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Alice and I arrive at our combat class just barely in time, and Ike clocks us immediately.

“Summer. A word.”

I grimace, and Alice throws me a sympathetic look as I walk to our combat instructor. He watches my approach with a strange expression on his face.

“I don’t technically think we were late?—”

“I have spoken with Max. He told me you are training with him.”

I blink. “Oh?”

“Max is a skilled fighter. I have asked him to lean more into the offensive. I will work with you here on your defensive skills.”

“Is this the case for every student who attends classes at the university gym?”

Ike’s lips twitch a fraction. It’s the smallest of movements, and I would have missed it if I weren’t looking at him. “No, but Max approached me. He asked for tips on the best ways to train your kind. Max’s classes are very popular on campus, but as you know, fae don’t train with others.”

I nod knowingly. “They do like to keep to their herds.”

Laughter dances in Ike’s eyes, but he just says, “Anyway, let me know if you have any questions. I will be checking in with Max, but I think this is for the best. You will learn faster in the one-on-one lessons, and I think the quicker you learn to defend yourself, the better.”

“O-of course. Thank you.” His words surprise me, and I wonder how much he knows and who told him. Maybe the headmaster spoke with him?

Ike glances at the rest of the class, obviously dismissing me. He claps his hands loudly, capturing the attention of the students.

“Two to a mat and one dummy per mat.” Ike’s voice rings out across the hall, yet he barely raises it. He crosses his arms, waiting for us to get into position. I hurry to join Alice on the mat she claimed for us.

Ike starts by demonstrating five different defensive positions. He spends the rest of the class going from mat to mat, watching each pair and making corrections where needed. Eventually, he calls time and dismisses us.

“I hate how sweaty I get in Ike’s class,” Alice grumbles as we walk to Elder Futhark runes. I wave goodbye to Alice at the door and sit at the front of the class, ignoring the stares of the fae already seated.

Professor Henley is drawing a large complex rune on the board. Students filter in loudly, but they quickly settle, obviously intrigued by the rune on the board.

Professor Henley turns to face the class. “Has anyone seen this rune before?” She looks over the class, waiting for raised hands. When none come, she nods. “Good. While this rune doesn’t technically fit within the Futhark alphabet, it was created by a native. Its original use was for good, but,” she reaches up, pointing to the top line, “this line is off by point one of a degree, and that makes for an unstable rune. It was initially created to assist in the building of a library. Instead, the rune took out an entire city, leaving nothing but rubble and ash blowing in the breeze.” She snaps her fingers, and the rune disappears from the board, the memory of it hazy and difficult to recall. “This lesson will be about the importance of rune accuracy. If you would turn the piece of paper on your desks over.”

I flip the piece of paper, looking at the runes laid out in front of me.

“These runes should all be familiar to you. Each of them is unstable, with varying consequences. Your task is to find and label the imperfections, providing a detailed analysis of what is incorrect. Then, draw the rune correctly next to the incorrect one. To continue with this class, you will be required to pass this exam with a hundred percent due to its importance. If you fail,you will be dropped to a lower-level course until your knowledge is at the level it needs to be. You have twenty minutes to complete.”

The room is silent. Everyone is looking at Professor Henley in shock, but I understand the need for this. Careless rune work can be devastating.

I look down at the first rune. It’s a simple rune used for heating water. The lines look correct, but I notice a slight deviation in the split curve at the top. Although this rune would not be effective in increasing the water temperature, I’m unsure if it would have catastrophic consequences. I quickly label the mistake and draw out the correction. The rest of the runes are pretty straightforward, and there is only one that could potentially cause a small fire. The rest of the class looks anxious as they hand their test papers to Professor Henley, but I pass it to her, smiling.

67

Summer

“Well, well, back again, former damsel?” Max smirks as I walk into the gym the next morning.

I decide I shouldn’t impale him until after the lesson and completely ignore him, walking through to the sparring room. I’m walking a little stiffly, my muscles tight and achy after our session and combat class yesterday. No doubt I overdid it, considering my injuries, but thankfully, I have been healing well.

Max leans against the wall and quirks an eyebrow. “How sore are you from one to ten?”

I stretch, but my muscles rebel as I try to loosen them. “A five,” I say, trying to hold back my winces.

Max snorts. “So more like a seven. You didn’t ice.”

I glare at him. “I was busy.”