Curse of Blood and Shadow: Allied Kingdoms Academy 1

Curse of Blood and Shadow
Allied Kingdoms Academy 1
J.M. Kearl
Independently Published by J.M. Kearl


Copyright © 2020 J.M. Kearl
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: J.M. Kearl


I want to say thank you and dedicate this book to my sister Brittany, she bounced ideas around with me and helped make this book a reality.


Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37


Chapter 1
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck as I gripped my sword tighter. The weight of the shiny metal grew heavy in my fatiguing grasp. Slowly, my breath pushed past my lips. I took a step, watching my opponent for his next move. He outweighed me by at least fifty pounds and was a full five inches taller but his speed, tired or not, didn’t match mine.
I struck out. Our swords hit. He shoved me back. Side step, swing. I brought my blade across his shoulder and the blunted metal tore through the fabric of his shirt but didn’t cut skin. He winced and jerked away. It would bruise but on a real battlefield he’d lose the use of that arm.
“Come on, Visteal, finish it!” Shouted a girl on one side of the sparring circle.
The fifty or so boys hollered from the opposite side to their teammate. They didn’t want to lose this week’s tournament to a girl again. “You’re good, Princess,” Finnick said with a smirk. “But you won’t be victorious today.”
He rushed me, bringing his sword down hard. I blocked it but the weight of his body was too much. Ducking to the side, I rolled, ending up on one knee in the grass. Staying low, I turned toward Finnick, swinging my sword at his legs. His foot collided with my arm sending my weapon flying through the air.
Grinning, he brought the point of his blade to my neck and the professor let out a whistle, signaling the end of the match, and my defeat. The boys cheered, the girls groaned in disappointment. I punched the ground in frustration. That was a loss for the girls’ team this week and it was my fault. Bragging rights would go to the boys. To make it worse, a palm-sized, blue-haired pixie with purple iridescent wings, marked an “L” next to my name on the board.
Finnick held out his hand to me. “You can’t win every time.”
Looking at him, I grew nervous. But if I didn’t take it, people would think I was being a sore loser, and as Princess, I had to be amiable. Reluctantly, we clasped hands, and the moment our skin touched, my mind was invaded with a scene that took my breath away... Finnick walking down a darkened hallway, the only source of light came from a torch on the wall. His footsteps echoed loudly, then I heard a second set—My body tensed in anticipation of what this vision would bring. Out of the shadows a figure jumped onto Finnick’s back. Screams of pain, an animalistic growl, then Finnick hit the floor and the attacker ran. Blood oozed from his neck, and his eyes stared soullessly toward the heavens.
Taking in a sharp breath, and nauseated, I jerked from his grasp and stared into his face. Finnick was going to die. I knew this because I was born with a curse. Some people would say it was a gift, but seeing the end of one’s life was anything but gifted. My parents told me to keep my ability a secret. Father thought if people knew, they’d seek me out for this knowledge so that they could try to prevent their unfortunate fate. People would kill to stop it. The problem with that was, I’d never once been wrong. I’d tried to save people before.
“What’s the matter?” Finnick asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and walked away, saying nothing. If I told him what I saw, it wouldn’t change anything. The people in these visions always died exactly as it played out in my mind. I only viewed death if it was tragic—violent, if the person’s life was cut short. Which in itself was tragic. Couldn’t I watch someone die as an old woman in her bed after a long life? Not a murder.
Thankfully, the sparring match was the last class of the day so I could escape. I fought back tears. Finnick and I weren’t close, we hadn’t spoken more than a few words of banter but I didn’t want him to die. For his life to be cut short like that… and who would kill him? What sort of person growls like a beast? There was no war, no battles to be fought. With the low lighting, I couldn’t tell from the vision but I assumed the person slit his throat; there was so much blood.
Earlier in the day, before I saw Finnick’s death, I was worried about what my parents, the King and Queen, wanted to talk to me about at dinner. If they called me to dine with them instead of allowing me to eat with the other students, that usually meant I was in trouble. Hopefully they didn’t find out I put a spider the size of my hand in Old