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I hangout on the outskirts of the sparring room. Today is assessments—Professor Emetterio will pair us with a sparring partner and judge our fighting skills. There aren't supposed to be any weapons or deaths in the sparring ring today, but this is the Riders Quadrant. No one really cares if you kill someone here.

I survey the other cadets. I could be put up against any of them. Right now, Ridoc and Aurelie are sparring on the mat. Aurelie is a fierce and talented fighter, with a strong punch and a solid stance. Ridoc has a smaller frame, but is no less strong. They're evenly matched.

Violet and Rhiannon talk about Violet's aptitude for history and Battle Brief, but I tune them out. I only tune back in when Violet says she's been trained as a scribe.

"Really?" I ask, my gaze not leaving the current match. Aurelie and Ridoc continue to circle each other, throwing quick jabs here and there but overall being very neutral.

"Yeah," Violet says. "My mother changed her mind last minute. I only got six months to train for the riders." She says this last bit under her breath, and I'm surprised that she felt we were trustworthy enough to even tell us at all. I suppose we are in her squad.

"Huh," I respond absentmindedly. Due to the lack of action on the sparring mat, my gaze shifts from Ridoc and Aurelie to the pair of shirtless second years sparring a few mats down. I can't say the majority of the men's decision to go shirtless while sparring isn't a distraction—they're all very toned and very good looking. Muscles.

"I'm worried about this," Violet says, nodding towards the mat.

"Really?" Rhiannon glances at the Sorrengail woman skeptically. "I figured as a Sorrengail, you'd be a hand-to-hand threat."

Violet shakes her head. "Not exactly."

Finally, Ridoc flies at Aurelie. The woman reacts quick, though, and sweeps out a leg to trip him. Ridoc trips slightly, but steadies himself immediately, coming back up with a dagger in his hand.

"No blades today! We're just assessing," Emetterio yells.

"What about you guys?" Violet asks Rhiannon and I.

Ridoc lets out a shorts groan while he sheaths the knife as Aurelie swings a right hook. He deflects it narrowly.

"The brunette packs a punch," Rhiannon states, and I nod. She's good, that's for sure. Maybe not as good as me, thou—shut up, that's rude.

"Shit, I don't want to hurt you!" Ridoc withdraws his hand after he lands a blow to Aurelie's ribs. I snort.

"Who said you hurt me?" Aurelie snaps back, glaring at the man.

"Pulling your punches does her a disservice. The Cygnis on the northeast border aren't going to give her any quarter because she"s a woman if she falls from her dragon behind enemy lines, Ridoc," Dain says. "They'll kill her just the same."

"Let's go!" Aurelie growls, and puts her fists up. She dodged a punch and twists around, landing a harsh blow on Ridoc's kidneys. She's definitely trained her whole life for the Riders, like me.

"I mean...damn," Rhiannon says quietly. "I'm pretty good on the mat. My village is on the Cygnisen border, so we all learn to defend ourselves fairly young. Physics and math aren't problems either. But history? That class might be the death of me."

"Me too," I say. "My tutors back home tried to teach me history, but I'd always want to go out and train instead, so my mind was always preoccupied." I smile slightly at the memory.

"They don't kill you for failing history," Violet murmurs. I can see her flinch when Ridoc sends Aurelie to ground by tackling her, but somehow she ends up on top, hooking her legs around his and twisting her body as leverage. It's a cool trick. I'll have to ask her how to do that. "I'll probably die on these mats."

"I could offer some tips to survive combat training." Sawyer peeks over Rhiannon's shoulder. "History isn't my strongest subject though."

"Enough!" Emetterio shouts suddenly, and Aurelie stands, lightly poking at her split lip. She helps Ridoc up, who is looking pretty damaged from the back and forth hits from Aurelie. "Cianna, take Aurelie to the healers. No reason to lose a tooth during assessment."

I watch absentmindedly as the older cadet walks out of the room with Aurelie at her side, and jerk my head around when Rhiannon says something. "What?" I ask. Gods, Wisteria, pay attention.

"I said that us three—" she gestures to Sawyer, herself, and I, "—could help Violet out on the mat if she gives us pointers on history."

"Oh! Yeah, sounds fine to me," I say. A little history help couldn't hurt. Violet nods in agreement as well.

"I think I'm getting the better end of that deal, though," Violet says, swallowing nervously as a few other cadets mop up the blood on the mat.

"You haven't seen me memorize dates." Rhiannon laughs. I grin at that, before an ear-splitting scream sears through the room. We all turn to see that Jack Barlowe has a smaller guy's head securely in his arms.

"That guy is such an ass—" Rhiannon is cut off by the sound of bones snapping, and we all stare as the other first year falls limply to the ground.

"Sweet Malek," Violet whispers, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as it gapes open in shock. I clench my jaw and turn my head away as Emetterio marches over to give Jack a good scolding.

"Eyes forward," Emetterio calls to the rest of the class. "You don't have to get used to it. But you do have to function through it." He glances  around the room before his gaze lands on me. "Wisteria Colland and Danny Grayham!" Professor Emetterio calls my name after a moment of searching and I move forward, trying to ignore the sight of the dead first year hovering insistently in my brain. I wear black, skin tight leggings and a long sleeve black shirt beneath my brown boots and vest. The soles on my boots are thick and provide good stability and grip. I walk a few steps on the mat, getting a feel for the material.

It's soft and somewhat squishing, my boots leaving an indent wherever I step. It'd be hard to slip with the sticky material of the mat and the treaded soles of my boots.

Finally my opponent steps up, and I almost give Emetterio a look to say 'can you put me against someone else?'. Danny Grayham is a small man, with slightly muscled arms and a light frame. He looks quick, but probably won't be able to pack a punch. He has floppy brown hair that almost covers his blue eyes, and wears a thin gray tank top and rider pants.

"You may begin."

We circle each other for about thirty seconds. Danny is obviously waiting for me to make the first move, and I step forward suddenly, catching the boy off guard. I don't swing quite yet, but Danny skips backwards and almost stumbles off the mat. All right. Evading will be his tactic.

His blue gaze hardens and he flies at me, feet quick. I pull my left arm in front of my face while my right clings to my chest as I spin to the side.

"Quit playing with him, Colland," Emetterio drawls, and I roll my eyes.

While the boy is still recovering his balance from his attack, I plant two hard punches to his face.

Blood immediately starts gushing from his nose. I can see him start to back away, so instead of going for a third punch, I sweep my foot in an arc and smoothly kick his feet out from under him. Danny lands on the mat with a groan, and I walk over and lightly place the tip of my boot on his throat.

"Yield." Danny immediately nods and I remove my boot, walking off the mat.

Violet stares at me, eyes wide. "Let's hope you get opponents like little Danny Grayham, for starters," I joke as Rhiannon is called to the mat.

Rhiannon deals with her opponent quickly, her strikes quick, calculated, and confident. "Do you yield?" She pauses with the man beneath her, her fist hovering a few inches above her opponent's face, ready to strike.

"No!" The man snarls, and flips Rhiannon over onto her back instead. But the woman takes him over quickly yet again, and ends up with her boot on his neck.

"I don't know, Tynan," Dain grins from the side of the mat. "You might want to yield. She's handing you your ass." I have to smirk at that.

"Fuck off, Aetos!" Tynan growls. His face turns red as Rhiannon presses her boot deeper into his throat, but the man still doesn't give in.

"He yields," Emetterio says, and Rhiannon gets off of Tynan, offering her hand to help him up, which he takes. Professors Emetterio's gaze scans the room, before pointing to a tall girl with half-shaved pink hair and a rebellion relic crawling up her arm. His outstretched arm swings to point at Violet, and it's all I can do to not immediately volunteer to fight instead. There's no way Violet is winning against this woman if she's truly as inexperienced as she says.

"Clearly your luck sucks," I mutter to Violet, giving her a slight nudge towards the mat. "Try to avoid her attacks, be quick. If you can get behind her, I figure your best bet is to jump on her back and get her in a choke hold. Try to push her forward instead of back, or else she'll land on you." Violet gives me a wide-eyed look and nods slightly. "Good luck."

I give her another nudge and lean back against the wall. Rhiannon joins me, a worried look in her eyes. I can hear the woman and Violet bickering, but can't make out the words. The rebellion marked woman lunges at Violet, and she dodges narrowly. Get on her, now! While she's unbalanced! But the partially silver haired woman doesn't read my mind, and gets knocked to the ground by an advanced move from the woman. Suddenly, Violet is pinned beneath her opponent's weight in the course of a millisecond. What?

"You can't use your powers in here, Imogen!" Dain yells. Ah. That makes sense. Imogen would've already manifested her signet, being in her second year as Basgiath. It must be super speed or something similar.

I see Imogen grab a dagger out of its sheath by her ribs once Violet is pinned beneath her, and I hold my breath as the older woman moves to sink the blade to the hilt in Violet's flesh. But I furrow my brow when Imogen pulls back and sheaths the dagger, pausing in confusion, which allows Violet to plant a punch to the side of her face and slip away. I'll have to ask her about that armor later.

"Imogen! Do it again and I'll kick you out," Emetterio shouts as the pink haired second year slams Violet to the ground and yanks her right arm back.

"Yield!" Imogen yells, and I can see her pulling my friend's arm back even further. If she does that much harder then that shoulder is going to pop right out.

I shake my head as Violet screams, "No!"

"C'mon, Violet! Yield, there's nothing you can do," I shout, my feet pacing without my permission. I try to hold still, but my anxiety gets the better of me and I have to keep walking back and forth in front of the mat.

"Yield, Violet!" Dain yells. I can see the worry plainly in the older man's gaze, feel him restraining from marching up there and yanking Imogen off of his friend. But he can't interfere.

"Yield," Imogen snarls, but still Violet keeps her mouth clamped shut, her face taught with pain as her shoulder snaps out of place. I can see the bulge where the bone protrudes out of its socket, but still Imogen doesn't stop.

"She yields. That's enough." Emetterio steps forward just as the sound of bone cracking fills the room and Violet lets out an ear splitting scream. Well, shit.