The Choosing (The Arcadia Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Rachel Hanna, Bella James
was worth it for the milk.
Milking the goat required standing on all six legs and using all six hands, though, which none of them unfortunately possessed. It did not require a stool. Sitting next to the goat would be stupid. Hitting oneself in the face was faster than pretending Sweet Girl was going to allow anyone to milk her without consequences.
Livy had already tucked the curtain closed, sealing herself and her grandfather into his room, surrounded by his possessions and memories. As he ate she regaled him with tales of the big world, made as amusing as possible, and he even sometimes laughed, though her adventures with the Centurion today made him scowl with worry. Finally laying his tray aside, he looked her squarely in the eyes, his faded blue eyes boring into her bright blues.
"What was blocking the plow, Olivia? I can see you fair to bursting with some news."
She gave a quick look around. However alone they were, it would never feel alone enough. Then Livy drew the book out from under her tunic and watched her grandfather's eyes fasten on the book and glow with happiness.
"Tonight, after the others have gone to bed," he mouthed at her, and she smiled, secretive and joyful, and took his tray, and returned to her chores.
D inner was never quiet . With eight of them at the table – nine when Grandfather Bane was feeling up to it – dinner was raucous and loud and joyous. The eldest of six, Olivia was rarely at a loss for a companion. Sometimes silence and solitude were welcome.
Her father had come back with her as her mother had requested. Jep Bane was tall and rugged, with scars from his years working with ploughs, tack and cutlery, with molten metallic-laden ore gathered from trade with nearby Tundrus. His father, Livy's Grandfather Bane, had tried to teach his son everything he wanted to pass down from the Before Times, but Jep Bane had a family to raise. He'd met Madeline – Maddy, or more often, Mad – Still when they were both just past the age to leave required schooling. Neither had ever looked back. What good did reading do in a world that outlawed books? They'd learned the basics – sums and how to trade and how to farm - and the rest of it came from trial and error.
The more important lessons in life were how to survive the Plutarch's rule, to keep one's head down when the Centurions were on the prowl, to tithe what was required and to grumble against the rule only when safely at home for the night with trusted family members.
Today, though, he'd taken the time to show Livy something different. What he'd been doing in his shop, creating bullets and calling them freedom , that was new. And probably dangerous. For Livy it was a side of her father she'd never even suspected. Her Grandfather, yes – he'd teach any of the children how to read, how to write, and tell them stories of Before Times, though of all of them, Olivia was the only one who wanted more than the stories.
She wanted the life her grandfather had led. She wanted to know what freedom felt like; at the same time she wanted her family safe.
"That old man," her mother said when Livy came out from her grandfather's quarters that night. "What's he filling your head with tonight?" It was a familiar refrain.
But tonight Livy thought her mother had sounded strained, and she'd instantly sent Livy to fetch her father in for dinner.
So at dinner, while Tad, the youngest who required constant care because of a tendency to eat everything including nonedibles like the table itself, laughed and Geoffrey told stories from the fields, Pippa tales from school, Vicki and Kellan told tales of running with their friends before and after their mandatory shifts, and while they made up rhymes and snatches of song, Livy let her gaze soften and listened hard to her parents.
Dinner was one of the times of day they spent together, and the noise of the siblings masked whatever conversation they needed to share. Sometimes Livy overheard them. Sometimes she
Milking the goat required standing on all six legs and using all six hands, though, which none of them unfortunately possessed. It did not require a stool. Sitting next to the goat would be stupid. Hitting oneself in the face was faster than pretending Sweet Girl was going to allow anyone to milk her without consequences.
Livy had already tucked the curtain closed, sealing herself and her grandfather into his room, surrounded by his possessions and memories. As he ate she regaled him with tales of the big world, made as amusing as possible, and he even sometimes laughed, though her adventures with the Centurion today made him scowl with worry. Finally laying his tray aside, he looked her squarely in the eyes, his faded blue eyes boring into her bright blues.
"What was blocking the plow, Olivia? I can see you fair to bursting with some news."
She gave a quick look around. However alone they were, it would never feel alone enough. Then Livy drew the book out from under her tunic and watched her grandfather's eyes fasten on the book and glow with happiness.
"Tonight, after the others have gone to bed," he mouthed at her, and she smiled, secretive and joyful, and took his tray, and returned to her chores.
D inner was never quiet . With eight of them at the table – nine when Grandfather Bane was feeling up to it – dinner was raucous and loud and joyous. The eldest of six, Olivia was rarely at a loss for a companion. Sometimes silence and solitude were welcome.
Her father had come back with her as her mother had requested. Jep Bane was tall and rugged, with scars from his years working with ploughs, tack and cutlery, with molten metallic-laden ore gathered from trade with nearby Tundrus. His father, Livy's Grandfather Bane, had tried to teach his son everything he wanted to pass down from the Before Times, but Jep Bane had a family to raise. He'd met Madeline – Maddy, or more often, Mad – Still when they were both just past the age to leave required schooling. Neither had ever looked back. What good did reading do in a world that outlawed books? They'd learned the basics – sums and how to trade and how to farm - and the rest of it came from trial and error.
The more important lessons in life were how to survive the Plutarch's rule, to keep one's head down when the Centurions were on the prowl, to tithe what was required and to grumble against the rule only when safely at home for the night with trusted family members.
Today, though, he'd taken the time to show Livy something different. What he'd been doing in his shop, creating bullets and calling them freedom , that was new. And probably dangerous. For Livy it was a side of her father she'd never even suspected. Her Grandfather, yes – he'd teach any of the children how to read, how to write, and tell them stories of Before Times, though of all of them, Olivia was the only one who wanted more than the stories.
She wanted the life her grandfather had led. She wanted to know what freedom felt like; at the same time she wanted her family safe.
"That old man," her mother said when Livy came out from her grandfather's quarters that night. "What's he filling your head with tonight?" It was a familiar refrain.
But tonight Livy thought her mother had sounded strained, and she'd instantly sent Livy to fetch her father in for dinner.
So at dinner, while Tad, the youngest who required constant care because of a tendency to eat everything including nonedibles like the table itself, laughed and Geoffrey told stories from the fields, Pippa tales from school, Vicki and Kellan told tales of running with their friends before and after their mandatory shifts, and while they made up rhymes and snatches of song, Livy let her gaze soften and listened hard to her parents.
Dinner was one of the times of day they spent together, and the noise of the siblings masked whatever conversation they needed to share. Sometimes Livy overheard them. Sometimes she
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