Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: B.T. Narro
stole that potion from me.”
She finished and handed it to him. He reached out slowly to take it, then didn’t move or speak for a while.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just don’t tell anyone except the apothecary, and that’s thanks enough. Oh, and make sure you do not drink it.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Alabell.”
“I will find a way to repay you, Alabell.”
She smiled as he hurried off.
It wasn’t long after that she noticed a young woman running toward the training center from the opposite direction, a scabbard on her belt bouncing with her stride. Alabell couldn’t believe this was indeed a woman headed toward the line of warriors with a sword instead of a wand. She strained her eyes to make sure. Yes, there was no mistaking her hairstyle and breasts.
The woman dashed into an alley and came out a moment later with a cloak covering her figure and her shoulder-length hair now tucked into the hood of the cloak.
She noticed Alabell staring and stopped suddenly. Then she put her finger over her smiling lips to ask Alabell to keep quiet. Alabell shrugged and gave a grand sweeping gesture for her to make her way to the end of the line.
Alabell had no idea what the woman was expecting to accomplish. Females weren’t allowed to join the Academy as warriors, and it wasn’t as if she could hide her gender for long.
CHAPTER THREE
After the swordsmen fought, they were supposed to wait along the side of the training center for everyone to finish so Warrior Marne could select twenty to join the Academy. But out of hundreds, only about fifty stayed. The rest knew their embarrassing beating wasn’t good enough and had promptly left. Alabell treated many of them before watching them hobble away.
It was painful to watch so many men have their spirits crushed. But that didn’t compare to the wrench of her heart when she saw the impoverished brutally beaten by the rich. It was like watching a cat terrorize a trapped mouse. The less-trained man often spent most of the match retreating with nowhere to go before taking the inevitable strike, which was often done hard and with obvious malice, as if the experienced swordsman wanted to teach a lesson to stay out of his training center. This seemed to be the thought shared by everyone waiting as they cheered for blood.
Somehow the cloaked young woman at the back of the line had remained anonymous. As her turn came up, Alabell moved closer to watch.
The young woman turned away from Warrior Marne as she unfastened her cloak. Seeing Alabell watching, she stopped to twiddle her fingers in a playful wave. Alabell chuckled and waved back, hoping that whatever affliction drove this woman here wasn’t insanity but something Alabell might be able to fix once she was shooed away from competing.
The woman dropped her cloak and spun on her heels. She walked toward the warrior recruiter with marvelous confidence, as if to deliver retribution for all the men shamed before her, and drew her wooden sword from its scabbard like it was her tool for justice. There were three men around her: the recruiter, the impoverished man who’d been in line in front of her, and a recent warrior graduate who had been in the same grade as Alabell, a towering swordsman whose success fueled his arrogance. He was there to fight the more apt recruits when their opponent didn’t give them enough of a challenge for Warrior Marne to see their true skill, and everyone still waiting had faced him and lost without landing a strike.
These three men had the same reaction to the woman as those waiting behind them: utter and unamused shock. No matter how long they stared, they just couldn’t seem to believe what they were seeing.
Marne was the first to compose himself as he faced her squarely. “Lady, this line is for warriors trying to join the Academy.”
“I realize that, sir.” She raised her eyebrows as she gestured to her sword. “I’m here to prove
She finished and handed it to him. He reached out slowly to take it, then didn’t move or speak for a while.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just don’t tell anyone except the apothecary, and that’s thanks enough. Oh, and make sure you do not drink it.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Alabell.”
“I will find a way to repay you, Alabell.”
She smiled as he hurried off.
It wasn’t long after that she noticed a young woman running toward the training center from the opposite direction, a scabbard on her belt bouncing with her stride. Alabell couldn’t believe this was indeed a woman headed toward the line of warriors with a sword instead of a wand. She strained her eyes to make sure. Yes, there was no mistaking her hairstyle and breasts.
The woman dashed into an alley and came out a moment later with a cloak covering her figure and her shoulder-length hair now tucked into the hood of the cloak.
She noticed Alabell staring and stopped suddenly. Then she put her finger over her smiling lips to ask Alabell to keep quiet. Alabell shrugged and gave a grand sweeping gesture for her to make her way to the end of the line.
Alabell had no idea what the woman was expecting to accomplish. Females weren’t allowed to join the Academy as warriors, and it wasn’t as if she could hide her gender for long.
CHAPTER THREE
After the swordsmen fought, they were supposed to wait along the side of the training center for everyone to finish so Warrior Marne could select twenty to join the Academy. But out of hundreds, only about fifty stayed. The rest knew their embarrassing beating wasn’t good enough and had promptly left. Alabell treated many of them before watching them hobble away.
It was painful to watch so many men have their spirits crushed. But that didn’t compare to the wrench of her heart when she saw the impoverished brutally beaten by the rich. It was like watching a cat terrorize a trapped mouse. The less-trained man often spent most of the match retreating with nowhere to go before taking the inevitable strike, which was often done hard and with obvious malice, as if the experienced swordsman wanted to teach a lesson to stay out of his training center. This seemed to be the thought shared by everyone waiting as they cheered for blood.
Somehow the cloaked young woman at the back of the line had remained anonymous. As her turn came up, Alabell moved closer to watch.
The young woman turned away from Warrior Marne as she unfastened her cloak. Seeing Alabell watching, she stopped to twiddle her fingers in a playful wave. Alabell chuckled and waved back, hoping that whatever affliction drove this woman here wasn’t insanity but something Alabell might be able to fix once she was shooed away from competing.
The woman dropped her cloak and spun on her heels. She walked toward the warrior recruiter with marvelous confidence, as if to deliver retribution for all the men shamed before her, and drew her wooden sword from its scabbard like it was her tool for justice. There were three men around her: the recruiter, the impoverished man who’d been in line in front of her, and a recent warrior graduate who had been in the same grade as Alabell, a towering swordsman whose success fueled his arrogance. He was there to fight the more apt recruits when their opponent didn’t give them enough of a challenge for Warrior Marne to see their true skill, and everyone still waiting had faced him and lost without landing a strike.
These three men had the same reaction to the woman as those waiting behind them: utter and unamused shock. No matter how long they stared, they just couldn’t seem to believe what they were seeing.
Marne was the first to compose himself as he faced her squarely. “Lady, this line is for warriors trying to join the Academy.”
“I realize that, sir.” She raised her eyebrows as she gestured to her sword. “I’m here to prove
Readers choose
Stephanie Brown
Juliet Marillier
Drew Karpyshyn
Adrienne Giordano
Aubrie Dionne
Joy Fielding
Sibel Hodge
Michelle Orange
Ann Michler Lewis