The Blood Sigil (The Sigilord Chronicles Book 2) Read Free Page A

means talking about completely useless, boring things," she snapped.
    "Are you going? To the harvest festival, I mean."
    "Not if I can help it."
    Colin fixed his gaze on the ground, stricken. Whatever he lacked in conversational skills, he sure make up for in looks. He had a nice face; it even looked nice with the little scraggly bit of beard coming in on his solid jawline. He had farmers' arms, and all his menial chores didn't hurt his ability to fill out the backside of a pair of trousers. Even his tousled, dirty blond hair had a peculiar beauty to it.
    She caught herself staring and looked away, shifting her gaze back to the sheep. Thankfully he hadn't noticed the look in her eyes. If he'd seen that, there would be no discouraging him. He was just so…boring. He had no magic, no ambition to do anything other than be a farmer. He'd never even left the island. How could someone be content with such a simple life, when there was so much more out there, so much opportunity begging to be seized? She wasn't going to sit on a porch and watch life drift by like the ships passing Aldsdowne's harbors.
    Colin sat up straighter. "I know I'm just a farmhand and you've been all sorts of places and seen all kinds of amazing things, but if you change your mind I sure would love to show you what passes for a great time on Aldsdowne."
    "Look, Colin, I—" She turned and looked into his green eyes. They lacked the depth of those belonging to Urus, Goodwyn, or any of the others she had met six months before. He hadn't seen the things they had seen. With Colin, there seemed to be no depth at all. "I really haven't decided if I will be going."
    She didn't want to shut down his advances completely—Who knew when a devotion as strong as his might come in handy?
    Colin beamed. "It's probably not like the parties in big cities, but we know how to have fun. There's plenty of great food. Amos Bish buries and smokes three whole pigs just for the occasion! And there's games and music and the boat races, the archery challenge and there's a corn maze. Oh, and there's a wagon pull. I won that last year." He said the last part with no small amount of pride. Confidence looked good on him, Cailix thought.
    She shook her head, banishing the image of his good looks and focusing on more immediate needs. She needed to get to the other side of the range, and she didn't want anyone—especially Colin—to see her go.
    "Tell you what, Colin," Cailix began, facing him again, this time with full control of herself. She needed him to do something for her, and that meant she was in control—always the safest thing for her. "If you help me with something, then I might consider going to the harvest festival with you."
    He lit up, smiling from ear to ear, leaning forward a little. "Name it, I'll do anything."
    "It's getting a little late in the season for apples, and Miss Orla has been talking about how she'd love to make a few more apple pies before the season passes," Cailix started but Colin put a hand on top of hers. She gasped a little and pulled her hand away. She wasn't comfortable with being touched, least of all by Colin.
    "Say no more, Cailix," said the young man, bounding to his feet. "We have dozens of trees at the back of our property just at the edge of the hills. There's more ripe apples than we can use. I can pick you a bushel full."
    "Oh that would be fantastic," Cailix said, laying on her most persuasive tone and smiling as widely as she could muster. The smile was artificial and her cheeks hurt from the effort, but it was enough to get the job done.  
    Colin smiled back, wiping damp bits of grass from his pants. "I'll bring the bushel by tomorrow morning in the wagon. We can go to market together, since I hear you all are bringing a load of grain."
    Cailix stood, itching to leave. "Thank you."
    Colin bowed his head, bent his knees, and stretched his hand out to the side. "'Tis my pleasure, my lady."
    Cailix couldn't help but giggle a little. He