I hang back, studying my options while others rush forward. Most gravitate toward longer swords or spears, weapons that keep enemies at a distance or look like they could cleave somebody in half. I'm not sure what would suit me—something light enough for my frame, but not so small that I'm forced within grappling range of larger opponents.

"Not those," a voice says close to my ear.

I had been looking at the spears, wondering if I'd be strong enough to use something like that to keep people out of reach.

I turn to find Raith standing behind me. As always, his presence makes my body light up like an electric storm—nerves firing and skin flushing. I didn't even hear him approach. He shouldn't be here—this session is for water offerings only—but nobody challenges his presence.

Of course they don’t. If one thing has become painfully obvious since our first day, it’s that Raith is far and above the best of all the offerings. He’s feared and respected in equal measure, even by some of the instructors.

"What?" I manage, startled by his proximity. He smells like campfire smoke and something else I can't name, something that makes my pulse quicken, something dangerous and intoxicating all at once.

I see Raith almost every day, but he generally doesn't seem to remember I exist. By all accounts, I’m average in most subjects and far below average in channeling. I can tell most instructors have already assumed I won’t survive Confluence Day and are focusing their efforts on more promising students.

I've even heard students half-jokingly call him The Burned Prince, and I can hardly blame them. Common belief seems to be he’ll be a top ranked primal in Empire's army by the time he graduates. I even overheard a pair of students speculating about how he might tether an older elemental on Confluence Day, which supposedly hasn't happened in decades. Young elementals tether us. Older elementals either have past tethers and scars from the deaths of their humans, or they've chosen not to get involved in the conflicts of men.

"Problem, Saltcrest?”

I flinch, realizing my mind had gone elsewhere as I stared at him. Saltcrest. He does remember me, then. And I still have no idea how or when he found out where I’m from.

Mireen and Ambrose have both taken what I assume are involuntary steps away from Raith. Even with the weapons on display, the other waters are also watching him with mixtures of wariness and awe.

I shake my head, heat creeping up my neck. "Just trying not to imagine somebody skewering me with one of those."

"Be the one doing the skewering, then," Raith says simply.

Easy for him to say. I don't think Raith has even come close to losing a sparring match since he arrived. Even if someone did want to kill him, they'd have no chance. He's untouchable. Hardly even human.