And, for some reason, he's standing in the middle of us waters and talking to me.

He looks at the others, who are watching us openly. "Fuck off," he growls.

Eyes jerk away and people flinch back like he's a lion that just roared.

Except Malakai and his soldiers, I notice. They're watching Raith with calculated stares. Stares that don't make sense, unless they're really so bloodthirsty they'd go after people outside our affinity.

"It's okay," I say to Mireen and Ambrose, who linger, even though they look like they want to scatter with the rest of the students.

At least I hope it's okay. Raith wouldn't kill me right here, would he?

But I see he's studying the weapons, then returning his focus to me. His eyes scan my body, and for a moment, I wonder if he's actually checking me out.

He reaches and gives my arm a squeeze, then frowns, as if not entirely pleased.

"What?" I demand.

"You need to take your training more seriously. You're still… squishy."

"Excuse me?" My jaw drops in indignation.

I know I must be imagining it, but I almost think the corner of his mouth twitches upward at that. "Short." He's still staring at me—assessing me. "Somewhat weak. But fast. Hmm." He strokes his sculpted jaw with big, calloused fingers. "Smart…"

Smart? I'm not sure how he knows enough about me to assume that, but⁠—

Before I can respond, he moves past me, selecting a thin-bladed sword with a simple crossguard. It's shorter than a full-sized sword but longer than a dagger.

"This." He offers it to me, handle first. "Emphasis on speed and precision. Quick thrusts rather than hacking power. A thrust is faster than a slash. The blade is short enough that you should be able to strike first against anybody with a longer weapon. Against a shorter weapon, you'll use this to keep out of their reach," he says, tapping my temple.

I take it hesitantly, testing its weight. The balance is perfect, the blade an extension of my arm rather than a burden. "Why are you helping me?" I ask, suspicious of anything resembling kindness in this place.

"You intrigue me." He steps closer, making my breath catch and filling my nose with that strange but intoxicating scent of his. "And I don’t think you’re as weak as you let on.”

Before I can press further, he walks away, rejoining the fire offerings on the other side of the arena. They've already selected weapons, and they're training cooperatively, rather than trying to kill one another like the waters and airs do.

It's ironic, in a way. Before coming here, I was told fire and earth primals were all spies for Red Kingdom. Those who weren't spies, they said, just hadn't turned coat yet. They were painted as the animals and the ones to fear.