Malcolm (Book 1, The Redemption Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

walk into my chambers.
    Just before I pass through the curtains into my rooms, I turn to look at Auggie one last time. I notice a glimmer of light right behind him but can't quite make out what it is before he teleports away. The glimmer vanishes with him, and I simply chalk it up to being the effects of the sun's glare. Yet, it seemed to have a physical form. I shake my head, realizing my eyes must have been playing tricks on me and go seek out the person who can answer the many questions I have after my lesson with the empress.
     
    I find my father in the training room practicing his sword fighting with the holographic sparring partner we nicknamed Rob. I stand to the side of the wooden platform and watch my papa as he maneuvers Rob into a defensive position with his swordplay until Rob ends up on the floor and says he yields. My father extends his hand down to Rob and helps him stand back up.
    “Thank you, Rob,” my papa says before looking over at me with a mischievous smile, “but I think I have a flesh and blood opponent now. You may leave.”
    “As you wish, Lord Andre,” Rob says before vanishing from sight.
    My father walks over to me twirling his sword effortlessly in his hand.
    “Up for a little practice?” My father asks with a taunting grin.
    “Are you that anxious to be beat by me again?” I say, unable to suppress a smile of my own.
    “Now is that any way to talk to your father, Lady Anna?” He asks jokingly. “Or are you afraid I might actually defeat you this time?”
    I look down at my gown. “I’m not exactly dressed for a sparring match.”
    “You never know what you might be wearing if you’re attacked unawares,” he says, turning serious. “You need to be prepared no matter what the occasion, Anna. What you’re wearing shouldn’t matter.”
    “Fair enough,” I reply, stepping onto the platform. “Sword,” I say, holding out my hand and having one materialize in it. It’s only a hologram of one because real weapons aren’t allowed in Cirrus, but it mimics the weight and feel of a real sword adequately enough.
    My father and I stand across from one another and bow before we take up our fighting stances. Swordplay with my father has been something we’ve done ever since I was able to hold a sword. It was an exercise we did to relieve stress and an activity we easily bonded over. My papa said I was a natural with a sword and that he had never seen anyone who could swing it so effortlessly. I suppose my unnatural strength gave me an advantage too.
    When I was six years old, I learned my strength was greater than that of anyone else in Cirrus. I accidentally pushed one of the walls in my room down because I was throwing a temper tantrum over not being allowed to go down-world with my father. It scared me when it happened. My father explained to me that I wasn’t like other children, and that I had to be careful with the strength I possessed. At such an early age, I didn’t quite understand why I was so strong. I still don’t. It was just a fact of my life, and I had come to accept that I was different from other people. I just didn’t know why. I assumed my father would fill in the details at some point, but apparently that point simply hadn’t come yet.
    My father and I cross swords, and I take the first swing.
    “Why didn’t you ever tell me Malcolm Devereaux was the one who paid for our titles and my dowry?” I ask, catching my father off guard to the point that he almost drops his weapon.
    He soon recovers and doubles his attack against me.
    “It wasn’t something you needed to know,” he tells me, the ferocity of his attack forcing me to take a few steps back.
    My father was strong, but he could never match my strength no matter how hard he tried.
    I twirl around him, making him falter and twist his torso in an awkward position to block my next strike.
    “Did the empress tell you that today?” My father asks, knowing the information had to come from