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I’ll have to remember to thank my future stepmother for putting me in this class. I swear the reason she does everything to me is so she can call for my father. But now that they’re engaged, she doesn’t need an excuse to see him. She could just call him and leave me out of it.

Once I grab my weapon, I close my eyes and try to become one with it. I’ve yet to really experience that on an average day in class. It always glows for me, but it also seems to taunt me. At least it came through when I needed to save my dad. I guess that’s something.

Earwyn makes her way over to me, smirking. “Ready, first-year?”

I hold my head high. “You know it, fourth-year.”

She curls her lips. “That doesn’t work. First-year is an insult. Fourth isn’t.”

I refrain from calling her Earwig—she wouldn’t even know what the insect is. Instead, I hold my trident closer. It warms and glows slightly.

“Finally getting a little control over it?” Earwyn smiles slowly, her eyes intense.

I ignore her and get into position.

“Five minutes,” Mr. Brant says. “No bodily contact. I just want basic sparring today. Your life isn’t on the line. Think of it as a match. Go!”

Earwyn lunges for me. I jump out of the way just in time. She was going for my arm! Anger pulsates through me, and the trident warms even more. Earwyn leaps for me again, this time aiming for my head. I swing my weapon at her. Miss by a nautical mile.

“Having fun?” She rushes at me.

I narrow my eyes and focus on her heart. Aim the points at her and jab it toward her.

She ducks and yawns. “Is that all you have?”

My arms are shaking—I think as a result of making that ball of magic. I do my best to hold them still. Last thing I need is her thinking it’s a sign of weakness when it’s from creating some crazy magic that left the teacher speechless.

Earwyn swings, barely missing my shoulder but slicing through some of my hair. I stare in disbelief at the chopped strands floating in the water. Anger surges through me and I race toward her, my trident growing warmer, glowing brighter. The tips make an electric noise. I can feel it melding with me, as if together we’re one weapon.

Color drains from her face. She holds up her blade in a defensive position. Scoots back.

My fury is replaced with power, the feeling that I could do anything. Overcome anyone. Including this pompous fourth-year who hates me for taking her suite and for being my father’s daughter.

“Match over!” Mr. Brant calls.

I’m already focused on my target. My trident is eager for the attack. Is urging me to go forward.

“Match over!” the teacher repeats.

If Earwyn’s face loses any more color, she’s going to create a new color that’s paler than white.

“Stop here!” Mr. Brant moves in front of Earwyn. “Match over!”

Energy drains from my weapon. I lower it.

“What got into you?” His face is as red as Earwyn’s is drained.

I pull the trident closer. “You’re the one that told me I’d become one with my weapon. She” —I glare at Earwyn.— “was attacking me! Not sparring. My trident was protecting me.”

Mr. Brant’s nostrils flare and his mouth forms a straight line before he turns from me and looks around at the class. “Everyone put your weapons away. We need to discuss the upcoming annual sparring competition, anyway.”

Everyone keeps clear of me as we make our way over to the cabinets to put away our weapons. Several people console Earwyn like she’s some kind of helpless victim.

Mr. Brant instructs us to have a seat on the mats. Nobody sits anywhere near me.

If only I could talk with my mom about this horrible day. Get her advice about the magic. But I don’t even have her.

Mr. Brant paces in front of us before stopping and looking around the room. “You are all in the competition this year against the other academies. You’ll need to spend extra time practicing, so I’m going to open the room for clinic hours. Sign up soon, because the spots will fill quickly.”

I can hardly pay attention to anything else he says. I’m going to be in a sparring competition with the other academies? Has he lost his mind?