Spycraft Academy

his chin up a bit higher. "He . . . couldn't stand the heat."
"Hm. Poor thing. I guess it's lucky that I can." Drina was, at this point, sharing breath with him. If Sam wasn't conscious of spoiling her work, he would have asked her how she knew what questions to ask. It was clear that she was being vague and letting him fill in the blanks, but there was nothing on him to indicate that he was noble enough to spend considerable time in the palace, or that he was a good enough fighter to compete in the coliseum. It was impressive, definitely a skill that he would like to analyze and include in the rest of his repertoire.
"Glad to hear it," he muttered, almost brushing noses with her.
She pulled away a little and his face leaned in closer, like it was trying to follow her. She said, "I think we should have a celebration for our first night as official Academy students."
Drina twisted a lock of hair around her finger and pinned him with an intense, purposeful stare. "Maybe I can have my little party in your room, since mine will be unavailable . . . unless your roommate would have a problem with that?"
The idiot didn't even ask why her room was unavailable.
"You can absolutely do that. And I don't have a roommate, so no problems there."
"Mm. So, we could hypothetically celebrate all night, and nobody would complain about the noise?"
"No, I'm at the end of the hall on the first floor. Nobody will hear a peep."
She leaned in again, and this time she actually touched him. Her hand splayed over his chest and she angled her head to stare up at him while he craned his neck to look down. It almost looked like they were going to kiss. Drina walked her fingers up his chest and he leaned in more, their lips almost meeting.
Drina pressed a finger against his lips and he seemed to come back to himself for a moment, frowning hard.
"A lady never compromises herself in public," Drina murmured. His frown cleared away for a smirk and he leaned away from her.
She leaned back against the armrest and crossed her legs. "I'll see you later, Delcan."
Declan's face dropped at being abruptly excused, but then his smirk returned. "That you will."
He stood up and that time, he gave the rest of them a cursory glance. His eyes stayed on Mattie a little longer than Sam, and when he looked at Nubia, she stared right back with a coy smile. It was the look that Drina had given him, and just as dangerous.
When he'd taken his leave, Nubia rolled her shoulders and stood up. "Well, it seems that you're right, Drina. Men do make terrible spies. They're good for a few other things, though, and I don't mind compromising myself in public."
Drina rolled her eyes. "Do tell me how that goes. I predict it will be quite disappointing."
"I guess I'll just have to see and find out."
Nubia gave them all a small, parting wave before she slinked off after Delcan.
"How did you do that?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl. "Know what to say, that is."
Drina shrugged, "His accent sounded central Varin. His belt was made of black bull skin and stamped with a southern seal on the top seam. The only people living in central Varin that can afford such luxuries, and on a belt of all things, are far wealthier than a baron. There were other hints that helped me along, age and behavior and such."
"You could tell what skin it was?" Mattie's expression was serious and focused.
"Well, yeah. The man who we rent our cropland from sells pelts and skins to the export caravan. Even black bull. Most of his income is from animal hides."
Sam's eyebrows shot up. She was from the southern farmlands. She specifically said 'we rent our cropland.' Drina, despite her air of refined allure, was a farmer. Suddenly, Sam felt much more relaxed. She was just like them: poor enough to never have a chance at affording tuition, yet skilled enough to be accepted regardless. He could learn a thing or two from her. By the way she carried herself, he would have never guessed. Sam stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was his posture or his hair, maybe it was the way he spoke, but infiltration would be much easier if people believed that he was one of them. Drina could probably teach him how to blend in like she did.
"Well, Drina from the southern farmlands." He stuck his hand out and she clasped it to shake, a curious smile dimpling her cheeks. "I'm Samson Croft, and I'm very good at stealing things. Better than you, I bet."
"Oh, would you like to wager?" Her little smile turned into a happy one and lit up her face. "Well, let's play and see who wins."
There was a new gleam in her eye, a competitive one. Sam's heart rapped against his chest a little faster and the need to defeat her was overwhelming any doubts he might have had that she might win. She wouldn't win. He would.
A shrill ringing struck the room from somewhere outside. It was loud enough to be unmistakable but quiet enough to avoid startling anybody.
Sam's answering smile was crooked and self-assured. "Let's play, then."

4
The students filed behind Gyna like ducklings into the main quad. She ordered them to stand quietly on the grassy lawn and wait patiently for the headmaster. That had been ten minutes past, and Sam could feel the restlessness of the large group. It also hadn't escaped his notice that the older students were watching them.
Sam could spot a few of them ducked under trees, tucked between buildings, and staring out of open windows. If he hadn't been looking for them, he wouldn't have found them. He promised himself that one day, he would be the one peering at the young newcomers, wondering which ones would make