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Dristin goes to Coins, a safe bet as it has the most slots.

They’re readily accepting the majority of the nobles, with Wands filling the gap.

Sorza bids for Cups and is unsurprisingly accepted.

Even though she’s not a noble, she more than proved herself.

Another guaranteed slot goes to Alor with House Swords.

With her coin quivering in her hand, Luren approaches Myrion. I hold my breath.

His eyes drift to mine, as if to say, You vouched for her once, will you do it again?

Luren passed two of her three trials. Though she barely passed wielding.

She is not the strongest initiate here by almost any measure, except for one skill.

But it’s one that I think everyone else is underestimating her astounding affinity for and that I desperately want to keep personal access to.

I dip my chin, ever so slightly. Barely perceptible to anyone else, but Myrion sees.

“I accept your application,” Myrion says.

“May your heart always guide you, and the well of your soul never run dry. Welcome to House Cups.” He slips the medallion of the house around her neck, and Luren lets out a barely contained squeak as she eagerly takes her seat.

There are a few sidelong glances from other members of House Cups.

The number of remaining seats is dwindling, and when my name is finally called, only one seat remains for two initiates: myself and Eza.

His eyes drift to mine again, and we share a long and hateful stare.

Though his is twinged with smugness. He couldn’t end me with his cards or his dueling.

Couldn’t spill my secrets for fear of Kaelis’s retribution…

So this is how he thinks he’s going to win.

Even still, even after what happened on All Coins Day.

Even knowing I have Kaelis’s protection.

He still thinks he’s guaranteed that last seat among Swords.

Unlike some of the other initiates who had their choice of house, I have one coin weighing down my palm, and I stride over to stand before the King of Swords, Emilia. She regards me with a stone-faced gaze. Cool and calculating, but not cruel. She exudes pure authority.

“I make my bid for House Swords,” I say like I’ve no doubt that seat is mine. And not because I’m hoping Alor put in a good word…but because Emilia knows that I am the better initiate compared to Eza. Out of everyone, I deserve that seat, and I won’t flinch under her scrutiny and questioning gaze.

“May your mind be as sharp as your blade and your will unyielding.” Emilia’s voice is somber and serious as she places the medallion around my neck. “Welcome to House Swords, Lady Clara Redwin.”

Murmurs and gasps. It seems not everyone was as confident as I was.

“What?” Eza lets out something between a gasp and a yell. “I am of Clan Moon.” A pause. Alor tenses slightly at Emilia’s side as his eyes swing to hers. “You swore to me!”

“House Swords welcomes the swift in mind and body.” Emilia isn’t bothered by his outburst in the slightest; she carries on as if he hasn’t spoken at all. “We have accepted the best among this year’s initiates.”

He storms over, eyes filled with wild, rabid, panic-fueled hate. He knows what’s waiting for him and gives it voice. “I will not become a Marked. I am a noble. Nobles aren’t sent to the mills!”

“Take your place, Eza,” Kaelis commands. I don’t think I imagine the slight glee in his voice.

But he won’t listen. “You think this bitch is worthy to be among you? You have no idea who she really is.”

“If you’re truly a noble, then handle your failure with some decorum.” I project calmness with my words. That I’m utterly unbothered by his outburst and not quietly panicking about what he’s going to say next.

“She”—he thrusts a finger at me—“is not the noble you think.”

“Silence,” Kaelis snaps. “I will not have you tarnishing the good name of my future wife.” The prince strides forward with purpose.

But Eza is nearly upon me. “You have them all fooled. But I know the truth, and they should, too, you fucking liar. She’s the one who—”

My magic flares. An Ace of Swords flies from my deck as a burst of wind, toppling him. “Enough, Eza. I bested you once today, I will do it again.” My threat is as empty as my deck. I’m exhausted and don’t have the cards to make good on it. “Take your Mark with what little dignity you have left.”

With a red-faced roar, Eza scrambles to his feet, charging for me. Kaelis begins to run—he’s seen how empty my deck is; he was the one to remove the holster. I jump back on instinct, bracing myself.

Everything happens so fast that it doesn’t register until after it’s over.

A flash of silver. A sword appears in Eza’s palm that is gladly fueled by his bloodlust. He lunges for me. Kaelis is too far. My powers sputter.

And then there’s movement at my side that is little more than a blur.

Emilia is faster than any of us. She moves like the wind, leaping over the table. Eza falters, shocked by the woman who’s suddenly before him. But he recovers, not backing down.

Why would he? He’s a dead man either way.

Eza swings. Emilia dodges with ease, in the same movement drawing a dagger that mirrors the one I’ve seen Alor holding every night. I see the weapon, but Eza doesn’t. He’s still focused on me. I don’t move. I don’t even flinch, trusting in my luck—in Emilia.

The tip of Eza’s sword quivers at my cheek, having just missed its mark and nicking my jaw.

Emilia’s dagger dances across his throat.

He lets out a gurgling noise and collapses. He was supposed to be mine. The rogue thought is silenced by immediate horror. What does this mean?

“Let this be a reminder that House Swords will not tolerate attacks on its own.” She nonchalantly wipes her dagger on her napkin before sheathing it again at her hip. “Our blades are sharp and always at the ready to come to the defense of our loved ones.”

The other students hardly seem surprised by this turn of events.

But something shifts in the initiates. We all, collectively, realize just how little we’ve seen of the other two years of academy life.

The students have had their own classes in separate rooms. Their own dormitories.

Their own schedules and culture that we only now realize are truly an utter mystery.

As I sit, I wonder just how many empty seats that the initiates are taking were vacated because students graduated—and how many were left empty for other reasons. Is the academy as safe as they would have us think? I doubt it…The sword medallion is heavy around my neck.

Throughout dinner, I search for regrets, or doubts, but find none.

Kaelis barks orders, and Eza’s body is cleared as unceremoniously as Kel’s was and his blood is mopped up.

It’s as if he never existed at all. But what does stick with me, what’s heavier than regret, is the knowledge that he was Glavstone’s son.

And what he said at the end of our duel.

You going to kill me? Do it and risk the ire of Clan Moon.