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

minor noble family. Not really a lady. I mean, technically, but not really...if that makes sense? We're not a part of court anymore. We never really were to begin with, but my father had some bad luck with his tenants and we've been out of sorts for a few years. But...even without our full income, my family's always been able to afford fencing lessons. I never really wanted to do them, but my father told me he wanted all of his children to know how to defend themselves. So..." She shrugged.

Sam knew she was nobility or at least middle class because of her propriety. But to have it confirmed was a different thing. Considering this was the first time he was hearing of it, he could assume she didn't want anybody to know in the first place. Maybe out of embarrassment or shame for her father's situation. Noble families in Varin took great pride in being noble. They owed it to their history and heritage; the ancestors of the noble houses—great warriors, magicians, geniuses, and commanders—were the leaders who founded Varin to begin with. And although the people who descended from them weren't the ones who actually did the deeds, being related by blood was apparently just as good. Who was Rosin descended from?

"I'm sorry to hear your family's down on their luck," Sam said, picking up his sword and breaking the timeout.

She gave him a solemn little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's lucky they have you as their daughter, Rosin. I'm sure that with your help, they'll be back on top in no time.

Rosin blushed, and he smiled a wicked smile before he lifted his sword and brought it down. He intended to take her off balance while she was distracted, but Rosin was quick and even as she smiled, she parried him.

For the next thirty minutes, Rosin kept beating Sam down into the sand. She'd gotten him good a few times with the hilt of her sword; he had welts and bruises all over his arms and his chest. After Hilda called time, Rosin took one look at her handiwork and flew into a fit of concern. She pressed her hands to her face and apologized profusely, asking him if he was alright and worrying over him like he was a baby.

Sam assured her everything was fine. She did a great job, and it was honestly an honor to battle her and see her skills. Now their crew was almost whole on the combat side of things. They had Drina and her daggers at close range, Sam and his long-range shadows. Mattie with her mid-range staff, and now Rosin with a mid-range blade. Now all they needed was a marksman.

Once Hilda excused them from class, Sam tried to tell the girls what he'd seen last night, what Apelles had said. But everywhere he turned, there were eyes on him. The fourth and fifth years still patrolled the halls, switching out every hour or so in order to keep taking classes as well. They were ever-watching, even in the afternoon light.

Sam intended to tell the girls during lunch instead.

Just as they got to the mess hall. Delcan's crew shot in front of the doorway, blocking Sam and his crew from getting inside.

"Hey." Delcan was smiling, warm and kind. It was completely fake and utterly suspicious. When the semester first started Sam thought he was a nuisance, but at this point, just seeing Delcan's face made him angry.

"So..." Delcan said, inspecting his perfectly sculpted nails. "I don't know if you've heard, but there's a sword tournament coming up. It's just for first years, actually. They aren't going to make the announcement until next week, but Hilda told me about it, of course. And obviously, I'm going to join. What about you, Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to move past the group, but Delcan's long arm shot out, blocking the door. Sam could duck under his arm, but that felt too much like running away.

"Come on, Sam," Delcan said with his fake grin. "I watched you and...what's her name, again? Rose? Anyway, you're getting okay with the sword. Quite impressive, really. I bet if you entered the tournament, you could win...until you faced me, that is. So, what do you say to settling our differences once and for all?

This was ridiculous. Sam was trying to catch a spy. He didn’t have time for whatever Delcan was up to.

"How about you, Drina?" Delcan flashed a grin at her, and it didn't look so fake anymore. "I hear you like to wager. How about you enter the tourney, try to get to the final round, and face off with me? And whoever wins, well..."

He didn't have to say anything else. The suggestive smile on his face was all Sam needed to understand exactly what he meant. His knuckles ached with the force of his clenched fist. He couldn't get another demerit, he couldn't punch Delcan. The worm was just trying to get a rise out of him, that was all.

Sam stuffed his temper down and pushed Delcan's arm from the door. The momentum jostled Delcan until he faced Sam rather than the girls.

"Alright," Sam said with a mean sneer. "I'll enter the tournament, and then when I kick your ass, you can leave me and my crew alone."

Delcan tilted his head, a look of serious consideration on his face. After a moment, he sneered back at Sam. "Fine. And when you lose, your entire crew has to join mine."

Sam didn't even think about it. He just grabbed Delcan's hand and shook it with more force than necessary. "Deal."

Shit, wait.

"Did you hear that, ladies?" Delcan shoved Sam's hand away like it was a piece of filth. "When I win, you'll have a brand-new crew to work with. Sam and his roommate can play together for the rest of the semester."

The girls didn't look happy, but instead of aiming their scowls at Delcan, they were pointed at Sam. He didn't blame them, that was possibly the most disrespectful thing he'd ever done to anybody. Sam didn't trade people.