Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) by Jonathan Michael (ereader that reads to you txt) 📗

 Dammit! I don’t need to be giving this young man false hope that I have a soft, gleeful side. Because I don’t. I need him believing I’ll bite his head off before we’re done. I retort with sealed lips and an eye, saying just that.

His grin withers.

“You can mount with me.”

“Excuse me?”

A few curses slip off my tongue at his immaturity before I repeat myself. “You can mount up with me.”

His response is delayed. Cogs are slipping and bouncing all over inside that skull of his. It makes him hard to read. Most people have their intent tattooed on their face, or sleeve at minimum, but not Stone. I perceive it as innocence, but maybe it’s deception mastered. I must stay on guard around this young man.

“Let me gather a few items for the journey, then we can be on our way.”

He returns with dual katanas strapped to his back and a leather satchel hanging across his body. It looks homemade. “Sorry for the wait. I don’t travel often and didn’t want to go unprepared.”

With his faded tunic, tattered trousers, shoeless feet, and homemade satchel, he looks like a vagrant. Those blades don’t belong. The shining silver pommels, each with sapphires fixed into the bottom. Either he’s too witless to have realized the gold ribs he could receive in exchange for them or…they’re priceless—a family heirloom.

Helios wanders next to Stone and stands proud. The image of a young vagrant with priceless blades on his back and a regal beast by his side states Stone either stole another man’s prized possessions or his own prestigious life was stolen from him. And this is all that remains.

“Shall we?” I reply flatly.

We step out of the yurt, and Stone nervously backtracks. He stumbles into me. I catch him under the arms and help him to his feet. Maybe I should have mentioned Persia before stepping outside. She can be intimidating at first sight and stands not more than ten paces away. An aggressive snarl sounds from behind us as Helios follows us outside.

“Susy’s four hells! It’s a…a…”

His dumbfounded expression tells me he’s never seen one before. Not many have.

“A panther,” I finish for him.

“Yeah… A black panther… Large enough to mount! I had no idea they could grow to such a size. Is this your regular mount? It’s larger than Helios. Its back stands as tall as me.” He measures her with the flat of his hand floating from the top of his head out toward Persia.

She is a beautiful beast. Every bit of her fur is as dark as a starless night, with bright yellow eyes radiating like twin suns amid the night sky. She remains calm and disciplined even with Helios’s threatening approach.

“Impressive,” Stone mutters.

“She’s one of a kind. From the moment her mother birthed her, I have raised her, trained her, disciplined her, and assisted her growth in all essences of the word. Our Instincts are aligned. She and I are the same.”

Helios stands tall. So does his mane. His growling doesn’t subside as he’s threatened by Persia’s dominant presence. I focus my gaze on the cat and step in front of him, making sure he sees me. His Instincts are lacking, but the tiger abides my command anyhow. His mane settles, and his aggression recedes.

“Helios, hold,” Stone commands.

Best to let him think he has his cat under control.

“Relax. This is not an enemy. Right?” Stone’s brow raises.

There is a cold silence before I respond. “Elder. Helios. This is Persia, our transportation north to Greenport. Please don’t upset her. She can and will extinguish anything she believes to be a threat. Like I said, we are the same.”

Stone attempts to mount the cat, not without a struggle.

As charming as it is, I lose patience for his incompetence and offer advice on how to mount her. It doesn’t help. With another hit to his masculinity, I couple my fingers together and bend at the knees to give him a step and a shove in the upward direction. His bare foot plants into my coupled hands and I push with my thighs, hoisting him high enough to wrap a leg over.

I tug on my riding cloak draped over Persia’s back to free it from beneath Stone. I use it to brush the dirt from my hands before fastening it around my neck. The thing about a riding cloak, it works for all weather. It will shield you from the sky’s tears, frozen or not. It will insulate you from a chilled wind, and it’ll stave off the heat of a blistering summer day.

“Marvelous cloak,” Stone compliments.

He has that nervous tongue about him still. Can’t stop trying to acquaint and make friends.

“The deep red at your shoulders fading into the black of Persia at your ankles—I’ve never seen fabric quite like it before. And you wear the sigil of the Sprhowt proudly.” He gestures toward the black iron clasp at my neck.

It’s in the shape of a solar body caressed by a semi-circle. The sun representing summer, and the semi-circle representing the halfway mark in the cycle of seasons. A simple emblem with simple meaning.

“It acts as more of a collar, really.” I’m forced to hide within the shadows, and this is evidence of that restraint. He wouldn’t understand my meaning. It plainly shows on his face. I unstrap the blade from my back, slipping it from beneath my cloak, and draw my hood. “I see you don your heritage proudly as well.” I tap the pommel of my blade, alluding to the swords on his back.

Stone looks over his shoulder at the teardrop-shaped sapphires embedded in the pommels. “Oh, yeah. A gift from my father. A family heirloom passed from generation to generation, Lahyf to Lahyf. It’s all I have left of him.”

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