Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) Read Online Free

there was some guilt, for she knew her family name had a great deal to do with it.
    She’d entered the Academy a year early, at sixteen, because of a recommendation from her great-uncle, who was the lead councilman to the king at the time. This year, others were allowed to enroll at sixteen because many students had died during the war and interest in joining the Academy had suffered as a result.
    Alabell hadn’t fought in any of the battles. She was there, though, close enough to see the Krepps and men of Tenred killing her friends. Her closest friend had died on her medical table, and she constantly told herself there was nothing she could’ve done to save her. Sometimes it helped. Most of the time it didn’t.
    “I’m far from feeling overwhelmed,” she answered Kerr. “I eagerly await more tasks.”
    “Good. We need a chemist at every training center in each city today. Many of the swordsmen are hopeful beginners facing well-trained braggarts who don’t know the meaning of mercy.”
    Alabell nodded. She’d met many such men throughout her three years at the Academy. “Which training center would you like me to be at?”
    “The one that often sees the worst injuries: Worender. It’s the nearest one to the poorest district in Oakshen, so it attracts many young men who’ve spent countless hours with a spade or a pick but none with a sword. There might also be novice mages who do more damage to themselves than the metal dummy they’re aiming at.”
     
     
    *****
     
     
    It was about four miles to Oakshen from the capital, but Alabell’s time at the castle, with its many stairs and ramps, had served to help her retain her fitness after her training at the Academy. She made it to the training center in time for a brief lunch before the trials began.
    The line of potential warriors was much longer than the one for mages, and she expected a higher percentage of the men would injure each other than the women on the mage side would hurt themselves. So she pushed her medical cart toward the warrior’s side of the training center.
    The men ranged from thin to stout, short to tall, clean-shaven to faintly bearded, but the most noticeable difference was between the rich and the poor. Some of the young men were pungent enough for the others to give them a wide berth.
    She hadn’t anticipated the staring. Every time she looked she found a number of the men watching her instead of the two dueling. She’d worn a loose robe of white to indicate her class as a chemist but also to help hide her shapely bosom. It didn’t seem to matter, though, and soon she decided to move her cart more toward the mages’ side.
    Those who were injured were easily treated. Most had small gashes that just needed to be disinfected and covered. These men knew how to defend themselves.
    But none of the poor had fought yet. They were toward the end of the line.
    She watched the mages shoot small fireballs, many missing their targets. They were quiet in comparison to the boisterous men who cheered and laughed at each other frequently. Many took a vicious hit yet refused to come to her for assistance, presumably out of pride.
    All recruiters were instructors at the Academy, and Alabell recognized both the warrior and the mage recruiters in front of her. She’d never met Warrior Marne, but he was known to be as tough as he was ugly. Alabell had met Mage Jackrie several times because her friend who’d died had been in Jackrie’s class. She was young for an instructor, laughing more than most other instructors and yelling less.
    One of the impoverished swordsmen had walked over to Jackrie upon arriving and then run off. Alabell watched him go straight into a wand shop. A short time later, he came out with a hideous wand and an empty sheath on his belt. Alabell was thankful there were no injured to treat as she watched him, because she’d never heard of someone going into recruitment as one class and choosing another at the last moment, and she