Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

deviously, one eyebrow hiked. I show my approval with a lascivious gesture. A red blanket drapes her cheeks.

She finagles with the belt about her waist. More of an accessory, really, with how thin it is. She slips it from her waist, and my eyes grow wide. What is going on? Is she taking off…

“Argh!” She cracks me with the belt right across my shoulder. “What was that for?”

“Imprudence. Stay on track. And think with your mind, not that ungodly appendage that seems to control so many men.”

She puts the belt on the table right next to the wooden spoon. The tools of tutoring. With Astor, it’s more like torture.

“Moving on, then.” And her eyes rapidly shift back to the parchment. “How about the History of Lahyf?” she insists.

I nod my head incredulously. “Yes, History of Lahyf. Not so far off from the meaning of life, don’t you think? It sounds like a splendid topic to cover.”

“Good.”

I pull the collar of my shirt back to see the damage done, and sure enough, there is a brilliant red mark. A thin slit of dark red blood amidst the irritated flesh mends before my eyes, and the blemish vanishes soon after.

Astor stands. “May I?” she pleas and gestures toward my shoulder. Her hand is nowhere near her belt or that wooden spoon, so I relax. She pulls back my tunic and examines my shoulder. “If only my medicines could perform such wonders.” She tugs at my collar, scanning farther back than where the belt landed. “What’s this?”

“A scar,” I mutter, unprepared for her probing. “Why?”

“Where did you get it from? When?” she probes further.

“My childhood,” I reply. “My last encounter with Harris Martelli before my admittance into his academy. Why?”

Her hand snaps away as though it’ll bite her. Or as if it were contagious. “This is more involved than I had imagined…” She trails off in thought.

“Astor?” I wave my hand in front of her face. She remains standing over my shoulder. Her presence warming, but unnerving. As much as I enjoy her closeness, I interrupt the moment. “What are you saying?”

There is a partial handprint wrapped around the base of my neck. Low enough to be hidden by any tunic. The mark was pure black at inception but has faded over time. Like everlasting ink that cannot be scrubbed away and only time will undo. She’s familiar with the mark.

“I thought he was interested in you to sever loose ends. I thought he wanted you under his wing to ensure you didn’t do anything drastic. But he intends for you to be one of his pawns.”

“Astor?” I rise face-to-face with her. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Stone…” she breathes my name. Almost a whisper.

I shrug my shoulders, leaning in closer.

“It’s…a bond,” she continues. “Harris. He is far more knowledgeable of the talents than you or I could ever comprehend. I don’t understand it myself, but that mark he placed on your shoulder is more than just a reminder of the pain he inflicted upon you. It forms a connection.”

My brow wrinkles, and I comb a hand through my hair, massaging my head. “I feel the pain throbbing from time to time. It’s not just a reminder, it’s a phantom, a ghost that lingers inside me. But I’ve gotten used to it over the seasons.”

“That’s not what I mean, Stone. Have you ever done anything you couldn’t remember, or…or couldn’t control?”

I shake my head. “No. Never. I don’t think. But…would I know?” What is she saying? Does Harris have control over my actions because of this?

“It’s a bond. Between you and Harris. I just witnessed your shoulder heal within moments of being split open. Why do you think your body has never mended this scar? It is more than just a wound or an annoyance. I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow, it gives him control.”

I cock my head at her. “How do you know this?” I take a deep breath and breathe in her honeyed-lavender aroma. The severity of what she’s telling me loses its weight, and I suddenly feel at ease with all of it. I’m close enough to see her imperfections, and I adore them. A large mole under her right ear just behind her softly defined jawline. Freckles gently sprinkling her cheeks. A subtle scar just above her left brow. I want to feel the softness of her skin.

“You’ve entertained the idea of attending his academy, but why? I know it wasn’t my persuasion.” I beg to differ. It has been all her doing, and I can’t explain it. But I don’t open that door.

“Because I knew I could get closer to him,” I answer. “Because it is the only means to give Jay a life of freedom.”

“But did you ever truly intend on seeking revenge? Stone, I have only known you for a short time, but you seem to be more of a protector, not an aggressor.”

“The sight of him animates my emotions, but I suppose you’re right. There is something keeping me from acting. I don’t have the rage somebody ought to if their parents were murdered. What does this mean?” Is something wrong with me? Why don’t I lust for revenge?

“Stone, it means you don’t have full control. I don’t know the extent of it, but somehow, he has a grasp on either your emotions or quite possibly your actions. In some way or another, he is manipulating you, Stone. I know how you must feel.”

How could she possibly know how I’m feeling? She circles the table and takes a seat across from me. A warmth I didn’t realize was consuming me washes away with her retreat.

“I too had an encounter with the Taoiseach when I was younger. There was an incident in my youth. The incident in which I lost my father.