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smiled—“write about it. Five pages before week’s end. Dismissed.”
    That last did not apply to her. Renee stayed seated until the last of her classmates cleared the room, shook her head at Alec, who waited by the door, then rose to strike attention before Seaborn. Her stomach clenched.
    He sighed and rubbed his chin. “Up late with your sword, cadet?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m—”
    “On probation in combat arts. I know.” He sat on the edge of his desk. “I am not down-rating you this time, Renee, but this is your warning. No late assignments, no missed classes.” His voice was gentle. “A cadet will be cut at midyear and a down-rate in academics will affect your class standing. I don’t believe such would help your predicament and do not wish to do such things. But I will. You understand?”
    Only Seaborn could issue an ultimatum that left
you
feeling guilty. She nodded.
    He patted her shoulder. “Dismissed.”
    Renee started to leave, but a thought scratched at her mind. “Sir, Vipers want to end mage registration. They even burned down an official post three days ago. But . . . Why do they care?”
    Seaborn smiled and held the door open for her. “A group that enslaves fighters into Predator pits demands freedom for mages. Ironic.” He paused. “But can you think of a better way to recruit mage support? The Vipers’ Madam is ruthless and blood-lusting, but unfortunately not stupid.” His face grew serious. “There are now more unregistered mages allied with the Vipers than there are unregistered mages in all the rest of Tildor.”
    Renee swallowed. The Family caused enough heartache on their own, without Vipers and their illegal mages dragged into the melee.
A disease of crime.
King Lysian was right.

CHAPTER 6
    R enee aimed her blow at Alec’s head. He blocked late and their blades locked a hand-width above his forehead. Her arms shook from the strain, sweat stinging narrowed eyes, but he shook too. With her sword pressing down and his up, the advantage was hers. They both knew it. She had practiced the attack all summer.
    “Halt!” Savoy’s voice broke them.
    Renee’s jaw tensed as she obeyed the order, stepping away without seeing her score connect.
    Alec gave her a minute bow, conceding the match despite its premature end. He never begrudged her her victories, not even in junior years when they were of a size and she beat him nine of ten bouts.
    Savoy rubbed his temple. “He outweighs you by three stone. What in the Seven Hells are you doing, de Winter?”
    Winning
. She clasped her hands behind her back.
    “You think you can overpower him? Or anyone in this salle?”
    Her knuckles tightened. “Yes, sir. If I create the right circumstance.”
    Savoy raised his head, pitching his voice over the salle. “Class halt! Push-up position. Knuckles and toes, backs straight, eyes on me. Hold.” He lowered himself directly in front of her. “Start creating.”
    A minute passed. Two. Three. Renee’s shoulders trembled. Sand had scraped the skin off her knuckles and now grated into the sores each time she adjusted her fists. Sweat dripped into her eyes, slid to the point of her nose, and fell to a puddle forming on the sand. Her right arm cramped in inevitable surrender. Her knees sagged toward the sand.
    “Recover!” Savoy called a hair before she failed. He held her gaze, driving his point deeper while the class around them reclaimed its footing. Girls and weaker boys didn’t belong among Fighter Servants. They weren’t worthy of becoming the Crown’s champions.
    Renee drew a breath and held it. Savoy was testing her resolve, goading her to work harder, to be better. She would.
    The door creaked. At Savoy’s nod, Seaborn slipped inside. “Commander, when you finish, Master Verin requests to see us.”
    Savoy’s face tensed for an instant before he collected his feet under him and rose. “Dismissed,” he called, dusting his hands against his britches.
    Renee stared at the backs of her