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

big brown eyes. She always smiled at him and the other snot-nosed urchins, always sang when she hung the wash, always behaved as if nothing in the world could go wrong.

The authorities came for her right after the summer blessing festival. Some of the adults whispered that she'd gone there while her mother was working. Nobody knew if she would come back. But she did come back.

Fiera had stumbled through the mud streets before dawn wearing nothing but a thin frock. All of her pretty, straight teeth had been taken from her mouth. Her head had been shaved. The bright shimmer of her tanned skin had been taken and replaced by grey-blue flesh that wrinkled whenever she moved.

Harvested, they whispered. Some noble spellcaster had taken the youth from her skin, probably to feed it into their own, then they took her teeth, her hair, and her kidney while they were at it, probably sold on the forbidden market. All because somebody had seen her face, seen her mud shoes, and knew that all it took was an accusation of thievery to get her in a room with no questions asked. The authorities would turn a blind eye and ignore any counteraccusations. If Fiera's mother had caused them any trouble, they would have just dragged her off as well.

Fiera didn't make it past the flu season, and neither did her mother.

When people knew you were from the quell sector, you were as good as dead.

Sam was laying on his bed, reading a strategy book from the recreation room. They had all sorts of valuable tomes lying about, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity to learn something new pass him by, even if they were about to undock.

A set of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall toward his cabin. He stopped reading, his stomach rolling as it usually did whenever he heard somebody coming toward the room.

He could see the girl with the 'ruined' shoes in his mind's eye, four mute sailors trailing after her. She'd order the door open, accuse Sam and Mattie of throwing her shoes overboard, then arrange an accident so that the two of them ended up in the bottom of the sea. And nobody would do anything because nobody would miss two little nothings, nobody wanted flea-bitten thieves to spread disease throughout the ship, and nobody wanted to raise the ire of a wealthy girl who could ruin lives with a snap of her fingers.

The footsteps moved past his door without slowing, as they always did. His stomach settled.

He couldn't wait to get off this damned boat. Half an hour at most, he had to remind himself of that. The closer they got to getting off, the harder his heart pounded.

"Okay," Mattie brushed down her baggy green shirt and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "How's this?"

She held her arms out and Sam gave her a slow once-over. He was fluent in Mattie-speak, so he knew that she was really asking, 'do I look like a middener?'

You look beautiful, he wanted to say. Instead, he gave her a lopsided smile. "You almost look as good as I do."

He forced himself to look away so that his eyes didn't linger on her. He'd been staring at her enough as it was. He'd never seen her so clean before, every speck of dirt and mud and grime scrubbed away like it had never been there to begin with. He didn't know her hair was so red. He’d never seen the little blushes of pink on the apples of her cheeks, he'd never known that she smelled like ozone and sea wind.

She rolled her eyes and turned toward her bed, rifling around in her closed pack while she spoke. "Considering how hideous you are, that doesn't make me feel very confident."

"Pft."

Another set of heavy feet came down the hall. Sam held his breath until they passed his cabin door.

Thirty minutes, he reminded himself again. Thirty, that's all. Once they got off the boat, nothing would ever be the same.

Sam buried his jitters underneath a roguish grin and an easy tone. He put his book down and stood up from the bed, grabbing the low beam that split the middle of the ceiling. He leaned all of his weight against it.

"It's okay, you can admit it," he said. "I clean up very well."

Mattie glanced over her shoulder, a wry smile pulling at her lips as she gave him a once-over in kind. Her smile dropped quickly and by the time her eyes met his, her expression had changed completely. It lasted only a moment, barely a breath, but there was something naked and hungry in the way she looked at him.

When she turned away, Sam realized that he'd been staring right back at her, a little lost in the look she’d given him.

What was that?

Had he imagined it? He’d never gotten a look like that from anybody, much less Mattie. He opened his mouth, he didn't know what he was planning on saying, but then there was a knock at the door and the spell was broken.

"Your royal highnesses must forgive me for interrupting what is surely an incredibly important matter, but the rest of us lowly peasants are gathered in full on the dock and have been awaiting your royal presence for neigh on fifteen minutes."

"Shit," Mattie hissed. Sam stared at her back, still trying to find the words to ask her why she had looked at him like that...to ask her to do it again.

Mattie hefted her pack over her shoulder and it knocked into his chest, pushing him out of his head and into the present.

He shook his head and moved to grab his things off the bed. It was probably just his brain playing tricks on him after being cooped up in one room for almost a week with nothing to stare at but Mattie. He'd counted the freckles along the bridge of her nose two days before. There were fourteen. He