Read Online Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) by Sever Bronny - Free Book Online Page A

awareness, assertiveness, forethought, and creativity,” he said, hands loosely by his side, “that is the key to this spell.”
    The morning passed quickly, and at midday Mrs. Stone materialized with a loud THWOMP, gnarled walking stick in hand.
    “Welcome, Anna,” Thomas said.
    Mrs. Stone gave her much younger-looking husband a curt nod. “Thomas.”
    Watching the way they greeted each other, with neither warmth nor affection, made Augum wonder if there were any feelings left between the old married couple. Perhaps the fact that Thomas was Leyan prohibited it, or perhaps the years simply washed those affections away. In any case, they appeared to be mere acquaintances now. Yet Augum hoped that that would never happen to him. If he was ever going to get married, he wanted to be with his love forever.
    Mya appeared from the woods carrying a handful of different-colored leaves, while Sydo stopped his training with Oba and approached, cheeks red, hair askew. Earlier, he had made the mistake of whining to Oba, receiving quite the rebuke in turn, something to the effect of donkey droppings having more courage.
    Mrs. Stone straightened. “The time has come to speak with the millennials.” Her eyes flicked between the trio. “You are to be silent and civil. Are we clear?”
    “Yes, Mrs. Stone,” they chorused.
    Thomas gestured at the swaying oaks. “As custom demands, we shall walk. Prepare yourselves—the song of the wastes is as strong as the wind.” He led them through the forest and out into the open where a ripping gale raked bare skin with sand. The visibility was almost nil. Those that had hoods drew them. Sydo hid his face in the crook of his elbow. Thomas and Oba were the only ones seemingly unaffected by the blasting, not even closing their eyes.
    Mrs. Stone let the young pass, taking the rear with Oba. As Augum put one foot in front of the other, he felt his thoughts slowly darken. Why couldn’t Thomas arcane something up to block the wind, or even teleport them there? Why did they always have to do things the hard way? Why why why …
    So immersed was he in shadowy ruminations he tripped over something.
    “Watch yourself, peasant!” the prince shouted, standing and brushing himself off. “You blind clod—did you not seen me stumble?”
    Augum felt his anger rise. “Well I was going to apologize—”
    “Take that apology and—”
    “Why are you two always fighting!” Bridget yelled above the din, turning on them. “I’m so sick of it!”
    “What are you talking about,” Augum began, “I didn’t—”
    Leera grabbed her head. “Ugh, why don’t you all just shut up—”
    “Enough!” Mrs. Stone said, waving her stick to shoo them along. “Keep walking and think of good tidings, we dare not dally.” She removed the scion from within her robe and released it to hover around her. “This should help,” she said before returning to the rear of the line.
    “Lowly commoner,” Sydo muttered as the group resumed the march.
    Augum restrained himself from replying and followed, but his eyes kept returning to Sydo, bumbling along just ahead. That stupid doublet, the nasty hair—he hasn’t changed one bit. It just went to show that even a Leyan’s ancient arcanery couldn’t change a brat.
    He simmered like this for a while, until eventually his thoughts boiled over and he “accidentally” stepped on the prince’s heel.
    Sydo whirled about, face purple. “How dare you step on the royal heel, you insolent bumpkin cur, you base bastard of the lowest breeding, you gutterborn—”
    Augum saw the Penderson brats dancing around the tree he took cover in, calling him names, throwing things until he fell. He listened to poor old Meli’s pulse fade and disappear beneath him. He felt Dap’s fist buckle his innards and drain his breath. He saw Robin Scarson leading an entire village with laughter …
    He did not feel the single lightning ring form around his wrist. What he did feel was a gratifying