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

It was wrong on every possible level. He didn't mean to do it, Delcan just made him so angry and...no, that wasn't a good excuse. There was no excuse, but he would fix his mistake promptly.

"How about," Sam said. "If you win, I will stand on top of the school and shout to the world that you have bested me and I bow to your greatness. And if you win, you have to do the same. No deal on trading crews."

"Hmm."

"And I'll scrub your dorm room once a week."

"With a horse brush."

"Yes, fine. But no crew trades."

Delcan smiled. It looked real. He grasped Sam's hand and pumped it twice. "Deal," he said.

22

That night, the four of them snuck out of the dormitories with their practice swords. It wasn’t easy slipping past the gaggle of older students prowling about, but it was…fun. He didn’t know why slipping out to go swing sticks in the forest was so exciting, but it was. Sam almost forgot what fun felt like.

It felt good to forget about the day. Sam had been foolish to agree to enter the tourney just because Delcan goaded him into it. But now he couldn't back out.

Rosin assured him, however, that with her training, he might be able to actually beat that arrogant snob. It helped greatly when both Drina and Mattie agreed to be his sparring partners as well. He’d need them for warmups before he faced Rosin.

They walked deep into the forest until they came upon a small clearing. While Sam and Mattie stretched, Drina and Rosin rolled a felled trunk to sit on.

Mattie was no swordswoman but she had plenty of practice with sticks and staves, so Sam’s warmup quickly turned into a legitimate effort on his part to not get wacked. He didn’t succeed. Drina took him on next, and she was not a fencing master either, but she easily got under his guard and knocked the wind out of him several times. By the time his ‘warm up’ was done, he already had a knot on his head and a few new bruises for his trouble.

He and Rosin squared off, and just like earlier, she beat him quite a few times within the first thirty minutes. By the forty-five-minute mark, he was dripping with sweat and his hands were on his knees as he caught his breath.

“You're getting better,” Rosin said. He managed to snap upright just in time to block her overhead swing.

Wow. That felt good.

Sam’s sword held Rosin’s captive high in the air and he grinned at her between the cage of their arms. Rosin was smiling too, and there was something distinctly proud about it. A bolt of joy thundered through his blood and he lurched forward, capturing her lips. It was a chaste kiss, but Rosin squeaked and was distracted enough that when Sam disarmed her, the wooden sword went flying from her hands with ease.

“You won!” Drina shot to her feet and clapped excitedly.

“I did, didn’t I?” Sam slicked his hair back and his smile got measurably wider when he caught Rosin touching her lips with a little, secret grin. She was so damn precious. Strangely enough, the sword fighting made her that much more adorable.

“I just need to get better faster. Can you imagine what would happen if Delcan actually won and I had to hold up my side of the bet?” He laughed and shook his head, “Nobody would ever let me live that one down. I'd spend the next five years as ‘the boy who bowed.’”

“Maybe…you need a little more incentive,” Mattie said from her perch on the log. “How about Drina goes up against you again, and whoever loses has to fight naked the next round.”

Sam groaned. Drina’s face lit up. She always assumed she would win, so that wasn't a surprise. Well, not this time. He wanted to see her swinging a stick without a stitch of clothes like a southern barbarian.

It wasn’t impossible to beat her. He just beat Rosin, after all, and unlike Rosin, Sam was certain Drina hadn't practiced under any sort of master fencer. He'd seen her fight with her knives and from what he could tell, she was damn good, but knives weren’t swords…or…sticks, in this case.

“Rules?” Drina called, keeping her eyes glued on Sam.

“None!” Rosin called back.

“Wait—” Sam looked over at the other girls but it was too late. Drina withdrew two shiny daggers from her boots; he didn’t even know she was armed. Then again, it was Drina, so why wouldn’t she be? She sure was opportunistic.

Unlike his and Mattie’s knives, hers looked new, sharpened, cared for. They were longer than her hands but they had no grips. No wood or bone or even soft wrap; they were both steel all the way through.

They probably slipped in her hands a lot when she got sweaty. Maybe that’s how he’d win—make her sweat. And then she'd have to fight him naked, which he had been wanting to see since he first laid eyes on her.

The thought bolstered him.

Drina whistled some unknown tune under her breath and twirled one of her daggers in the air, catching it from blade to hilt with every turn.

“Whenever you're ready,” Sam said nonchalantly.

If he knew Drina, she wasn't going to be patient and wait to strike. He was right. Drina sprinted at him, one dagger in each hand, aimed down as if she meant to stab him in a downward motion. He lifted his practice sword and swiped for her belly when she was close enough.

But she dodged, tapping his shoulder with one of her knives. She giggled as she danced away.

“That's one!” Mattie called. “Whoever gets five taps first wins.”

Sam didn't wait to make his next move. He swiped his training sword at her feet, but she just jumped over it, wrapped her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek before tapping his temple and darting away. Quick little demon, that one.

Drina turned her back on him, but not before throwing him