Spycraft Academy B. Miles (new ebook reader txt) 📖

back of Delcan's tall blonde head was moving away, four of his crew members walking and laughing with him.

Sam clenched his teeth and bent to pick up the spilled dishes. It was good they were wooden, at least. Delcan must have some form of short-term memory loss if he didn't remember what Sam had done only yesterday. He cut the blonde off from his power source and was able to replicate a polarity of his talent. Sure, Sam still didn't know what happened or how, but he had done it, and if he were Delcan, he would be wary of somebody who could do that.

As he reached for a spilled dish, his hand ran into somebody else's. He looked up and met a pair of dark brown eyes. A woman. No, the third girl in Delcan's group, the one that hadn't been there when Sam and Mattie got cornered. He didn't say anything, he was far too caught up in why she was helping him.

"Prin!" Somebody called.

She startled and handed the plate to Sam, muttering a quick apology before dashing off.

Sam watched her trot to Delcan's group. The blonde man was scowling at her and instead of ducking her head, she breezed right past him with her chin held high as if he weren't there at all. Delcan's scowl deepened, but he didn't retaliate from the blatant show of disregard.

That girl, Prin, helped Sam pick up a dish, she apologized, and she walked apart from her crew. Delcan clearly didn't want to alienate her by tossing her back in line, which meant she was valuable enough to the crew that she had special leeway despite Delcan's irritation at her actions.

Sam didn't know whether to be suspicious of her or impressed by her brazen actions. Delcan caught Sam staring at the back of Prin's head and the blonde gave Sam a dirty scowl before abruptly spinning on his heel and marching away, his simpering sycophants trailing after him.

12

"And don't forget to put the stoppers on the vials when you're done. Wouldn't want anybody passing out from the fumes!"

Franklin, the poisons master, chuckled as if he'd told himself a private joke. He dove into the pockets of his billowing black robe and pulled out a red-tinted vial, holding it up for the class to see. "Now, whoever brews the most accurate poison in the timeliest manner will win this little beauty. Don't get too excited, the administration would have a fit if I willy-nilly gave toxic brews to first years. This is an anti-toxin. It combats the very poison you'll be working on today. Quite useful!"

He pocketed the vial and smiled at the class. "Now, everybody turn to page seventy. You may begin."

Sam jumped right into the assignment. He liked poisons class, and he was surprisingly good at it. Any work he had to do with his hands was much easier than the work that called for patience, such as languages, mathematics, meditation, and the like. The instructors for the more hands-on courses also seemed to be genuinely more pleasant than the others. Like Franklin, who was easily Sam's favorite teacher.

He measured out a teaspoon of crushed elderberry and poured it into the mortar, checking his textbook to make sure he'd read the next step correctly. Things could go very wrong if one didn't follow a poison recipe exactly. Two shakes of a solution rather than three could mean the difference between temporary paralysis and permanent blindness.

Rosin was sitting to his left, Mattie to his right, and Drina next to Mattie at their long lab table. Ever since Drina's challenge at breakfast, Sam decided to make a point to outdo her in everything. It seemed she was of the same mind, because she made sure her book blocked his view of what she was doing and she kept throwing furtive glances and suggestive little smiles his way.

Sam was feeling bold about his chances against her, and when he focused on the task at hand, the situation with the thief melted away. He measured out his base ingredients, singing a tune in his head; the one that Mattie kept humming to herself. His hands and his mind got lost in the work.

Minutes later, after he drained the crushed hemlock into his modulated cylinder, Rosin cleared her throat and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"So, I hate to be nosey—"

"But you're going to be," he said with a half-smile. Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack before she ducked her head.

"Sorry." She sounded truly contrite, and it took Sam all of a second to realize that she didn't catch on to his jibe like he expected.

"No, no, it was a joke."

When she still looked startled and confused, Sam frowned. Did she not know what a joke was or something?

"You know..." He put his mortar down, "poking fun?"

"I know the definition of a joke, I just...what's the punchline?"

What an odd girl. Sam turned his body fully to her and studied her face, looking for a sign that she was messing with him.

"I was just teasing you, Rosin. What's on your mind?"

"Oh!" She laughed loudly and drew the eyes of the people working at the table in front of them, then she promptly shut her mouth and pulled her long silvery hair over her shoulder, casting her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit...out of practice. With people, I mean. Sometimes it's like I've forgotten the basic rules of communication."

"That's okay. You didn’t offend me or anything, if that's what you're worried about." And she did look quite worried. Sam wanted to ask her if she lived in the middle of nowhere or something, but he didn't want to insult or embarrass her further. They'd get to know each other more soon, and then the tales of their past would eventually surface in an organic way.

Sam liked her, she was whip-smart and easy going. He would say she was beautiful as well, but considering he had Mattie and,