The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

But the Captain just smirks at me and turns his attention back to the group of us, beginning his lecture. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“Espionage Track splits its chosen cadets further into specialties so that we can have a

variety of agents trained for our nation’s particular needs. All of you will be trained by Dr. Neumann so that you can each handle the chemical tools that you’ll need to perform your jobs on the battlefield, wherever that may be. Some of the cadets in your track are spending their alternate days taking lessons with Ambassador–track students, so that we can have agents trained to go into political situations.”

I dart my eyes towards the two young men standing next to me, wondering if they, too, are relieved to be spared those classes. I had enough political training as a Princess – I have no real urge to further study how to handle myself in government negotiations.

No, I want to get to the good stuff.

“Other cadets,” the Captain continues, his voice snapping my eyes back to him, “within Espionage track, are being trained in disciplines which are classified. Your discipline is likewise classified, so I would urge you to be close–lipped with your peers regarding what it is, precisely, that you learn in this class.”

My eyes go a little wide with excitement, because a classified discipline? This, I think, is where it starts to get good.

“I chose the three of you,” the Captain says, folding his arms, “because of your high marksmanship rankings combined with your excellent scores on the intelligence examination. And I get first pick of cadets, so you should see your position here as…elite.”

A little thrill of joy runs through me, because even if I was ninetieth through the door into the Academy? Clearly, the Captain wanted me here.

“Come,” he says, turning sharply and marching towards the back of the room. The other two cadets and I follow immediately. I take a moment to glance up at them, noting the excitement on their faces as well. One of them, I’m surprised to see, is a blonde that I noticed on the first day of candidacy – tall and quiet with a jawline as sharp as a knife. The other is a dark–haired young man only a little taller than me, his face serious, perhaps a little taciturn.

Though I’ve got no real reason to, I like them both immediately.

But before I can consider them further, the Captain presses a button on the back wall. A metal partition begins to raise, tucking itself neatly against the ceiling above us like a garage door. And beyond it

I gasp a little, unable to help it, at the incredible expanse of weapons that sit beyond it.

“You three,” the Captain says, a distinct hint of pleasure in his voice, “are going to be trained as marksmen. Snipers, specifically, if we can get you there. But experts in long–rage projectiles of a variety of classes. You will each find your specialty as the course progresses.”

I’m practically vibrating with excitement as I survey the collection of rifles, bows, crossbows, and even shoulder–mounted missile launchers that range before me, each of them top of the line and state–of– the–art. I mean, I’m not a gun nut or anything, but even I have to admit that this is insanely cool.

“May I ask a question?” the blonde next to me asks, drawing my eyes to him now.

“You’re encouraged to, Cadet Baumann” the Captain says, nodding to him. “We can be more casual here than we are elsewhere – I expect a distinct camaraderie to build within this group, presuming that you can indeed make it through the Examination.”

The blonde nods. “Is this…everything? All the weaponry at our disposal?” I smirk, because he sounds a little disappointed.

The Captain laughs a little, clearly feeling as I do. “It is not,” he says, shaking his head. “There is a great deal more – this is simply what has been made available as preliminary weaponry for the course. Is there something in particular that you’d like to see?”

“At home,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, “I trained a little in drone strike technology. I would be…interested to continue those studies.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” the Captain replies, his eyebrows raised, “provided you prove adequate with this,” he nods now towards the weapons behind him.

weapons and

The cadet nods and the Captain moves on, going through each of the explaining what it is, how it’s going to be used. And then he hands each of us a bow, explaining that we’ll be moving from oldest to newest technologies, hoping to master each

over the course of the next few months and, in doing so, revealing where our particular aptitudes lay.

I’m grinning with excitement by the time that the Captain hands me my bow, offering a quiver of arrows that I sling over my shoulder.

“Do any of you have experience with archery?” The Captain asks.

“I do!” I quip, cheerful, but I grimace a little when I realize that I’m the only one who spoke. The other two glare at me a little, perhaps resenting my leg–up. The marksmanship test we took as candidates, after all, only measured our expertise with guns.

“Um,” I say, retracting my excitement just a bit. “Just…some target practice at summer camp,” I lie. Because I have that, but also a few years of private tutoring. Jesse and Rafe got hand–to–hand combat lessons which dad decided were too rough for me, so mom? She hired a world–class archer to teach me this more “delicate” sport.

The Captain smirks at me, clearly seeing through my lie, but he gestures towards the range of targets at the far end of the room. Humans, I know, would struggle to make out the details that far down the room, but our wolf eyesight has no trouble making out the bullseye at the center of each.

The three of us line up at the red line painted across the floor, paying close attention to the Captain as he gives us all a brief introduction to the bow and basic instructions on how to fire it. I listen closely even if I don’t need it, wanting to soak up every bit of instruction available to me.

Because I am quite determined to do well in this course, and I suspect that it – like our Chemistry exam – has cuts at the end of term. Cuts which I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid.

We start shooting as the Captain stands aside as watches us from behind. My muscles sigh happily as I step into the familiar stance and draw the bow. The string pulls back easily on the unfamiliar compound weapon I trained on recurve, which requires more strength. But I take aim and let my first arrow fly, following it up with three more as I get used to the feel of the weapon.

–

All four of my shots hit the target, though none of them come close to the bullseye. I’m frowning, disappointed, until I glance over at the other targets and see that…none of the

other two made any of their shots.

“Retrieve,” the Captain orders, calm, and I sling my bow over my shoulder before starting the long trek to the target, even though there are more arrows already in my quiver. Still, it’s nice to have a clean target as well as an opportunity to talk to my fellow cadets.

–

“I’m Ari,” I whisper as the three of us walk side–by–side.

“I’m jealous,” the small dark–haired cadet says, shooting me a little glare, though I can tell by the way that his lips curl up that there’s not an ounce of malice behind his words. “Tell the truth – did you grow up doing this?”