It was no surprise that Mariette led the charge. Trynne’s mouth went dry as she and Captain Staeli were rushed from all sides. Her magic flooded over, rising in response to the threat she faced. During the last months, she had trained with multiple foes, increasing the number by one every week. At the Battle of Guilme and before, she had felt limited by her supply of Fountain magic. The only way she had found to increase it was by self-discipline and practicing against more and more foes. In the months since the battle, she had increased her store of magic considerably and could fight without stopping for nearly an hour. Sometimes, she was so at one with her magic that it felt as if time itself slowed to a crawl and she alone could move while her enemies labored to attack her.

These tests always wore her out, sapping her magic until it was gone, and even then she’d continue to fight until she was physically exhausted and could barely stand.

The girls could not all attack at once, and she could defeat any of them individually. The test came from protecting someone else, in this case Captain Staeli, which was what she had trained to do. She was the king’s protector. She was going to become his champion.

As the magic swept through her, she reacted on instinct alone. She blocked not only the attacks aimed at her, but also the attempts at Captain Staeli. Hers was defensive magic, and she could sense every person coming against them. She did not wait until the attackers got close, but came forward and blocked and countered with crisp efficiency. Her magic pinpointed her enemies’ weaknesses instantly, allowing her to disarm them or knock them back. After training for so many months, they had all gotten better and better.

But it was impossible to face multiple foes without getting hit. Her armor protected her from fatal wounds, but every thrust that made it past hurt, and she wished she had her father’s magic scabbard to heal her wounds. Grunting and breathing hard, Trynne swiveled and pitched and kicked her way through the women attacking her and Staeli. The captain was not a docile defender himself, and the two of them together were a formidable pair.

Yet wave after wave of girls kept coming, most of them fresh and eager for a chance to prove themselves, and Trynne’s arms started to grow heavy and tired. She could feel the edges of her magic shrinking, pulling in tighter and tighter.

Suddenly five organized themselves to launch a simultaneous attack on her.

“Tychos!” Trynne shouted, invoking a word of power. The attackers struck an invisible wall and crumpled against it, falling to the courtyard floor.

“How’re you . . . feeling, lass?” Staeli said with a gasp.

She could hardly breathe and uttering the word had left her winded.

“Quite well,” she managed to say. “You?”