Brightflame Accension (Book 1) by D.B. Penner Read Free Book Online Page A

tried to seize Art’s collar, but fell back with a cry of pain. Will then guided Art to an empty plot where they now sat by their small fire, watching hungrily as the fat crackled and dripped off the hares into the flames.
    “Look,” Will said, pointing to the group of girls who had taunted Art’s courtesy. They were weaving slowly but steadily through the crowd towards them. 
    “Come to laugh at the way we cook our dinner, no doubt,” Art muttered, looking sullen. The girls arrived, the boys made no move to stand, but Will smiled up at them. The raven-haired girl Will had admired earlier spoke first.
                  “I like your haircuts; they suit you.”
    Art grumbled something incoherent in response.
    “Since we’re all fresh recruits, I thought might introduce ourselves,” she smiled brightly; she had a pretty smile. “I’m Vivyan Payne. This is Maribelle, Heather, and Beckah,” she said, her eyes on Will.
    Tall, lean, and lithe in her movements, Vivyan was a beauty in all respects. Golden-brown eyes stole Will’s breath straight from his chest, and the manner in which her hair carelessly cascaded over her shoulders, glistening in the dim torchlight and waving gracefully whenever she stirred, had Will enthralled. With a rush, Will noticed that her eyes had not left him since her approach.
    “I‘m farm boy,” Will grinned, hoping his smile could hide his nerves from the girls. Art guffawed; however, the girls looked confused.
    “What the simpleton means to say is, ‘In all my years alone on my plot of land, I’ve never beheld anything so ravishing as you. It’s an honor to be acquainted with such a divine creature.’ But I’m afraid this one’s not much for words,” Art teased. The girl Maribelle laughed with him.
    “And that’s why he keeps you around then?” Vivyan’s lips curled in jest. “Because you’re a big sack of syllables?”
    “You wound,” Art declared, feigning injury.
    “I’m Will, if it pleases you milady,” Will offered.
    “It might,” Vivyan said playfully, “if you live up to your surname. However, from where I stand, Stormhand, your hands look rather common.”
    “Will Stormhand,” the girls tittered.
    It was an annoying sound, Will thought. He had a sudden desire to be left alone with his hare that had now cooked to perfection.
    The silly laughs paused for a moment as the girl named Maribelle spoke. “Who are you, Wind Bags?” said Maribelle, peering at Arthur. 
    “Arthur Tableground,” he said proudly.
    “I know your father, then. He has delivered many a message to my lord father, Sir Rees.”
    “Lord Rees Vandigort of Quelling Shore? Well met, fair Lady Maribelle.”
    “Well met indeed, Wind Bags,” she winked.
    Vivyan spoke before Art could continue, “It would appear your conies are well-roasted; we had best take leave and let you eat in peace.” Will noted how sweet and melodious her voice was. Never had he been so incapable of intelligent thought as he was in that moment.
    Far too late, Will called, “Goodbye,” but he spoke to their retreating backs and received no answer. Will settled back, leaning against his pack, and began on his hare. He had wanted to say more, something humorous that would have made Vivyan laugh, but the time was past. Reflecting upon the conversation, Will felt inane. How could a single conversation make him feel so uncomfortable?
    “You feeling well?” Art asked Will who sat staring at the fire.
    “She was beautiful,” Will murmured, lost in the flames.
    “The whole pack was rather attractive, to tell it true. I’ve had women before but never one that looked so… fit. They seem to flock to me. You could study me for years and never discern the source of the phenomenon. I couldn’t tell you which feature the females are so enamored with,” Art boasted.
    “Most like it’s your innate ability to keep-”
    “Silent!” shouted a voice that echoed through the camp. “Let us have silence!” The