But there was nothing she could do about it. She’d been incapacitated for more than a day. Her magic flickered in her gut, but it wasn’t an inferno by any means. And her strength was practically nonexistent. Not to mention, her coordination. Whatever had happened in that spell had broken something in her. She had to hope that it would all come back.

“Argon,” Alura snapped. Kerrigan cringed at the sound of her father’s name in Alura’s mouth. “Are we taking a rest or completing the circuit?”

“Completing the circuit, sir.”

“Get to it.”

Kerrigan gritted her teeth and finished. Last but at least she finished.

“A sloppy mess,” Alura said. “Gods help us if the lot of you make it through training. Luckily for you, the sword master has already shown up for class today.”

And then a tall, dark figure walked into the training arena. Kerrigan’s heart dropped. Scales, it was Lorian Van Horn.

Not only was he Alura’s father and a revered sword master. He had also been the single loudest voice of dissent for allowing her into the Society. He would stop at nothing to get her to drop out of the program.

She squared her shoulders. Not happening.

16

The Masters

Lorian snapped his black robe off of his shoulders, revealing the silver metal attire of Venatrix. He was over six feet tall with black skin like his daughter, a shaved head, and a defined beard. He had a blade strapped to his belt.

Kerrigan had heard stories of that blade. A black blade with a vein of ancient Tendrille steel at its core and a pommel that melded to his hand. It had been in the Van Horn family for hundreds of years and had won him the dragon tournament against Kerrigan’s father. Lorian had defeated Kivrin Argon in combat to secure his place and keep her father out of the competition.

She didn’t hate him for it. Her dad had no place in the Society. Not that she much respected Lorian’s backward view on half-Fae and humans either.

“The sword,” he said, dramatically removing his from the sheath, “is an extension of the self. It must become a part of you, an extra length to your arm, for you to truly master the art form. Not all of you will.” He shot her a look of disgust. “Some of you haven’t even earned the right to be in these halls.”

Kerrigan balled her hands into fists as he called her out.

He stepped up to her. The sword held before him. He could have nicked her chin with barely any movement. She held firm. Not moving an inch.