Amaskan's Blood by Raven Oak (the best e book reader .TXT) 📗

woman. She reminded Adelei of Min—what a bully she was. Adelei smiled at the memory, her mind falling into it with the steady lull of hoof falls.

One brutal day found Adelei skipping her way out of the stables after a riding lesson, her mind still buzzing with the joy of it. She’d been allowed to jump her horse in the Field. Not the training course, but the honest-to-Gods challenge jumps.

Snow on the ground left parts of the path slick, so she’d chosen her jumps carefully. Given the rare compliment by her teacher, the words rang in her ears as she skipped toward the bridge and tossed up snow with a booted toe. It wasn’t until she’d crossed the wooden planks over the river that the thump hit her square in the back.

She shed her winter cloak without much rush. A gift from her adopted father, the rare-white cloak was lined with fluffed rabbit fur. Snow would do little to harm it, assuming that’s what smacked her between the shoulder blades.

When she flipped the cloak around, the remains of a snowball stuck to the deer hide. Adelei brushed the snow away. Below the cold snow lay a scrap of parchment, balled up and soaked in ink. The moisture of the snow sent the ink cascading across the hide, marring the beautiful white cloak, and Adelei scanned the snowy field for the perpetrator.

Min. The girl rested comfortably on a tree branch a few feet away, her long legs dangling down from the branch. Her laughter rang across the snow. Young enough for tears to win out, Adelei trod over to the tree and brushed at the tears that dampened her cheeks.

“White. Yet another reminder that you aren’t Amaskan and never will be. No matter who your daddy is,” Min called out.

He said to work it out on my own, and so I will. She balled up her fingers into fists. Forget the words.

When she reached the trunk of the tree, Min’s long legs hung down just low enough for Adelei to reach. But only if she jumped. Adelei wrapped her arms around Min’s legs and went limp. The seventeen-year-old came tumbling down to land butt-first in the snow.

She didn’t give Min time to react. Adelei flew at the trainee, fists waving and feet flying. Most never found their target, but a few found purchase on Min—one or two across her beaky nose.

One heel to the face was all it took for Adelei to realize her mistake. Min retaliated, her heel knocking Adelei in the jaw. While she sprawled in the snow, Min punched her in the nose. Pain multiplied her tears, and blood cut through the snow. By the time the pain subsided and the blood stopped, Min was long gone and Adelei’s cloak with her.

The sun dipped well below the horizon when Adelei dragged herself home. Head down and shoulders slumped, she made an arrow-line straight for the wash room. Her nose throbbed, and her head spun. She touched a wet rag to her nostril and sucked in air through clenched teeth. The swelling sent stars before her vision, and the room swam.

The front door’s bell-chimes caught her off guard, and she dropped the rag into the water basin. His shadow crossed the wall first, and then his elegant frame filled the doorway.

“Where were you? Your lesson ended hours ago—” He stopped to take in the bloody rags and shirt, then he plucked a clean cloth from the shelf. Without speaking, he nursed her wounds with gentle hands. His silence scared Adelei more than Min, and finally, she opened her mouth to accuse her attacker.

Master Bredych pressed a finger to her lips. “Your nose is not broken. You’re lucky this time. I would not advise that you attack an Amaskan again—be it one in training or not. You may not live to regret it.”

“But she’s a trainee and—” The cry sounded childish even to her ears, and she winced.

“A trainee who’s had years of practice and learning that you have not. You’d best remember that the next time you see Trainee Min.”

“She took my cloak.” Adelei couldn’t stop the tears this time.

Her father waited for her to cry herself out, his embrace aware of her throbbing nose. Once her tears transitioned into the occasional hiccup, he released her. He captured her attention with all the seriousness and practice of one of her teachers, and she noticed the difference immediately. “Trainee Min has returned your cloak—” His upright hand silenced her before she could take more than a swift intake of air. “But it will not be returned to you until you are more deserving of such a gift. She’s apologized for her poor conduct and is serving her own punishment for her actions. Dealing with a problem does not always mean that one should resort to violence, a fact that you should know by now. You have seen us train, yes? What is the number one lesson we teach?”

“Violence is only one way to a resolution. Death is a permanent end, only needed for a permanent cause,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“I would not have wished this so soon, but it seems you have adopted more of my traits than I thought possible, including a disregard for the rules and a certain stubbornness. My intention has always been for you to learn as much as you could about the world and to choose your own path, but it seems you are destined to learn… other ways as well. Tomorrow, if you wish, you may petition for entrance into the Academy as a trainee.”

For a moment, she forgot to breathe. “B-but I’m ten. Will they even allow it?”

“The earlier one learns, the better. Not everyone has an opportunity such as this. Are you willing?”

“Yes.”

Her father grinned. “Remember though,” he cautioned, “you won’t learn everything overnight. You still have many, many years of training and study to do before taking up the arts of a Journeyman or even thinking of petitioning