Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) Read Free

declared his decision in front of the panel. Slaves hardly ever got chosen for private training before their fifteenth year. Besides, Arianna thought it obvious that her dueling partner had let her win. After all, Liam always took it easy on her.
    As soon as the question spilled from her mouth, she regretted it. A hooded regulator hovered over her with his hand raised, ready to strike. Before his palm could reach the skin on her face, her reflexes took over, another thing she would soon regret. She jumped up and side-stepped his hand. The regulator faltered under her maneuver and tripped sideways. Her twelfth-year peers gasped at the scene, and her face paled in horror.
     More regulators closed in to drag her away, and sweat beaded on her forehead as they clutched at her arms. Before they could remove her, Solomon Bell raised his hand in an order of halt. The regulators gave their distance to Arianna, and she fell to her knees in shame and relief.
     “Let her be,” commanded the master swordsman. “She has made only a small offense. It’s nothing to get excited about. Besides, I will enjoy teaching her the hard lesson of respect in training tomorrow.” Arianna lowered her head, afraid to look him in the eyes for fear they would match the threat in his voice.
    “Please, forgive my offense. I meant no disrespect, Sir,” she said in a small, shaky sound. Her eyes studied the ground.
    “Look at me when you speak, girl,” he said in a menacing tenor, so she lifted her head in obedience.
    There was no hint of anger on his face like she anticipated. His eyes gave her a strange sense of reassurance and warmth. He strode down the stone steps from the evaluators’ stand, and, for a moment, Arianna thought him a king. His white, velvet cloak sparkled in the daylight; rubicund silk trimmed the edges and lined the inside. On the back, embroidered in the same shiny thread, the crest of the district completed his regal appearance. He lifted her to her feet by the elbow and whispered something in her ear.
    His words were quite unexpected and ones that she would never forget. “I chose you because you’re worth choosing,” he said. Immediately tears began to well in her eyes. She had never been worth anything to anyone in her life. “You are dismissed. Your lessons begin at dawn,” he said with finality.
     

     
    “Solomon, friend, it pains me that you worry so much. You know you’ve taught me well.” She sprung forward again. “You get so angry when only my mind has faltered, yet not the blade in hand.” She smiled. “Am I not match enough without adding my intellect to the battle?” Solomon stopped attacking, his black skin glimmering with sweat.
    Swords swinging at her side, her eyes steadied on her trainer. She tried to look brave, but he intimidated her. Could he tell? Although somewhat humbled by the bad knee gained during his time serving the King, his skill never faltered. He cleared Arianna by a full shaved head, so she looked up to meet his gaze.
    He could pass for forty, but his eyes gave him away. In Olleb-Yelfra, people could live a very long time. No slave knew the age of any of the elders that ran the district. Why, even King Devlindor had just celebrated his third century, and his portraits still looked youthful. For all she knew, Solomon could be one hundred and fifty. He claimed twenty-nine, but Arianna knew better. His wisdom far outreached such a small number.
    His dark eyes trained on her, calculating her next move. “If you were any match at all, dear girl, I might actually make an effort,” he said. “I would return us to the wooden blade for fear you might cut out my heart.” He returned her smile, and she paled. “But, alas, you’re neither match nor worthy opponent for an old cripple like me.”
    With no time to react to the sudden whip of his sword and rapid maneuver of his leg, bad or not, Arianna lay flat on her back once again. All traces of humor left her face as Solomon looked down