Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (sites to read books for free .txt) 📗

exciting, today was the day where he was supposed to walk right up to Mattie, kiss her until she melted, and ask her if she wanted to keep playing her game or come into his room.

Instead, he was in the damned infirmary.

That was the extent of his first thoughts upon waking from his second nap of the day. His second round of thoughts jumped to why he had to have two naps. He didn't know what came over him in the alley, he didn't know what he did, and he definitely didn't know how he could do it again.

He had cut Delcan off from his power origin—the heat and light of the sun, and he took what little the blonde had left before crafting it into his own. He had stolen, no, imitated the antithesis of somebody's power.

Sam had never known another shadow caller, had never even heard of one. That wasn't so strange, talents were as varied as faces, and even those who had 'common' talents would be hard pressed to find their fellows in a crowded tavern.

Still, there had to be something on shadow wielding in the library. He hadn't been to the expansive room yet, mostly because he was so damn tired from class, but now he had a burning desire to walk right out of the sick room and go find answers.

The stinging pain in his shoulder reminded him it could wait until tomorrow at the least.

Sam sat up in the narrow bed, rested his hands across his bare stomach, and just looked around. The room was wide and tall, the same grey brick as the rest of the Academy. The beds were neatly made on thin iron frames, some separated by curtains, some not. Across the room was a long counter and cabinets upon cabinets of tools and medicine.

There was nothing else in the room, and nobody.

He stared down at his pale stomach and his eyebrows quirked. He couldn't see the bottom-most rib on his torso. Sam adjusted his seating and still, his third rib didn't strain against his skin.

Wow.

He grinned. If he kept eating like he was eating, he may be as imposing as Delcan. He was just as tall, after all. All it would take is nourishment and exercise.

"The nomadic western tribes believe the first sign of insanity is unwarranted joy."

Sam jolted and looked up to see one of the curtains slide back, only two beds away. A girl was sitting on it and staring at him.

Oh yeah, that was the girl that broke her wrist in wilderness class just that morning. Her name was on the tip of his tongue. He'd never heard her speak before, nor had any instructors called upon her in class. Was it weird that he didn't know all of his class members' names by now? Was it awful that he didn't bother learning them because most of them would be gone by the second year?

"Unwarranted joy is a bad thing, then?"

"Technically, yes." She swung her legs around until they dangled to the side of her bed. "According to the western tribes, anyway. They would have tossed you right on your arse to go find yourself a nice place to die if they saw you grinning at your own tummy like you were expecting a child."

Sam smiled, his eyebrows pinching together, because what was he supposed to say to that?

She cocked her head at him and suddenly a big grin slid over her pretty face. Sam relaxed. She hadn't been expecting him to actually answer, she was just messing with him. Which was great because while serious, odd people were interesting, his head was still too foggy to try and navigate a conversation with one.

"I'm Rosin." She stood up and trotted to his bed, sitting down on the mattress next to his. "I heard the nurse talking about what you did. Gave Delcan another thrashing, did you?"

"Ah, not exactly. He got me good, though." Sam pointed to his shoulder.

Rosin shrugged, and he didn't know what it was, but there was something very relaxing and easy about her. Like he'd known her for years already.

"Not all victory is won with the blood of the enemy." She said sagely, nodding to herself. "General Hollan said that."

Sam laughed. "Didn't General Hollan also lose the last pitch battle with Meera?"

"Ah!" She tapped the side of her nose and winked, "Only because he had a problem keeping his hands to himself. He was found in his tent when the battle horns sounded, naked and blue as the sky from the strangling he got. It's said the assassin was so beautiful that even after death, the good general was standing at attention, his last memories of her bared body keeping his blood alive and pumping south."

Sam laughed. She was clearly well-read. Quite beautiful, too, now that he was so close to her. She was as white as Mattie, maybe even whiter, and she had big blue eyes too. No freckles, though, and her hair was so blonde that it looked silver in the gleam of the sunlit windows.

She was so talkative right now. It made him wonder why she was so quiet in class. Maybe she just wasn't assertive in a group setting. Most people weren't.

Then he had an idea.

Sam didn't usually make such split-second decisions, but he trusted his gut when it told him that she was his type of person, that they would get along easily. He needed another crewmember, which was made even clearer thanks to Delcan's ambush. And unless she was weird like Fletch, she could probably use a few friends to watch her back. They were only in the first week, and Sam didn't know what was to come, but it would only get more competitive from here.

"I've never seen you talk to anybody in class. You like to keep to yourself?" He asked.

Rosin pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling. "Hmm. Not really, but also yes. It's hard to explain. I like people, but not all people,