The instructor of the fires approaches our group, expression grim. She's a severe looking woman with black hair in a braid so tight it looks like it must hurt. She has lean muscles that speak of combat prowess.

She murmurs something to our instructor, who nods and then cuts his eyes directly to me. My heart skips.

"Waters. You'll each complete one sparring match," he announces, voice carrying across our group. "The match ends when your opponent yields or can no longer get up. You," he says, beckoning me forward with one crooked finger. "You've been challenged by one of the fires. Go with Instructor Kyreen. She'll show you to your opponent."

"What?" Mireen gasps, her fingers briefly catching my sleeve.

"It's okay," I lie, forcing a smile even as panic screams through every nerve ending.

My stomach is in my throat as I follow the fire instructor toward the smaller group of fires. Raith towers over them, walking at the front with his terrifying gaze fixed on me as he stalks forward. I feel like a mouse being watched by a hawk—each step bringing me closer to inevitable claws.

"Am I allowed to refuse the challenge?" I ask, voice smaller than I intend as we cross the vast space between groups. I can sense eyes from all corners of the room tracking my movement, wondering what I could have possibly done to attract this kind of attention so quickly.

She looks down at me, her eyes a deep, simmering orange that reveals no sympathy. "No. Do you think you'll be able to politely decline when the Red Kingdom attacks an outpost you're defending? When they ambush your camp in the night?"

I swallow a sigh, steeling myself for what's coming. No escape, then. No mercy.

"Who challenged me? Her?" I ask, pointing at the beautiful fire girl with black hair who watches me with venomous contempt, her fists clenched at her sides so tightly I can see white knuckles even from this distance.

"Serena?" Kyreen asks, something like amusement flickering across her face. "No. Though she wanted to. Raith Hollow seems to have beat her to it."

Fuck me.

Against Serena, I might have had a slim chance of surviving with only moderate injuries. Against Raith, though? There's no chance in any hell. No gods powerful enough to save me from this. I might as well have been asked to fight a dragon barehanded.

The pounding of my heart forms a desperate rhythm of fear. Blood roars in my ears until it's almost deafening.

It's only me and the giant, scarred volunteer with yellow-orange eyes.

Each step toward the raised platform sends jolts of nervous energy up my spine, skin prickling with gooseflesh beneath the weight of so many watching eyes. Some students are already sparring on other platforms, the dull sounds of impact punctuated by grunts and occasional cries of pain. Most, though, have stopped what they’re doing to look our way.