Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (little readers .txt) 📕

he sauntered toward their group. His disregard of the first girl was indicative of either arrogance or a flighty mind. Given that the school only accepted the keenest minds, the former was more likely. That was further evidenced by his puffed chest, straight shoulders, and high chin. Arrogant and completely unconcerned with failure. The brash grin taking up half his face made him look eager, though the slow speed of his walk indicated that he was attempting to look smooth and unrushed. So, he was self-centered enough to ignore the first girl without considering her feelings and confident enough in his looks that despite being very eager to talk to Drina, he wasn't worried about rejection.

Sam imagined what he might do if the blonde were his mark for a theft. The man would most likely be found in his chambers on any given night regardless of who he bedded. Sam had seen it time and again when he was scouting for a lead—an arrogant man like the blonde didn't join with women outside of his own chambers for fear of vulnerability. If there was a slim chance of humiliation—a peeping servant, an overheard statement, something 'inferior' between his legs—then he would preserve his ego and insist on bedding down in his apartments, where everything was safe and familiar. Sam would pick a feast week during summer, preferably the second day when the blonde wasn't yet exhausted from a week of stuffing his face and dancing into the morning. He would hide in the man's room for an hour and a half after he fell asleep to ensure that the blonde was in the middle of a dream and harder to wake up. Servants never entered a room when the master was asleep, so it would be Sam's best chance to steal his objective and get away rather easily.

Sam smiled to himself, half smug at his quick assessment and half amused at his need to win.

Drina may be good at herding men around with her looks, but Sam was good at getting information by watching the exchange. The better spy wasn't the one who was easily able to work information out of marks in the field. The better spy was the one who was able to gather the same information without entering the field to begin with.

When the blonde finally got to the couch, Drina leaned on the arm.

"Hello,” he said, looming over her. His smile dimmed for the smallest moment, so quick that Sam could have imagined it. 'Hello' probably wasn't the best lead-in, and the blonde seemed to realize it only after he opened his mouth.

"Hello, yourself." Drina cocked her leg up and left a small space between herself and Nubia. The swell of her hips curving into her waist was almost artful, like a masterful painting.

"I couldn't help but notice you looked a little bored over there," she said.

His grin brightened again, his earlier blunder forgotten. "I suppose I was."

If he was trying to sound slick, it wasn't working. Banal would be a more apt descriptor.

"Well, in that case, come sit with me." She flicked her eyes to the empty spot next to her and his grin got impossibly bigger. In seconds, the blonde rounded the couch to plant himself between the two girls, stretching his arms along the head of the seating. Drina shifted until she was practically curled under his arm.

And then she looked at the blonde in the exact same way she looked at Sam. The blonde guy met her salacious expression with hooded eyes. Sam had to hand it to Drina, she was pretty damn good. He could almost feel the magnetic attraction between them, and yet he knew that it wasn't really there to begin with.

If Drina didn't graduate from the Academy, she would find a very promising career in theater.

"You look so familiar," she said quietly. "Have we met before?"

"I'm sure we haven't. I would have remembered if we did."

"Oh, aren't you a sweet thing." She nudged him playfully with a dainty push to his shoulder. "Maybe I've seen you in the palace . . . or maybe you're a tourney champion? I swear I've seen your face before . . ."

"The palace?" Well, he'd handed her his standing on a silver platter. One point for Drina. The blonde frowned, probably trying to reconcile how he hadn't seen her before if she'd been to the palace. If Sam were him, he'd think that meant Drina was either a lesser noble or a servant, which meant that she would be easy to coerce if he needed to. That was assuming that the blonde wasn't above threats and blackmail. By the look of him, Sam doubted he was.

The man's expression didn't change, so maybe he didn't come to that conclusion at all. He said, "Maybe you have seen me, then. I apologize, I was likely busy at the time. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings, I would have introduced myself, of that I can assure you."

"Oh, I'm sure you were very busy. But you're not busy now . . ." She leaned in a little closer. "So maybe you'll have time to give me a name to go along with that pretty face."

"Delcan Greyman," he said.

"Oh my, you're Delcan? I most definitely know of you by your . . ." she flicked her eyes to his lap, then back to his face, "substantial reputation, at the very least."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Quite. One of the girls at the palace, I won't mention who, had a lot to say about your . . . skills."

"Do tell."

"Now, now," she tsked, "a lady never betrays the trust of other ladies. However, I can tell you that she mentioned your prowess in the coliseum. Is it true that you beat a man twice your size?"

"Well, I wouldn't say twice my size. Perhaps more like three."

"Three. Spirits, you're already so considerable. I can't imagine how strong he must have been. How did you do it?"

Declan's eyebrows bounced and he tilted