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will be preserved.”
    â€œViolent attack . . . ? I would never—”
    She raised her voice. “Guards!”
    From the lit candles, the fire spirits flew at him. Three of them, each tiny, their bodies made of flame, their eyes like coal, theirclaws like diamonds. He drew his sword, slowly, his muscles not believing that she was doing this. One of the spirits latched on to his arm, its claws digging into his muscle. He burst into motion kicking and slicing at the spirits, as the door to the Blue Room burst open and the guards spilled in.
    All the while, Queen Fara watched from the throne. He thought he saw sorrow in her eyes.

CHAPTER 3
    T he entrance exam to Northeast Academy was always conducted in front of an audience. Guards were arrayed around the bleachers to minimize the danger to onlookers, and the bleachers themselves kept the audience off the forest floor, but no one pretended it was safe, which was why Daleina did not like that her parents had brought her little sister, Arin, now nine years old, to watch. The three of them were squeezed into the back row—the wealthy parents had secured the better seats, in the center, with a thick layer of other viewers between them and the trees. In the back, Arin was popping bits of crumbled cookie into her mouth, and their mother had bundled her in three sweaters and two scarves.
    As an applicant, Daleina wore a white tunic, only a thin layer between her skin and the cold. Goose bumps crowded her arms and legs, and she tried not to noticeably shiver. The other applicants didn’t seem bothered by the almost-winter chill—white blossoms of frost had coated the glass windows in the morning and had made the fallen leaves crisp and shrivel. The others were chatting and laughing, clustered by the judges’ table. There were about twenty girls, all approximately fifteen years old, like Daleina. Many of them seemed to know one another already. She tried to smile at a few of them, and a few smiled back before they returned to chatting with the others. Others returned much colder looks.
    She was the outsider, she supposed—the only girl from the outer villages. For the last five years, she’d been the assistant to Mistress Baria, the local hedgewitch in the village her family had settled in, tasked with gathering herbs and mixing charms and keeping the shop clean, because the hedgewitch’s joints bothered her. She was only allowed to practice commands once a week, while Mistress Baria monitored her attempts, in order to make sure she summoned only small, stupid spirits with weak wills, who could be easily dismissed with a few words and charms. Outside the academy, waiting with the other girls, Daleina was acutely aware that her training was, at best, minimal.
    But that’s why I’m here—to change that, to learn, to test myself. To be more.
    Looking up in the stands, Daleina met Arin’s eyes. Bouncing in her seat, Arin waved with both arms. It was Arin who had convinced her she was ready. The hedgewitch said she wasn’t, but Arin argued she just didn’t want to lose her assistant. Daleina had been paid in lessons, a bargain for the hedgewitch. She’ll just have to dust her own cobwebs, Arin had said, or make friends with the spiders. You’re supposed to be a student, not a servant. You have to do this!
    And so Daleina had announced to her parents that she was ready, and here they all were.
    Daleina couldn’t help wondering if Mistress Baria was right. She didn’t feel ready anymore. She studied the row of judges: five older women, all in black, with hair slicked away from their faces. One had a scar on her cheek. Another had tattoos across her neck, obscuring bunched tissue from old burns. The oldest woman only had one arm. The other empty sleeve was pinned to her blouse. Other teachers were lined up on the side—they’d be the ones to administer the exam. All of them sported scars too and wore