Read Online The Seedbearing Prince: Part I by DaVaun Sanders - Free Book Online

weathered brow as
he brushed absently at his threadbare feastday clothes. His row
always filled last whenever people gathered for stories or open
council. Most occasions, it would not fill at all. Nerlin sat
stiffly and avoided looking in their direction. Hesitant mutters
and doubtful frowns rippled through the group.
    “Leave over.” Dayn gave the boy a hard look,
even though his words may have discouraged Esane's foolish outing.
The Misthavener stares bordered on open jeering. They gawked not at
Nerlin, but his foot. Or rather, where his foot had once been.
“He's done nothing to you, and that came from no wreathweaver.”
    “What happened then, Mistlander?” One of the
Misthaven boys asked. “Caught in a gravespinner's web?”
    “If you must know, go ask him yourself.”
    The Wia Wells boys all echoed their
agreement, suddenly remembering themselves. No matter what they
disliked about each other, Mistlanders always banded together
around outsiders. Especially capital folk. The withered old farmer
glanced up so quickly Dayn nearly missed it. A grateful look.
    Esane suddenly gave a low, appreciative
whistle. “Peace, what I wouldn't give for some maidenvine right
now.” One of the girls from the Dawnbreak Inn before glided toward
them. Nerlin―and the Dreadfall, peace be praised―were instantly
forgotten. Dayn swallowed in spite of himself, and unconsciously
patted his braids.
    “My cousin, Falena.” A Misthaven boy
stammered through introductions. He clearly did not bother to
remember their names. Dayn could not fault him too much, for he did
not recall the Misthavener's name, either.
    “Falena Ankehl, from Misthaven,” she added
the last pointedly, looking them all over. Esane, and the rest
grinned foolishly, tripping over each other to offer her hugs, but
Dayn felt ready to gag over the next Misthavener to announce her
city.
    “Happy Evensong, sister,” he said stiffly. He
would ask Milede to dance himself before fawning over any of these
haughty strangers.
    “Such poor manners, Brel! Forgive my cousin.
Happy Evensong,” Falena peered up at Dayn expectantly through long
eyelashes. Dayn took the hint and hugged her reluctantly. Refusing
one would be considered a serious insult. Her fingertips teased his
back, making the hairs on his neck stand up.
    “What was your name?”
    “Dayn Ro'Halan.” He could not resist adding,
“From Wia Wells, closest village to the Dreadfall.”
    The Wia Wells boys groaned audibly. Falena's
expression faltered, but she recovered smoothly, glancing at the
platform for a moment. Singers from Kohr Springs and Southforte now
rehearsed with the musicians. A Southforte lute player stared at
Falena, and she favored him with a dazzling smile. He yelped an
oath when one of his strings snapped.
    “Ro'Halan...that name sounds familiar. Your
father sits on the Trade Circle, doesn't he?” The village boys'
heads bobbed eagerly before Dayn even opened his mouth. They were
positively moonstruck over this maiden. “I thought so. He is highly
spoken of in Misthaven, Laman is. Even though he’s...” She coughed
delicately into her hand.
    Even though he’s from Wia Wells, Dayn
finished silently. He suddenly did not care to dance with this
Falena at all.
    “I suppose he'll be mayor here one day,” she
continued, playfully twirling her blue garland.
    “Our Village Council serves well enough,”
Dayn said flatly. Several of the boys gave firm nods before
catching themselves. Falena affected not to notice them
eavesdropping, and Dayn did not care.
    “So there’s more to you than farming. And I
hear you’re not in love with wielding the staff like that beanpole
Misthavener pestering all of my friends for kisses,” Falena said.
“Can I sit with you for the storytelling?”
    “Everyone, please join us,” Elder Buril's
resonant voice boomed from the platform of the Speaker's Turn,
forestalling Dayn's answer. The Turn immediately began to fill.
    Dayn spotted his neighbor Grahm sitting