Free The Chosen of Anthros by Travis Simmons Page B

something that said he didn’t really want Leona to go, that he’d rather have the time to spend alone with Abagail. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want Leona to feel left out, but she also really wanted time alone with the elf.
    “I’ve got plans tomorrow night,” Leona called from the top of the stairs.
    Skye laughed. “Seems like we’ve had an uninvited third guest this entire time.”
    “Very funny,” she said, coming down the stairs, acting as if nothing was wrong. “I was on my way down anyway.” She showed him the empty mug as if that was the only reason she had come back down.
    “Yea, sure,” Skye said. He slid his hand further from Abagail’s and stood up. “Well, thank you for the tea. I will meet you here tomorrow night.” He gave Abagail a wink and ruffled Leona’s short hair. Leona swatted at him, but smiled.
    “What do you have going on tomorrow night?” Abagail asked Leona once Skye had shut the door behind himself.
    “My plans for tomorrow night are to not come between Abagail and the guy she lusts after.”
    “I don’t—”
    “Don’t lie. I’m a seer, remember?” Leona said. She waved at her sister behind her back. “Early day tomorrow. G’night.”
     

Abagail closed the door to the classroom behind her. The darkness inside was nearly all consuming compared to outside and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the candlelight inside the yurt. Her stomach growled because she’d gotten up late and hadn’t had time to grab anything to eat before her training. She’d made a mad dash up to the second level just so she’d be on time. Rowan seemed like she was warming up to Abagail, but she still didn’t think that the harbinger would be happy if she was late to her first class.
    When her eyesight adjusted to the darker room, she noticed Gil standing in the back of the room, dressed in a nondescript brown tunic and trousers. If at all possible, it made him seem plainer than he had before.
    Abagail hadn’t really had time to plan what she was going to wear, but her lavender tunic and black trousers looked almost festive compared to his outfit.
    “Where’s Rowan?” Abagail asked, stepping further into the room. Her shoulders eased their tension knowing that the harbinger couldn’t see that Abagail was nearly late to her first lesson.
    “She will be a little late,” Gil said.
    Great, here I was worried about being late, and she isn’t even here. But it would have been her luck to show up late and have Rowan here at the exact time she was supposed to be.
    Gil gathered something from a table beside him and came closer to Abagail. When he was close enough that the meager light illuminated him, she could see he carried a strange bracelet of sorts. “You can take off your glove,” he told her. “This is a sparring glove. This ring attaches to your middle finger, and the bracelet clamps over your wrist. Make sure that this flat disk is against your palm.”
    He handed the bracelet to Abagail and when he did she noticed a similar one on his left hand. She didn’t see any evidence of the shadow plague.
    “Where is your plague?” Abagail asked, slipping the silver ring over her finger. She pressed the bronze disk to her palm and fastened the bracelet to her wrist. Somehow the contraption seemed the perfect size for her.
    “Rowan told you that not all harbingers have been infected with the plague. I’m one of the lucky few.” He smiled at her.
    “Not to be rude, but how are you going to be able to teach me to combat my emotions well enough to learn to work my wyrd if you’ve never been tempted by the plague?”
    Gil walked behind her and ran his hand over the collar around her neck. It clicked open and fell to the floor with a heavy clang. “Just because I don’t have the plague doesn’t mean I haven’t had to learn to control my emotions when it comes to wyrdings.”
    “Right, but the plague makes those emotions worse,” Abagail told him. “I