Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] Read Online Free PDF

dangling over his shoulder, which he threw in front of the campfire. Another man set about butchering it with a huge, shining knife.
    Aislan's hunting experience had been limited to riding behind the hunting party chasing after prey and watching it taken down. On the many occasions when she had hidden out in the forest, she had survived merely on plants and roots. She had never watched a butchering. It might be hypocritical of her, considering she ate meat without a thought, but prepared food came to her on a platter. Having spent most of her life locked up or under guard, Aislan had never been in a kitchen. When they started the skinning and gutting process, she pressed a hand to her mouth and tried to control herself from heaving. She turned her head aside, unable to watch another beheading.
    Aislan heard splashing in the river just behind the grove of trees. The men eventually drifted back to camp, some of them bare-chested. She averted her gaze, dreading the thought of half-dressed men walking around.
    The Dark Lord came to her, the most powerful presence out of all as he loomed over her. Aislan swallowed, feeling a touch of anxiety, but strangely, it had nothing to do with fear. He had removed his chain mail, his dagger and the long sword hanging from the belt of his baldric. Aislan's heart pounded a staccato as she reacted to his charismatic aura. He looked mighty and capable, and despite his youth, she sensed his authority in the midst of insolent men. She could only surmise that sorcerers, by nature, were more arrogant than normal.
    She met his gaze while striving to maintain her composure. Dynamic and full of self-assurance, he looked ready and capable to keep all the men at bay. Aislan's mouth went dry as the silvery gaze lingered on her face, making her shamefully excited being the constant focus of his attention.
    "I must wash. Come with me.” He waited for a short moment, but when she still did not move, he turned and strode away.
    Aislan pulled herself out of her stupor and scrambled to her feet. He probably thought she was being stubborn with him, but she had no intention remaining behind. Too many half-naked, hungry men paced about, and she noticed one man in particular who kept studying her. The men addressed him as Sorsvasus Nadan, his expressionless perusal making her flesh crawl.
    Rounding the bend, she saw the Dark Lord standing at the bank, looking across the water. He turned, dark and majestic looking, and watched her approach. Aislan met his gaze and felt inordinately nervous, but not with the same nervousness as she had felt with the other men. Her skin tingled, and she nearly stumbled. She wondered how she could have become so clumsy, considering she usually was quite nimble on her feet.
    "Get in the water, please,” he said quietly but firmly.
    "I—I need no washing."
    "You have mud on your face.” His hand went to rest on the hilt of his sword. His tone of voice brooked no disobedience. Even though he spoke to her, his eyes focused behind her. Aislan resisted the urge to turn around and follow his gaze. She slowly stepped into the water until ankle deep.
    "Wash your face,” he said, as if a clean face was of the utmost importance.
    Kneeling, she cupped water with one hand before tentatively splashing it on her face. The cold water felt refreshingly good. As she rubbed, her hand came away slippery with mud.
    The Dark Lord shifted his gaze from her hand to the water, then back to her face, studying her. She looked away nervously. Finally, he hunkered down next to her and cupped water, splashing and rubbing his own face clean. Aislan could not stop herself, feeling compelled despite herself to stare at him. Quite breathtaking, he had a perfect profile, a high forehead, and a classically high-bridged nose. His mouth was beautifully male, wide and sensual, with a slightly fuller bottom lip. The cleft in his chin only made his rugged, chiseled jaw more defined. He pulled the cuff off, and his thick,