Prologue

Ajace rocked back and forth on his father’s chair on his termite ridden front porch staring across his fields. He felt such a strong sense of pride in what he’d accomplished this season. It wouldn’t be long now before it was time to harvest the cotton. It would be good to trade for a few odds and ends they needed- like the new wood for the porch. He knew it would hold up a little longer though. Unknown to the rest of the town, he had an ace in his pocket. His best friend was the apprentice to the sorceress and even though she wasn’t supposed to she would occasionally enchant an odd item here and there for free.

The wind stirred and Ajace watched his crops bow beneath the power of the swirling air. Brilliantly white cotton buds danced on their branches. There was a greater emotion then pride here. It was love. Love for the land, love for the fields he’d plowed with his own two hands, love for the beauty that was the tiny seed, the fluffy buds, and every stage in between. He loved what he did.

A woman sat next to him. Rocking back and forth in his mother’s chair. She reached over and took his hand softly in hers. “You love this, don’t you,” she asked in a small voice. He nodded once. Choosing to let the silence of spread between them. Not the awkward silence of two people who didn’t know how to exist in each other’s space. This was a silence of comfort, of familiarity. They rocked back and forth in sync for a few passing moments starring across the cotton fields where the sunset in the distance glowed an array of colors. Yet to him, and to her – the most beautiful thing was the land itself.

“Look at me,” she commanded in the same small voice. Unable to resist her, Ajace turned to look at her. She was not a pretty woman by any means, but she was the most beautiful creature in the world to him. After studying her for a few more moments of quiet, he decided it was her hands. She had the hands of a worker, of a farmer. Callouses and kicks and a small bruise on her wrist where she’d mishandled something just enough to leave a mark. These were the hands of a woman he could trust to plow the fields along with him. The hands of a woman willing to wake up before the breaking light of dawn to work the day along beside each other in that familiar, comfortable silence.

“Would you like to come with me, Ajace,” the woman with the beautiful hands asked in that small still voice. Something stirred deep inside him. A primal urge telling him to fight, to flee, to do anything but say…

“Yes.”

Her hazel eyes swirled and he could see a full wheat harvest in the depths of those loving hazel eyes. Her smile widened and for a moment fear swept over him as some part of his brain registered that she had too many teeth. Pointed teeth, sharp teeth. Then a wash of calm consumed his being and he broke out in a fit of laughter.

“This way my love,” the woman said as she stood and offered her beautiful calloused hand. He took hers and the two disappeared into the setting sun.