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

Sam's eyes tracked her movements as she moved deeper into the forest. She walked as if she knew exactly where she was going.

Sam wrapped his shadows around him and followed her.

There was no clear path where she walked, so he had no idea how she knew exactly where she was going but she seemed to regardless. She walked, and walked, and walked, and he followed her even though his eyes were hot and heavy, his brain trying to talk him into taking a short break. Just to rest his eyes, that's all. June suddenly stopped and Sam pulled up short. She looked left, right, behind her, then slowly turned her head forward before kneeling down. Her little hand gripped onto a rock. It was neither big nor small, nor did it look unique in any way.

She lifted it, reached out with her other hand, and then lifted something to her face. Then whatever she was holding disappeared into the cavern of her mouth. What in the hells?

June put the rock back down and walked the way she came, breezing past Sam's shadowed form. Whatever she was up to, it had to do with Delcan, surely. Maybe not, though. Sam couldn't think of a single thing that Delcan would need that had anything to do with eating from the ground. Maybe she was picking mushrooms from the forest and eating them before going to bed? That seemed extreme. Why would she need to do that?

Sam had never seen June out alone. It was almost uncomfortable to see her without Delcan. The blonde had to have ordered June to do this. Whatever 'this' was.

He followed her through the forest and back toward the school, through one of the many open alleyways, and then into an empty corridor. She knew the guard rotation, then. She made her way to the first-year dormitories and when she slipped inside of the building, Sam simply stood in the shadows, trying to piece everything together. Nothing made sense, though. The only plausible thing Sam could think was that she ate a mushroom with the intention of intoxicating herself.

But hallucinogenic effects would last well past the first class tomorrow. He was pretty sure, anyway. The addicts on Hookman's Square were often drunk on their poisons for half a day. It was only seven hours until dawn.

The question was: Should he look closer or just keep his nose out of it?

21

The next day, early in the morning, he walked to Hilda's class with the girls. He didn't join in their conversation, his mind far away. On June, what Apelles had said, all of it. Sam hadn't told his crew anything yet; he could barely wrap his own head around it.

He knew something needed to be done about June, but what?

Hilda greeted them as she usually did every morning, calling them all heathens before declaring the morning a glorious one to draw blood. The only person who had gotten their name back in class so far was Delcan. Sam was determined to earn his as well. He wondered what Hilda would think if she knew Delcan was coercing girls into eating things in the forest. The blonde was obviously Hilda's favorite and he relished in her attention. Brown-nose.

Hilda clapped her hands and shouted, "You will be fighting with swords some more, but this time, I'm going to put you with a partner you like instead of somebody you want to kill. The purpose of this exercise is to form closer bonds with your battle party...no, your... teammates. Yes, teammates. Hurting each other is just as important as caring for each other! So get your scrawny asses to the roster and find your partner."

At least with the sleep Apelles allotted Sam the night before, he felt rested and ready to try his hand at sword work again. He got in line with everybody else and when he made it to the front, he saw his name next to Rosin's of all people. Strange. He liked her, of course, but Rosin wasn't exactly his height, build, or weight. If he were in a sword fight with her, he'd knock her down too easily despite being awful with the long blade. He would probably hurt her.

Then again, when has Hilda ever been worried about somebody getting hurt? It seemed like most of the time she actively sought it.

Sam picked his sword from the rack, the one with his name on it that was apparently going to be his for the rest of the semester, if not his entire time in the Academy. He picked a spot in the sandy arena and waited for Rosin. She clutched her sword to her chest like it was a stuffed animal and gave him a slow smile when she scampered to him.

"So," Sam said, swinging his sword around. "Ready to lose?"

She gave him a big smile he couldn't quite read, unsheathed her sword, and they began. Ten minutes later, Sam was regretting ever doubting Rosin. Small and delicate and shy as she was, she'd disarmed him three times and cut him twice. Apparently, Rosin knew how to sword fight. He would have never guessed. She didn't seem the sort to swipe at a bug much less slash somebody.

"So I've got to ask." Sam was already working up a sweat. He lifted his sword and blocked her attack. The blades clanged off of each other. Rosin's expression was flat and concentrated like she was tuning him out, but he knew she was listening. She was always listening and unlike him, good at multitasking. "Where did you learn to fight? No offense or anything, but..."

He took two steps back and held his hand up for a quick timeout. "But you don't seem like the type to want to sword fight."

Rosin stuck the tip of her sword into the sand and gave him a happy smile. "It was never an option for me. Every noble family puts their children through sword fighting—girls and boys.

"Ah. See, I had suspicions that you were a lady. Glad to know I've got good instincts."

"Well," she twirled her hair in her hands. "I'm from a