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Today is the day I spar with Bart. Unlike Melody’s unsanctioned attack, killing me in class is totally acceptable.

All three of my friends are watching me, concern etched on their faces. I hate that I’ll probably disappoint them. That I’ll prove to be worthless, like Mr. Peters always said. Rather than admitting all of that to them, I nod, straightening my shoulders. “I’m ready to kick some ass.”

Vaeloria, please don’t let me die today.

Gossip chases me wherever I go. Foundations calling me a goddess traitor, Ferals giving me a wider berth than usual. Between that and my impending fight with Bart, nerves carry me through the day, riding me hard enough that by the time I make it to Practical Casting, I feel like I’ve fought a hundred battles already.

I ignore the hushed murmurs as Eli and I take our seats.

Bartholomew’s name is right beneath mine on the board. I chance a glance at Bart, only to find him glaring. Right. There’s no chance he’ll take it easy on me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Silverstone and Drake stride across the floor, and the silence hanging around us only deepens. Through these fights, our class has lost three students. Today we’ll find out how many more we’ll lose.

And hopefully I’m not one of them.

Drake’s arms are crossed over his broad chest, jaw clenched tight, and he looks everywhere but at me. The hard line between his eyebrows has me worried that the stick got rammed a little deeper in his ass.

I wonder if he thinks I’m using darkcasting too.

“Today is the last round of skills testing,” Silverstone says. “We’ll move on to honing your abilities for a few months before we do another cycle of one-on-one fights. After today, I encourage all of you to start taking this class seriously. The next cycle won’t be so easy.”

Drake’s eyes cut to me.

I bristle and mouth fuck you.

He scoffs.

Silverstone pauses whatever she was saying to look at him.

The mage holds up a hand in apology, then goes completely still. Silverstone studies him for a moment before turning back to the class. I swear her focus snares on me, but she moves on so quickly I can’t help wondering if I imagined it. Unease slithers in my gut as I watch the first four pairs of students hit the mats.

Their fights are fast and fierce, over far too quickly for my liking, and only one student ends up needing to go to the infirmary, their bones broken in so many pieces it will take hours for them to heal naturally.

Anticipation thuds in my chest. I breathe in and exhale slowly, trying to exert some type of control over my body, but anxiety runs away with adrenaline. Knee bouncing, I watch the next set of students. I wring my hands as one of them is launched across the room and nearly crashes into Drake. He steps aside to avoid being toppled over.

Someone near me laughs.

The mage whips his head in our direction.

Eli places his hand on my leg.

I send him a nod and press my lips together hard enough to hurt.

As a student catches on fire and bursts into ash, dying in mage fire, I realize that it’s probably simple fear driving those thoughts. My life isn’t the only one at risk today. I didn’t know the paranorm who died, but still, my chest tightens and a lump lodges in my throat.

That could be me. At the end of class, I could be nothing more than a pile of dust.

After a few more rounds, Silverstone finally calls my name, along with a handful of others. I rise from my seat and pick my way down the stairs.

“Good luck,” Eli calls after me.

I hate that he has to watch me fail. That he’ll be worried for me. If there was some way for me to spare him of that, I would. I center myself as Bart strides onto the mat, as big as a mountain, and joins me in our ring.

The room waits, breathless, for the fights to begin.

Bart cracks his neck, eyes already glowing a molten gold. I’ve seen his bear, and I’m in no hurry to fight him, but as always, I have no control over my fate.