian has blessed us all and soon, we will have victory over our enemies. Our kingdom is strong. Our army is prepared. There is nothing to fear.”

A cheer rose from the audience and there was a tangible surge of energy from the gathering. Everyone was excited. Rory could feel it.

“Now, I’d like to welcome our musicians,” the presenter said, then he nodded to the left of the stage and a group of men and women climbed up, their instruments floating gracefully behind them. “Let the festivities begin!”

There was another cheer as the musicians arranged themselves in front of the Princess Hopefuls. Flutes, drums, and lutes landed in their hands, and they began to play.

“Would you like to dance?” Kinny asked Ide, smiling as the music swelled over the gathered crowd.

“I’d love to,” Ide giggled, then she took his hand.

Around Rory, the adults began to dance. The children slipped among them, full of amusement and laughter, but Rory was hesitant to join in. He was feeling even more out of place then before and he drifted away to the benches set at the edge of the square. He sat gingerly and watched the crowd from a distance.

Maybe an hour passed. Rory leaned back on his elbows and relaxed. The dancers were fun to watch, and the music was lively and upbeat. A steady stream of vendors were setting up their booths on the other side of the square. Soon, the smell of meat and ale would fill the air, and the celebration would really begin.

Eventually, the girls stopped dancing. They curtsied then exited the stage. The crowd applauded as the girls joined the group. It was the end of the dancing, but the music continued. It changed and softened and allowed everyone to socialize. Lots of people had well wishes for the princess hopefuls, so there was a concentrated line toward the girls.

Rory was watching the girls from afar when a rough hand closed over his mouth.

“Mmmphf!!!” Rory struggled against the form behind him, but he was pulled backwards off the bench and into the dirt.

“Keep him quiet!” hissed a familiar voice. Holden. The meanest of the village boys by far. Rory was spun around, away from the gathering, and his panicked eyes met Holden’s. He wasn’t alone, either. Two other boys, Blair and Scot, were on either side of him, smiling.

“I’m trying!” said the boy holding Rory. And it was Fife, another of Holden’s friends. He pressed down hard on Rory’s nose and mouth, and Rory reared against him in total fear. “He won’t hold still!”

“Well, come on, then,” Holden said. “Let’s get him out of here.”

Fife lifted Rory off the ground and followed the three other boys away from the festivities. He huffed and puffed, but he carried Rory through the empty village without pause.

Rory grabbed desperately at Fife’s hands as he was carried, his feet dangling just inches above the ground. He was too small to fight the boy physically and too scared to try magic, so he held on in fear, not knowing what else to do. Every time Rory used his magic, something terrible happened, and he was more afraid of his power than of what the boys were going to do to him. He waited anxiously as they got closer to the arena.

“She said she’d meet us here,” Holden said as he stopped just outside the arena doors. The large building was used to train the village children in magic, and all the boys were familiar with it. Holden huffed, then ducked inside, and Blair, Scot, and Fife followed him in.

The arena was a large open space surrounded with stadium-style seating. It was totally empty, of course. The ground was packed dirt and as Fife dragged Rory into the center of the court and finally released him, Rory fell back and whacked his head on it.

“Oops, sorry…” Fife muttered, but Holden spun around and glared at the large boy.

“You don’t have to apologize to him,” Holden growled. “That thing is a freak of nature. He deserves what’s coming.”

Rory grit his teeth in anger. He picked himself off the hard dirt floor and came to a stand across from the other guys. “What are you doing to me this year?” he grumbled, and Rory’s adversaries focused on him with a range of varying emotions. “Is there an actual plan or is this all done spur of the moment?”

Holden narrowed his eyes. “We’ve all been planning this for weeks actually. That’s why I’m surprised she isn’t—”

“Are you talking about me?” asked a lilting feminine voice at Rory’s back and he spun around, almost gasping when he met eyes with little redheaded Rosie. “I’m here now. There’s no need to fuss.”

“Have trouble shaking your adoring fans?” Holden sneered as Rosie slipped through the arena doors, a sack under her arm. “I thought for a second we were gonna have to start without you.”

“Yes, actually, I just barely managed to slip away.” Rosie bustled around Rory and joined the boys forming a line in front of the helpless birthday boy. Rosie came to a stop at Holden’s side and handed him the sack. “I had to charm my little sister’s hair red to fool everyone.”

Holden rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he looked into the bag.

“That is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Rosie asked.

Holden nodded, then let the sack drop to his feet. “Let’s get this done before you’re missed… Fife!”

Fife jumped to attention and scrambled to Holden’s side.

“Well, get a hold of him.” Holden gestured in Rory’s direction. “I doubt he’ll cooperate for this next part either.”

Fife leveled his gaze on Rory and Rory jumped into action. He did a 180 and took off sprinting for the exit. As the doors drew nearer, Rory decided he’d risk using a little burst of power to push the door open. He pumped his arms harder, pushed his legs to carry him faster. Just when he was gearing up to cast the spell, Fife tackled him from behind and the two of them fell heavily onto the hard dirt.

For a minute, Rory laid still. His little body was wracked with pain and all the air had been forced out of his lungs.

Then Fife picked himself up and like it was nothing, he lifted Rory off the ground by a single arm. Fife wasn’t being gentle and his hand twisted Rory’s delicate skin. Rory groaned in pain. When Fife set him on his feet and squeezed his bicep, Rory took the hint and reluctantly followed him back to the waiting group of their peers.

Fife stopped just a couple feet from Holden and Rory was dragged along. Rory couldn’t stop wishing he’d stayed home where it was safe. He’d known something awful was going to happen today!

Holden gazed at Rory with amusement glittering in his eyes. “You asked what we were going to do to you, right?”

“I don’t want to know,” Rory whimpered. “Please. Please just let me go home!”

Holden snorted, totally unmoved. “Alright guys. You know what’s next.”

Rosie covered her dainty mouth with her hands and giggled as Blair and Scot closed in on Rory.

“Wait… what are you doing?!”

With a smile that looked more like a grimace, Blair tore open the front of Rory’s beautiful new tunic.

“No!” Rory yelled. “Stop it!” But his words had little effect. Nobody was listening to him.

“Last month, when you missed combat training for a couple days, we all got to talking,” Holden drawled as Scot and Blair continued ripping Rory’s top to shreds. “We were debating whether or not you’re actually a boy, when it became obvious. All we had to do to be sure was strip you.”

Rory flushed bright red. Blair and Scot had his chest bare now and Fife continued to hold his bicep, his hand like a vice. There was no escape. They were going to take his clothes off!

“So that’s what we’re gonna do,” Holden continued. “We’re going to strip you naked and see if you really are a boy or if you’re just fooling everyone. And we have multiple witnesses, too, so nobody can say we’re making stuff up.”

Rory nervously chewed his tongue. Blair and Scot seemed to be waiting for a signal before they removed his britches, and the anticipation was deadly.

“Let’s see if you really are the 7^th princess,” Holden said, and with that Scot and Blair reached for his pants.

Rory kicked his legs and let out a cry for help, but it was useless. Scot easily got ahold of Rory’s left leg and Blair started yanking on Rory’s right.

As Rory’s pants came down, Holden joined in with Rosie and began to laugh. The sound of it rang in Rory’s ears. He shut his eyes in embarrassment but could do nothing about the sound of laughter.

“Oops, guess we were wrong, guys. He really is a boy,” Holden jeered.

Rory whimpered as humiliated tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He could feel his penis shrinking, too, and that just made everything worse.

“I don’t know, it’s so tiny are you sure it’s real?” Rosie laughed.

“You’re the girl, you should be the one to check,” Holden sneered.

Rosie gave him the finger. “Make one of your goons do it.”

“Yeah, I’m not touching that thing,” Blair said firmly.

“Little dick isn’t contagious, ya know,” Scot laughed.

“You touch it then.”

“No way, man.”

Rory sobbed. He’d never been so embarrassed in his life. Everyone was staring at his penis and laughing about it.

“Alright, moving on,” Holden said loudly, and the humor finally died down. He reached for the forgotten sack and opened it. A pink dress with ruffles and lace was inside.

“Noooo,” Rory moaned.

“Oh yes,” Holden said, grinning. “It isn’t fair we had to mess up your pretty tunic. We brought you something much nicer though. Something much more fitting.”

The dress was a hideous monstrosity. If Rory left the arena wearing it, everyone would see. He’d be a laughingstock in front of the entire village!

Holden approached with the dress. “Hold him tight. I’ve got to get this over his head.”

Fife firmed his grip on Rory’s arm while Scot grabbed the other. Blair stepped aside to make room for the dress and Holden approached with it raised above his head like a crown.

Rory was openly crying now. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real…. He squeezed his eyes shut again, but the feeling didn’t go away, it only increased as Holden forced the dress over his head.

First, Rory noticed the fabric was itchy. There was a thick lace around the collar that scratched his delicate chin. But then he smelled the perfume. It suddenly got much worse. The smell was totally overwhelming, and Rory fought the urge to gag.

“C’mon, help me thread his arm through the sleeve…” Holden said as Rory’s helplessness began to grow. “No! That’s the wrong arm, you idiot!”

Struggling in Fife’s and Scot’s firm grasps, Rory felt his reservations fall away at last. He didn’t care if his magic was too wild or weird, he needed to use it! His skin began to prickle. A strange energy rushed through him. He knew he had to protect himself because nobody else was going to, so he pushed his magic outwards in a short, punctuated burst.

Holden blasted across the arena. He slammed into the stone wall, slid to the ground, then fell limp.

The laughter stopped cold.

“Holy shit,” Scot hissed.

“What the hell was that?” Blair asked, and he looked spooked.

Fife tightened his grip on Rory’s arm. “I think the little devil is finally using his magic…”

Rory ignored the boys’ conversation. He took a deep, calming breath and concentrated on the feel of the rough fingers holding his arms instead. They were hurting him badly and Rory let his magic take over.

Scot shouted and ripped his hand away like he’d be burned while Fife yanked his back to his chest, cradling his red, blistered palm.

“Oh fuck.” Blair started to back towards the arena doors and Scot and Fife were following him.

Rory felt another jolt of power surge through his half-naked body. He didn’t know what to do with it though, all he knew was that he wanted the boys to be stopped. And just as he thought it, Blair, Scot, and Fife froze in their tracks. Each of their lips turned a faint blue. Their skin turned ice pale. Then, one by one, they fell backwards into the dirt, unconscious.

Rory, his head swimming from the magic building inside him, turned to Rosie next.

“Don’t hurt me!” the girl wailed, trying to hide behind her hands. “This wasn’t my idea; Holden just needed my dress!”

Rory wasn’t convinced, however. He’d been taunted by the girl and her friends since early childhood. Rory had been an outcast from the moment he’d been born and Rosie and the others did everything they could think of so he’d never forget.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Rosie cried. “I’m a Princess Hopeful. You aren’t allowed to touch me. You’ll get into trouble!”

Rory narrowed his eyes. He was so sick of the Princess Hopefuls. They were praised and celebrated, but he, because he was a boy, was mocked and belittled. He was tired of the unfairness of it all!

Mid threat, Rosie’s luscious red locks caught fire. Rory smiled as the girl, shrieking, ran in circles before finally throwing herself to the ground and rolling in the dirt.

All Rory had ever wanted was to fit in. But the other village children wouldn’t let it happen. For the first time ever, Rory had dared to defend himself and he’d been victorious!

Rory shrugged the dress over his head. He was so glad to finally have it off of him, he let out a sob of relief. Tears in his eyes, he turned to look for his pants when a fist slammed into the side of his head. It caused him to fall violently, scratching both his hands and knees on the hard ground. He screamed in pain and looked up wildly.

“‘Night, ‘night, spawn of Oeus.”

Rory caught a glimpse of Holden looming over him, blood dripping from his hairline, then the boy raised his booted foot and kicked him in the head.

Everything went black.

***

Hours later, Rory blinked his pretty blue eyes open. His body was drained from all the magic he’d expended and his head hurt enormously.

He started to sit up but a hand touched his chest and urged him back into place.

“You shouldn’t sit up so quickly, you’ve got a concussion.”

Rory looked up. His mother sat beside the bed, her face grave. “Oh no…” he muttered. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Ide pursed her lips. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it, I guess,” Rory said slowly. “Holden and his friends tried to force me into a dress so everyone would laugh at me and I… used my magic on them.”

“Holden is nursing a skull fracture and the other boys have severe burns and patches of frostbite all over their bodies,” Ide said sternly. “And little Rosie, the poor thing. She’s desperately trying to regrow her hair.”

Rory smirked a bit at the announcement, but Ide caught him and smacked him sharply across the face.

“Are you enjoying this?” Ide raised her voice. “Your classmates tried to play a harmless prank and you retaliated with untrained magic?! You could have killed someone!”

“Mother, I—”

“How many times have we warned you against experimenting with your powers?” Ide asked. “You’re too strong, Rory, you can’t play around like that!”

“Mom—”

“This is worse than last time,” Ide continued to rant. “Remember that poor boy whose arm you broke? That’s why we’ve been keeping you home from school on combat days. You aren’t yet in full control of your magic. It’s too wild and dangerous.”

“Mother, please—”

“From what I heard, if Holden hadn’t stopped you today, you would have murdered your classmates,” Ide shook her head. “I didn’t raise a killer, Rory!”

“Mom!”

Frowning, Ide folded her arms. “What is it?”

“I had no choice today,” Rory hissed. “They weren’t playing a harmless prank, mom, they were humiliating me! I was just defending myself!”

“Well, you did it the wrong way, kiddo.” Ide poked Rory’s chest. “Everyone in the village is upset with you. With us, too.”

“Yeah and what about me?” Rory whined. “I think Holden kicked me in the head! Does anyone care about that?”

Ide’s gaze softened. “I care. Of course, I do. That’s why I’m lecturing you right now.”

Rory scrunched up his nose. “Huh?”

“Listen, we’re all going to be punished starting tomorrow,” Ide said firmly. “Your father has been called back to the battlefield an entire month before his rotation.”

“H-he has?”

“Yes. It happened maybe two hours after you were brought home. Most unusual, isn’t it?”

Rory nervously worried his lip.

“And I’ve been reassigned to the crops this week,” Ide said. “I haven’t been needed at the farms in months. It makes no sense.”

“What about me?”

“Your training has been suspended until further notice,” Ide said unhappily. “All this was delivered at the same time by the councilman, who if you remember, is Rosie’s father….”

Rory gulped.

“We’ve all got to be strong and work through this. That’s the only thing we can do now,” Ide said mournfully. “The village has made up their minds. We have to work for their favor.”

“What do I have to do?” Rory asked.

“Nothing,” Ide said. “But you must stay inside at all times and keep away from the public.”

Rory pouted. “This is so unfair.”

“I know. But hopefully you’ll learn your lesson and you won’t go using your powers on your friends anytime soon.”

“They aren’t my friends,” Rory scoffed. “And maybe, just maybe they should learn their lesson and leave me alone next time.”

Ide sighed and got stiffly out of her chair. “I’ve got something for you.” She walked across the room to the small desk Rory kept by the ladder. On it rested a small vial.

“I hope it’s a pain potion.”

“I whipped it up fresh, just for you,” Ide said with a faint smile.

Rory nodded in appreciation, but there was still something bothering him. “Mom?” he started nervously. “I’ve been wondering… for awhile now actually…”

“What’s that?” Ide asked as she took her seat beside Rory’s bed once more. She held out the pain potion and Rory took it from her and clutched it between both his hands.

“I was wondering why you didn’t use magic when you were pregnant with me,” Rory asked in a rush. He had to know the answer to this. He’d wondered this very thing for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why he was asking now, only that his head was still aching from Holden’s boot and he felt brave all of a sudden. “If you knew I’d be born on the summer solstice, than why am I a boy and not a girl?”

Ide settled back into her chair with a sigh. “Sweetheart, it was no accident that you were born male. The only accident was when… well… when I got pregnant with you when I did. That wasn’t planned.”

“Great. So I’m just an enormous accident,” Rory said, hanging his head. “The boys in training will thrilled. They already think I’m freak of nature. The son of Oeus…”

Ide caught Rory’s chin and lifted his face so they made eye contact again. “None of that is true, my dear. You are a blessing,” she said firmly, her blue eyes hard with conviction. “We never told you this, but your father and I tried for a child two other times before you were conceived.”

“You… you did?”

“Yes. And each time, I did the normal rituals every expectant mother would. Your father and I cast the prenatal spells. I drank the growth potions. I used my magic to nurture and protect my growing children, but both times, the pregnancies failed. I miscarried early term and it nearly ruined us,” Ide said stroking Rory’s cheek with loving affection. “We vowed never to try again after the second miscarriage. We were too heartbroken.”

“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t know.”

Ide waved Rory off. “A year later, I started showing signs of pregnancy again. I was so worried. I went to the midwife immediately. When she told me I was due on the summer solstice, I knew right away my little miracle baby was going to be a princess and that you’d be taken from me the very moment you were born.”

Rory frowned. He already knew what Ide was going to say next.

“I did the only thing I could think of, Rory,” she said intently. “I used just the tiniest bit of magic to make sure you were a boy. Nothing more. I did none of the normal rituals. I didn’t cast the spells, drink the potions, or use my internal magic. I had a totally natural pregnancy.”

Rory pressed his lips together. He wanted to cry. “Mom, do you know the other boys in training make fun of me because I’m not a girl? They call me the 7^th princess and there’s nothing I can say because they’re right!”

Ide’s face darkened. “Rory’s, that’s horrible.”

“It’s been going on for years, mom,” Rory said with a humorless laugh. “I’ll probably always be the butt to their jokes. That’s the life you chose for me, I guess.”

“How could I have ever known this would happen?” Ide said, her brows knitting together. “You’re obviously exhausted, Rory, and you’re making mountains out of mole hills. Take the potion and try to relax.”

Rory wanted to say more. He wanted to complain about the unfairness of the whole situation, but he decided to hold his tongue. Ide wasn’t listening to him anymore. She’d already made up her mind. With a sigh, Rory took the cork from the vial and drank the potion in one swallow.

“There. Now, lay down,” Ide said, running gentle fingers through Rory’s dark hair. “Get some rest.”

Rory rolled on his side so his back was to Ide and shut his eyes. For a minute or two, he stewed with unexpressed anger. The news that his mother was solely to blame for his 15 years of social torment was a heavy realization. He wanted to lash out, but he was used to ignoring the world’s many injustices. So, after a time, he found himself relaxing into his pillow, almost against his will. He figured Ide had added a sleeping draughts to the pain potion, too, so he didn’t try to fight it.

Ide started to sing in a soft voice as Rory began to lose consciousness. Happy 15^th, he said to himself, then he drifted off to sleep.

***

The morning after Rory’s big “fight” he watched Kinny pack up for the road. He and a troop of reinforcements would march to the very edge of Arcum, to the battlefields that separated their lands from Helmsfirth’s. He would be there for a month, fighting the enemy in an endless series of skirmishes. It was dangerous work, but every man in the village was expected to serve at some point so it was supposedly fair.

But two months in a row? That was unheard of for a family man of Kinny’s age.

But none of the them had any say in the matter.

So, Kinny kissed Ide goodbye, shook Rory’s hand, and was out the door before the sun broke over the horizon.

Then, maybe an hour later, Ide left for the fields and it, too, was a somber farewell. Farm work was hard work in general, and it paid significantly less than what Ide normally made with her seamstress skills. And with Kinny away fighting, Rory and Ide would have very little money to feed themselves. But yet again, they had no say in the matter. The community had spoken and this was Rory’s punishment. A month of thin broth and day-old bread, severed with a hefty dose of isolation.

Once Rory was alone he did something he almost never had the time to do. He went back to bed and slept until the sun was high in the sky. While it felt good to get extra sleep, Rory also felt pretty lazy and as soon as he got up, he went about tidying the house.

While most girls and boys Rory’s age were starting to use simple magic to do chores around the house, Rory did everything by hand. It had happened a year ago now, but it still haunted Rory’s memories. Once, Ide had asked him to clean the windows and stupidly, Rory had used magic to get the task done. Every single window in the house had shattered at the same exact moment, sending glass shards flying in all directions. Ide had been caught in the cross-hairs and Rory still wasn’t able to forgive himself. To this day, Ide sported a neat cut under her right eye from the incident.

Unfortunately, even though Rory took his time and did everything without magic, tidying up the house only took an hour or so. He was left with nothing to do and he struggled to find an activity to occupy his time. Normally, he’d be in magic training with the other boys in the arena until late. But now there was just…nothingness.

Since the house was clean, Rory decided he’d give himself a wash, as well. There was a large metal tub in the back corner of the room and when Rory checked he was relieved it was a third of the way filled with clear water. Rory wished he could do the same warming spell Ide usually did for him. But she wasn’t around, and he wasn’t brave enough to risk boiling himself to death.

So, little Rory climbed naked into the cold tub and began to clean himself. It was an unpleasant experience, for sure, but a necessary one. There was a fine layer of dirt and grime on his soft, pale-white skin from the attack at the arena the previous day, and as he ran a soapy wash cloth along his body, he encountered several large bruises, as well.

Rory washed up thoroughly with his cloth, then he bent at the waist and splashed the soap away. He didn’t know it, of course, but his thin, hairless body, glistening wet in the candlelight was a sight for sore eyes. Although he was injured, Rory clearly had an attractive figure. His smooth chest led to a flat, almost concave belly, narrow hips that flared into a luscious rounded bottom, and in front, a sweet, little cock nestled in a bed of soft, black pubes.

The very moment Rory finished rinsing, he climbed out of the tub and covered himself with his towel. He knew he was being paranoid but he had this itching feeling someone was watching him. The memories from yesterday were raw still, and he felt embarrassed to be naked again, even in private.

Honestly, Rory had never even considered his penis was small. Why would he? He’d never seen another boy naked before, so he had no reference. But now, he, and everybody else, too, knew his manhood was less than average. He didn’t know how he was ever going to live this down.

Rory dressed himself, then stood in front of the mirror to comb out his shoulder-length hair. As he got to work, Rory frowned at his sweet-faced reflection. It was no wonder the other kids made fun of him. Rory couldn’t even be angry with them anymore. Ide had confirmed it last night, at one time, Rory had been destined to be a girl, and most likely a princess at that. But out of some desperate need to keep him close, Ide had sabotaged fate itself.

Now, Rory was stuck with the consequences. He was a freak of nature and everybody knew it.

By the time he finished grooming, Rory was in a bad mood. He grabbed one of his father’s history books off the bookshelf and curled upstairs in bed with it. It was an old favorite of his, so luckily, the text read smoothly and Rory found himself getting wrapped up in the story.

The book was about the battle between Cian, God of everything good and light, and his brother, the Lord of shadows, Oeus. The story went that in the beginning, Cian and Oeus had ruled together in harmony. As time went on though, Oeus, jealous of his brother’s powers and sick of sharing, decided to take over. He gathered his followers and struck out against Cian. Unfortunately for him, Cian was more powerful than Oeus had anticipated. Cian used the power of light to defeat the revolt and with ease, the battle was ended. As a punishment, Cian absorbed his brother’s powers and cast him to the shadowy pits of hell.

Rory read the first few chapters of the book with a vague interest. He already knew all this information, he was mostly studying the pictures. After a couple hours had passed, Rory dozed off with the book on his chest.

When he woke up next, it was starting to get dark. Rory left the book on his bed and went down to start a simple dinner. Ide returned just as he finished warming a leftover stew over the fire. The two of them got bowls, served themselves with a bit of old bread, then sat together at the table.

“How was your day?” Rory asked.

“Long,” Ide said, and indeed, she looked weary. “I was in the fields all day with the sun beating down on me… I don’t know how I’m going to last til Sunday.”

Rory ducked his head, hiding the guilt he knew he wore on his face like a brand. “That sounds awful.”

“Eh.” Ide shrugged. “I’ll get through it somehow.”

Rory nodded. He didn’t doubt his mother’s determination. She was strong. She’d survive.

“I’m mostly worried about falling behind financially,” Ide said, taking a sip of her stew.” If I don’t get my normal sales for the month, money is going to be very tight. I was thinking today… why don’t you jump on my loom when I leave and make a bolt or two of fabric. When I get home, I can do an hour or two of work before bed.”

“I could go to the market for you,” Rory said timidly. He’d done it before a time or two, so he wouldn’t be totally in the dark, he’d probably have to deal with some dirty looks, but that unfortunately, had happened before, too. He could handle it.

“No,” Ide said slowly. “I’ll go Sunday. It’s best you just stay hidden for now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I heard some of the women talking today,” Ide continued. “I guess those boys you hurt are in the med ward. The healers are having a hard time healing them. They say you cursed them.”

“B-but I didn’t.”

Ide shrugged. “Your magic has always been unpredictable, Rory. Are you sure about that?”

Rory wasn’t.

“If I were you, I’d give it some serious thought,” Ide said. “You should use your time alone to forgive those poor boys. Maybe they’ll have a sudden improvement in health, if you do.”

“How’s little Rosie?” Rory grumbled. He was already resigning himself to a bunch of spiritual groveling, he wondered if he’d have to include the spiteful little brat in his thoughts, too.

“Bald,” Ide said, taking a bite of crusty bread. “But I believe her mother’s making her a wig.”

Rory fought with himself not to laugh. He could only imagine what the girl must look like. Still, he figured he’d have to find it in himself to forgive her, as well. It was the right thing to do.

The two of them finished dinner, then cleaned up after themselves. Ide had to be up early, so she turned in for the night. Rory could hear her getting ready for a bath as he climbed up the ladder and returned to his bed. He wasn’t tired, so he lit a lantern and opened his book for a second time.

After Cian stripped him of his powers, Oeus was vengeful and angry. He slipped through the shadows, and infected the minds of the neighboring tribe, the people of Helmsfirth. And though his magic was gone, he still had his intelligence. He taught the enemies technology beyond their years and showed them how to make weapons of destruction. Soon, Helmsfirth became a formidable foe, and the war between the nations began. Oeus had promised his new followers power beyond their wildest dreams if they vanquished Arcum. The Euphon - the enchanted lake from whence all magic was sourced – was on Arcum’s lands, and was responsible for the village’s unbounded power. Should the Euphon ever be lost, all hope would go with it. Helmsfirth had been fighting for the past 400 years, and Arcum had defended itself for just as long.

Rory fell asleep again as he neared the end of the book. It slid from his fingers and fell to the floor, open on a drawing of Oeus, a sexy, dark haired man, swaying the minds of Helmsfirth’s greatest. It was said his mind control was the only power he had left, but he used it to great advantage. It was Rory’s favorite drawing in the book. It always made him think about the persuasive power of darkness and he usually said a small prayer every time he saw it.

When Rory woke the next day, Ide was gone. Rory made himself breakfast and a cup of tea, then spent a few minutes tidying the house.

He remembered Ide’s request from the night before and he took his half-finished tea to the loom set by the back window. He got his supplies together, set up the loom, then with a spark of magic, Rory got the wooden machine spinning.

Weaving was the only time Rory used magic outside the training arena. Ide had been teaching him to use the machine since he was a young boy, and the magic came natural to him. They were still working on the seamstress part of the craft, but Rory was already considering taking up his mother’s trade. He found that practicing the skill was relaxing and he enjoyed the extra time he got to spend with his mother. It only made sense to peruse the idea.

Rory worked for several hours straight, stopping for a light lunch of bread and cheese, then he got right back to it. He ended up weaving four bolts of fabric, twice the amount Ide had asked for. The resulting material was a beautiful purple heather, soft and luxuriously smooth.

Ide came home just as Rory was finishing up.

“Nice work,” she said proudly when she checked Rory’s work. “I’m in the mood, I’m going to get washed up, then I’ll start sewing.”

“What about dinner?” Rory asked.

“Could you pour some stew in a mug?” Ide asked, pushing her sleeves up so she could do a rudimentary wash in the tub. “I don’t have time to sit down. I’ll just get sleepy and drift off if I do.”

Rory nodded. He understood. He went about warming up the stew again while Ide washed her arms and face.

The two of them ended up sipping their stew from mugs. Rory sat in the back with Ide, watching her fashion another beautiful tunic from the fabric he’d weaved. They talked late into the night about people in the village. It was a cozy evening.

The next day started the same. Rory woke up, made the last of the eggs for breakfast, then took his tea to the loom. He was deep in the task, watching the loom work with the assistance of his magic. The machine spun methodically, over and over, laying line after line of thin cotton—

Tap, tap, tap

Rory turned from the loom. Someone was at the door. He held his hands up and the loom ceased weaving. On shaky legs, he stood and started for the door as another round of knocking started up. Who could possibly be knocking right now? Why would anyone want to visit Rory, the town freak?

Rory reached the door and pulled it open, then froze. A tall, old man stared back at him. His face was incredibly wizened, and his gnarled white beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. He wore a beautiful, royal-blue cloak with a matching hat embellished in elegant, gold thread.

Rory knew this man. He, and everyone else in the village, saw him once a year on the first day of planting season when they all gathered at the Euphon and prayed for a good harvest. The old man in front of Rory was the High Priest Heimdall…the only human alive that was in direct contact with Cian…and in other words much too important to be knocking on a villager’s door.

“Oh!” Was all Rory was able to say. He meant to invite the man inside, politely ask to take his traveling cloak, and maybe offer him some tea before he collapsed from sheer shock. He opened his mouth to try again, “Uh…ah…”

“Would you mind terribly if I came inside, young Rory?” The High Priest asked kindly, seemingly amused with the boy’s astonishment. “I wish to speak with you.”

“Me?” Rory squeaked, shocked that the man was not only asking to come in but that he knew his name.

“Yes. You,” Heimdall said, smiling.

Rory swallowed. Oh no. This was worse than he could have ever imagined! Somehow, word of his loss of magical control had reached the ears of the nobles and Heimdall was being sent to excommunicate and strip Rory of his powers! Rory had heard of this happening before, but he’d always thought it was just a cautionary tale they told children to make them behave.

Feeling like he had no choice in the matter, Rory moved aside, reluctantly allowing the High Priest into his humble abode.

Heimdall looked cheerfully around the small dwelling while Rory watched him apprehensively. “Do you mind if I have a seat?” The priest asked politely after a moment, gesturing towards the cramped dining table with its four handcrafted stools. Rory nodded dumbly, watching as Heimdall sat.

And then the High Priest turned to stare at the very confused 15-year-old.

“I’m sure this is all very strange for you,” Heimdall said after another moment of silence had passed between them. Rory couldn’t help but think that the priest was underestimating things just a bit. “I apologize.” The old man bowed his head slightly, though his light-colored eyes didn’t leave Rory’s.

“Am I in trouble?” Rory blurted, regretting the words the moment they had passed his lips. But this was just too damn bizarre! The only way that this could get any weirder was if the king himself came waltzing through the door! Rory glanced over at the front entrance, almost expecting to see the king poking his head in. He wasn’t of course.

“No, my boy. You’re not in trouble.” Heimdall assured Rory, drawing the boy’s attention away from the door and back onto him. “Why don’t you come and have a seat and I will explain.”

“But…” Rory didn’t make a move to leave his spot near the door. Maybe he was still waiting for the king to come knocking, or maybe he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Heimdall to tell him he was going to be forcibly separated from his freakish powers. Maybe Rory was planning on running. Though the boy could barely think at the moment, let alone contemplate an escape. Truthfully, he felt rather overwhelmed. Having one of the most important people on the planet in your house can have that effect. “I—I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

“Please, come and join me.” Heimdall insisted, ushering Rory closer.

The boy reluctantly left his post by the door and came to sit across from the High Priest. He attempted to swallow down his nervousness, folded his hands on the tabletop, and stared at them intently. If he just focused on his hands, maybe he could keep himself from having a stroke. Unfortunately, calming his nerves had the adverse effect of making Rory blurt more stupid questions.

“You’re not here because of my magic?” he asked, and then promptly bit his tongue. Shut up! Rory yelled at himself.

“The magic is partly to blame for my visit today, yes.” Heimdall casually confirmed Rory’s worst nightmare. “But my visit here was inevitable. If it wasn’t today, then I would be knocking on your door another day, sometime soon.”

Rory childishly wished that Heimdall had picked a different day. “Are you going to take my powers?” he asked in a soft voice, still staring at his hands. He couldn’t even work up the anger to yell at himself for his question. As much as he feared the answer to this particular query, Rory needed to know it.

“What?” Heimdall sputtered, surprising Rory so much that he was forced to look up from his folded hands and at the shocked, and somewhat amused, expression on the High Priest’s face. “For losing control of your magic? All children make mistakes…it’s to be expected!”

But Rory wasn’t fooled by that!

“A boy that lives across the lane lost control of his magic,” Rory said, staring into the priest’s pale eyes for a few brave moments before he lost his nerve and looked away again. “He turned his brother into a cute puppy. It took his parents a few hours to make everything right again,” the 15 year old recited glumly, staring at his hands once more. “But when I lost control of my magic, I severely burned three boys, broke another boy’s skull, and burned a girl’s hair off.” Rory closed his eyes at his admission.

“There have been very few children with the kind of power you speak of so casually,” Heimdall said neutrally. “Indeed, you’re very special Rory.”

“Special?” Rory spat. He felt like a monster. His magic was always so destructive.

Heimdall ignored Rory’s crass response, calmly asking, “You are aware of our kingdom’s troubles, are you not?”

Rory glanced up at Heimdall again, shyly looking away when he saw how intently the old man was staring at him. “You mean our enemies to the south? The people of Helmsfirth?” Heimdall merely nodded and Rory bit his lip. “Yes. Of course.”

“Then you know that we are in no position to punish displays of power, my boy,” Heimdall said after a pause.

“But I hurt people…innocents,” Rory pointed out, not comfortable with feeling like his loss of control was somehow beneficial. Nobody else saw it that way.

“Did you wish to hurt them?” Heimdall asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Maybe,” Rory said. “They were tormenting me,” he added, embarrassed to admit to someone as important as Heimdall that he was bullied.

“And what were they tormenting you about?” The priest asked, his lips quirking upward in a restrained smile. He probably thought it was cute that Rory had nearly murdered people because he was teased.

“Everyone thinks it’s funny that I share a birthday with the Princess Hopefuls,” Rory said. He didn’t think he could get much more embarrassed than he already was, but he found himself blushing again as he spoke. “They all joke that I’m the seventh princess and that I’m supposed to marry the prince since I’m so girly.”

Rory, being somewhat pessimistic, expected Heimdall to laugh. However, when Rory’s explanation was met with silence, he took a chance and looked up to meet the priest’s gaze again.

The man looked deadly serious.

Rory suddenly realized that Heimdall probably knew Prince Kieran personally. They were probably on first name terms with one another, shared meals together, sat at the same table, and had casual conversations on a regular basis. And Rory had probably just insulted the prince.

“I’m sorry!” Rory said suddenly. He stood up, his stool nearly being knocked to the floor in his rush to back away from the table. “I meant no insult!” he cried, covering his face with his hands. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to blurt out his every thought! Oh Cian! Now he was definitely going to be excommunicated and stripped of his magic!

“We haven’t finished our conversation, Rory.” Heimdall’s voice, when it reached through Rory’s loud and frantic breathing, was neutral and flat. “We haven’t even truly began…Please do return to your seat.”

Rory peeked through his fingers, trying to gauge how angry the priest was. He didn’t look angry at all, however. He was staring at his own hands now, holding them firmly on the tabletop in a pose similar to Rory’s. His fingers were long and covered in gem encrusted rings. Rory came to sit back down, staring at Heimdall’s hands this time instead of his own. Rory recognized the vibrant green gem on Heimdall’s index finger. His Mother had a similar one on a necklace. She said it was to ward off evil spirits.

“I’m sorry…I know that I’m not worthy of the prince…I am a boy after all!”

“Rory.” Heimdall’s voice speaking his name brought the boy’s ramblings to a halt. “Do you know how the prince’s match is determined?”

“Of course,” Rory said. Everyone knew that. “On the summer solstice of the prince’s fifth birthday, Cian reveals which newborn girl will be the future Princess. Then, when the prince is twenty and the princess is fifteen, they are married.”

Heimdall barely even acknowledged Rory’s words. They both knew that he understood that particular royal tradition inside and out. Everyone did.

“You won’t remember obviously since you were just an infant, but the Princess was never officially announced,” Heimdall said slowly. He pulled his hands off the table and folded his arms over his chest again, looking almost uncomfortable. It was a strange pose for someone so sophisticated and important. Rory found himself following Heimdall’s example as he listened, wrapping himself up in his own arms. “The King and I…we felt it best that the villagers were kept in the dark about the identity of the Princess. Not even the Queen nor the Prince know the name of Cian’s choice.”

Rory’s eyes widened. Why was he being told such privileged information? Why was Heimdall even paying him the time of day? What was going on here? Instead of voicing any of those questions, Rory cleared his throat and shyly asked, “But why?”

Heimdall stared at Rory and this time, Rory refused to let himself look away. “Because there is no Princess.”

“No Princess?” How was that even possible? Rory wondered. “What does that mean?” he asked, intensely curious.

“It means that Cian picked a boy,” Heimdall said steadily. “He picked you, Rory. You are the Prince’s chosen mate.”

Rory leaned away from the table, too stunned to stand up but needing to get some sort of perspective, some sort of distance between himself and Heimdall’s miraculous claim. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly, worriedly.

“I know. It’s very strange. There is no record of Cian ever picking a boy. It has been girls for hundreds of years.”

“But then…” Were Holden and his horrible friends right? Was Rory really supposed to be the seventh princess? What sort of cruel joke was this? “Why did no one tell me?”

Heimdall sighed wearily, as if he had been hoping Rory wouldn’t ask that particular question. “I’ll be honest with you, Rory. We didn’t reveal your identity because the last thing Arcum needs is to find out they will have two Princes.”

“A Prince!” Rory flushed, getting that overwhelmed feeling again. This talk was heresy!

“You, I’m sure, are aware that homosexuality is not looked highly upon in our fair kingdom,” Heimdall said sarcastically.

“I’m not gay!” Rory said quickly, as if this entire intervention was to nab Rory for his sexual preferences. Which were nonexistent anyway. He’d never even dared to have a crush on someone else before.

“Neither is the Prince,” Heimdall said. “But that is neither here nor there. Cian’s will must be followed as closely as possible but the King also needs to keep morale high. We are on the brink of full out war and angering his people is the last thing the King is interested in.”

“But what about my parents? Why didn’t they tell me?” Rory whined, trying to distract himself from finding out he was the kingdom’s dirty secret. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

“They don’t know.”

Rory chewed on his bottom lip. “Am I going to have to tell them?”

“I’ll be back to tell them…sometime very soon. I wanted to approach you first, however.”

Rory didn’t know whether or not to be grateful. At least the priest seemed to respect him. And no wonder! Rory was going to be his boss soon enough! He’d be a damned Prince! A King even!

“The King wanted to keep you here and in the dark, but after your display of magic earlier this week, I thought that it would be best to take you to your rightful place.”

Rightful place?! Rory closed his eyes. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

“You’ll be trained in magic, alongside the Prince. You will also be schooled in courtly ways, manners and graces and the like.” Heimdall smiled warmly before he confided in an amused voice, “The King is under the impression that you are an uncouth little sprite.”

“Oh…” Rory lowered his gaze. He was rather uncivilized. Or at least compared to the royals. Just a moment ago, Rory had been speaking rather casually with High Priest Heimdall. The boy didn’t know how badly he had insulted the priest with his informality, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had insulted him.

However, Heimdall was still smiling. “I will implore the King to rethink his assessment of you. We are lucky that Cian chose you and not one of your little friends.” Rory glanced up again when Heimdall mentioned Holden and his goons, his expression one of confusion. “Ganging up and taunting a fellow age mate is the height of impropriety,” Heimdall said.

Rory smiled softly, sure that the High Priest had just complimented him. “Thank you, sir.”

“You are most welcome.”

Heimdall didn’t stay much longer. He assured Rory that he would be back to speak to his parents in a few days and he made sure Rory knew he didn’t have to tell anyone about the High Priest’s visit if he didn’t want to.

And Rory didn’t. This was all so amazingly weird, Rory just wanted to keep it to himself for now.

Heimdall pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he got up and made for the door. “I will see you again shortly, Rory,” he said kindly. The priest placed a hand on Rory’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Goodbye,” Rory said softly, meeting the priest’s pale eyes bravely. The High Priest was much nicer than Rory ever could have imagined. He was feeling much better after talking to him.

It didn’t matter if he was out of place here anymore… he would go to the castle, soon, and yes, he would have to leave his parents behind for now, but he would gain so much!

He would have a place to belong. He would make friends with Prince Kieran! And no one in the castle would look at him strangely for having such unnatural powers. The royals had the most powerful magic in the land. They would understand him. They wouldn’t look at Rory with fear and distrust.

The High Priest’s vibrant blue traveling cloak turned into a shabby black color with but a wave of the man’s hand. With his face hidden within the hood of the cloak, he no longer looked like a royal. “Good day,” he said softly, turning and striding from Rory’s doorstep. The street beyond was crowded with people coming from the market, carrying goods or going to work. A group of children ran around the priest’s unassuming figure, weaving through the crowd with ease. Nobody noticed the priest, and no one looked in Rory’s direction.

Hoping to keep it that way, Rory shut the front door and slid to the floor, leaning back against the solid wood as his mind raced.

He couldn’t believe it. After years of being teased, it seemed everybody had been right. Rory was the seventh princess.

It was all a lot to take in, but Rory was convinced that it was for the best. This was, in fact, his destiny. He sat for a moment, his head spinning, then, Rory got to his feet and returned to the loom. He wasn’t in the mood to weave anymore, but he figured time would pass quicker if he kept his head down and worked. Soon enough, he would be leaving this place…

As he concentrated on threading strands of cotton together with his magic, Rory found himself smiling. He felt like he’d won the lottery, he couldn’t wait to see what was in store for him.