I followed the flow of cadets down the corridor and into the auditorium-style recap room at the end of the hall. Unlike the room I’d just left, this one was warm, and I felt the goose bumps on my arms melt back into my skin as I slid into a seat at the back. No need to be front and center for this. My classmates filed in around me, filling in the seats until the room was about a quarter full. I noted that three of the other kids in my year—Jennifer, Rory, and Mike—were here, a fact that should have probably made me feel better, but instead it just annoyed me. The more kids in the recap, the longer this whole mess was going to take. Besides, it wasn’t like we were all buddies who would sit together to make this whole thing more bearable. They were nice to me in the way that most people were, like it was a requirement because of who my mom was, but they were a far cry from friends. Professor Treebaun stood at the front of the room, looking none too pleased about getting stuck with this particular duty.

Once the last cadet had taken their seat, Professor Treebaun pressed a button on his tablet and the doors to the recap room slid shut, sealing us in.

“Would anyone like to volunteer to begin this particular recap session?” he asked, his sharp eyes scanning the room. I sank down deeper into my chair and made an effort to look anywhere but at him. Thankfully he called on someone else, and the room darkened as the floor-to-ceiling screen in the front of the room came to life so the entire class could watch a third-year cadet’s disastrous simulation during the Texas Revolution. Poor kid screwed up within one minute of landing in the middle of the battle for the Alamo. He’d taken a misstep and fallen backward, knocking over three men who had the misfortune of standing near the wall of the Alamo. Professor Treebaun chose that moment to freeze the screen, mid-flail, and I saw the boy visibly shrink.

“Who can tell me where he went wrong?” he asked. Five hands shot up, but mine was definitely not one of them. Treebaun scanned the room and then pointed to someone I couldn’t see in the front row.

“He forgot about the attack from the north outer wall of the Alamo complex,” came a voice I knew all too well. It took everything in me to stifle my eye roll. I did not, however, manage to do the same to my exasperated groan, and of course old Treebaun heard it.

“Something wrong, Cadet Fitz?” he asked, his voice lashing out like lightning.

“No, sir,” I said, sitting up straight in my chair.

“Good,” said Treebaun. “After Cadet Frost you can go.”