Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) by Jonathan Michael (best ebook for manga txt) 📕

know what you are, Elder.” He speaks quietly so only I can hear. “Your secret is safe. But you must learn to control it. You must not let anyone else know, or it will be your end. Do you understand?”

I nod. Thankfully, he’s not blackmailing me like Captain Crowbill intended to.

“C’mon,” he speaks louder. “Healing or no healing, let’s get your face cleaned up before people start spreading rumors I have my students engaging in cat fights. I can’t have my reputation impaired like that.” Master Stormwood points in the direction of Grimry Perzkeeler and Jareth Boreskin, the two fellows the master had me fight before I was enrolled in his course. “You two. Make sure he gets to the infirmary. Madam Platina will take it from there, so get your asses back here immediately. No detours.”

“Yes, sir,” both students reply in unison.

The infirmary is a short distance from the combat arena. About midway between the flight chamber and the combat arena more precisely—the two facilities most likely to incur damage on the students. A long enough walk to suffer two of the Academy’s most intolerable personalities.

And it begins as soon as we’re out of Master Stormwood’s earshot.

“So, Elder…” Grimry speaks up first. “…how’re the daily ass whoopings coming along? The Master has taken a liking to you.”

“Yeah, a liking as a combat dummy,” Jareth adds.

I just shake my head and keep my head down.

“You’re a Healer, so he probably has it in him to test your limits. He drew blood today. I’d wager he removes a limb tomorrow.  Can you regrow a limb, Healer?” Grimry steps in front of me and jabs a finger into my chest. “Huh, can you?”

I keep my lips locked tight and let him run his mouth. Aside from my regretful laughter during our first encounter, I haven’t done anything to this asshole to deserve this. But I know it won’t do me any good to feed whatever grudge he’s holding on to. I drop my vision to my feet and push past him, bumping his shoulder ever so slightly.

“What’s your problem?”

“He’s an arrogant asshole from a hoity-toity family,” Jareth interjects. “That’s what his problem is. I heard he’s got some connection to The First Four. And he thinks he’s above this.”

Grimry wrinkles his brow at Jareth then looks me up and down. “If that’s so, you’ve got it wrong, Elder. High connections get you into this place, sure. But we all have to endure the same education.”

“And what education is that?” I raise my voice at him. “Are you going to pummel me? Make me feel at home with a good beating? Get on with it then. I’ve endured worse.” I push away from the asshole when he doesn’t say anything and walk in a different direction than the infirmary. Without a destination in mind.

“Hey!” he calls after me.

Next thing I know, I’m falling forward to the cobblestone path. The pain sweeps away before I recognize it. With Master Stormwood’s training—pummeling, who am I kidding—the pain is becoming more and more extraneous.

Grimry looms over me and shoves my face into the stone. All his weight is on top of me. And he has a lot of it. He leans in, his hot breath warming my ear. “I know what you are, Elder. I felt it when you tried to kill me in the arena. You went straight for my throat. As soon as I can prove it, you’re as good as dead. The Taoiseach will have you hanging from the rafters in the Crimson Plaza. Grafts don’t belong in our society. They don’t belong in the Academy.”

He grabs my hair, jerks my head up, and slams it into the stone. Again. And again. Then he spits in my face. But it’s hardly detectable amidst the warm blood blanketing it. Then a sharp pain strikes at my lower leg. Grimry has stomped on it.

“Get up. Looks like you’re in need of the infirmary.”

He pulls me to my feet, but I’m unable to put weight on my leg. Jareth catches me and holds me upright. Grimry takes the other half of my weight by draping my arm over his shoulders. There’s not much I can do with the state they’ve put me in, so I don’t resist.

Why did he call me a Graft? I’m not a Graft. I’m a Lahyf—a Healer. I thought he took offense to me snickering at him that first day.  And that’s what this was all about. A Graft? That’s nonsense.

Both peers keep the japes flowing the entire way to the infirmary, just as I suspected they would. I don’t think anything would please me more at this moment then to knock out all their teeth. But my leg is broken. My face is a bloody mess. There’s nothing I can do about it.

Instead, I admire a group of students playing a casual game of Ironball off in the distance. Without a Game Master, the rules are limiting, and play is a touch more friendly, but intense all the same. Only those trained in the Seasonal Sciences can play, as the primary focus is to utilize your talents to keep the ironball away from the other team. It’s brutal at the expert level. There was a day when I dreamed of being part of that. I remember when my father would bring me to matches when we visited the capital. Not anymore. I’d rather be as far away from this place as I can. What am I doing here? How did I let Astor talk me into this? I should be out searching for Jay.

Grimry and Jareth carry me into the infirmary and drop me on the waiting room floor. Jareth rings the bell hanging above the front desk.

“There’ll be a day we settle our differences,” I mutter through swollen lips.

Grimry bends over me. “Yes. There