The latest assassination attempt was a tedious reminder of how much more training I had to go through before I could truly relax. When Professor Gas announced we’d spend half of today’s knight class in lecture, I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Outside, frost patterns crawled across the windows, which rattled with each gust of winter wind. I understood why we stayed inside. I just didn’t like it. The auditorium’s limited space meant only a few could spar at once, leaving the rest of us to watch and listen.

  As the lecture stretched on, our instructor unrolled weathered parchments across the front table, revealing our second-year course options, one of which we had to choose before winter’s end. My eyes widened in surprise. There were quite a few paths available, each illustrated in vivid detail. According to Professor Gas, the curriculum somewhat mirrored the Mercenary Guild’s classification system for its members.

  First came weapon-focused specializations for close combat: Blademasters and Lancers who dedicated themselves to mastering the deadly arts of sword and polearm warfare. Next came the Cavaliers, who would master riding their warhorses, and the Vanguards, who would learn how to encase themselves in armor so thick they would become walking fortresses. There were also some options for those who preferred ranged combat, but I had magic for that, and it wasn’t of much interest to me.

  Then there were knowledge-based specializations: Tacticians, who would lead their own troops into battle, and Scouts, who would undertake more covert missions in forest and urban environments alike. There were also Guardians, essentially future bodyguards to the most influential members of society. Finally, Slayers who dedicated themselves to destroying monster nests and hunting dangerous beasts.

  For the ambitious few who managed several courses simultaneously as I did, rarer specializations emerged like mythical creatures: arcane warriors who incorporated runes and spells into their martial prowess and holy warriors who learned how to chant prayers while fighting and imbue their own bodies with blessings to become even stronger. From what we were told, specializations change frequently depending on teacher availability. In the past, there were even beast tamers at the Academy.

  I caught the familiar musk of pine and iron that always clung to Ulf’s coat. Without turning my head from the parchment, I asked, “Ulf, are you going for the scouts? It seems like a natural path for our kin to take.”

  “Nah, bro.” His voice rumbled low in his chest, the way it always did when he was excited. “I want to be one of those plate armor-wearing knights.”

  “For real?” My ears perked up involuntarily, and I blinked in surprise. I tried to imagine a wolfkin in full plate armor, tilting my head as I did so. How does one even design a helmet for our muzzles and ears? And what about boots, that must be a nightmare. I absently touched my own pointed ear, trying to envision it flattened beneath a metal cap.

  Ulf’s red eyes gleamed with a childlike wonder, competing with his otherwise hellhound presence. “Yeah. I once saw such a knight when I was just a pup, passing through our territory. The ground trembled with each step he took.” He clenched his fists as he continued. “They’re like living mountains of steel. No need for skulking in shadows, simply march straight through enemy lines, crushing everything in your path. Nothing purer than that.”

  “I suppose.” I glanced at Ulf’s broad shoulders and powerful frame. For a brute with paws the size of dinner plates who wasn’t even an adult yet, it did make perfect sense.

  Ulf nudged me with his elbow, the movement sudden enough to jostle me, and asked with a grin, “And what about you?”

  I traced the outline of a spear on the parchment with one claw. “I’m torn. The way a spear feels when you thrust it, that perfect balance point just before impact, I’ve always loved that. But this year, I’ve grown to appreciate the balanced weight of twin swords in my hands, the way steel catches light as it arcs.” I sighed. “Choosing just one weapon now feels like abandoning half of what I’ve built, especially after the investment I made in a personal set of weapons.”

  Ulf’s tail swished with uncontrolled excitement. “You commissioned your own weapons? Can I see them sometime?”

  “Sure. Visit me at my home when the weather gets better, and I’ll show you.” I shook my head, refocusing. “As for the scout's path, it makes perfect sense, Uncle Flo taught me a lot after all, but…”

  Ulf leaned closer. “But?” he urged, the tip of his tail flicking with interest.

  “What’s the point of studying what’s already in our blood? Every wolfkin pup learns to move silently and track prey before they can even speak.” I gestured toward the parchment where monstrous creatures were illustrated in vivid detail. “Right now, we have an opportunity to really challenge ourselves, so I am thinking the slayer track.”

  Ulf’s eyes lit up like embers. “Oh, that is cool, too. Monsters are tough enemies to deal with, all teeth and claws and unpredictable movements. You’d have to learn each one’s weaknesses and strengths.” His massive paw clapped my shoulder. “For someone as brainy as you, it’s a good fit.”

  “Probably,” I admitted, tracing a claw over the illustration of a basilisk with its hypnotic eyes. “I know embarrassingly little about them. During my rite, I only killed one goblin, scrawny thing, too. Nothing to write home about. Never faced any other monsters just yet.”

  “Just one? Pfffft.” He laughed, throwing his massive head back to expose canines that gleamed in the dim light. “During my rite, I had to tear through a whole den of them, little green bodies flying everywhere.”

  I lowered my muzzle and whispered, “And your ‘observant’ didn’t interfere?” It was tradition not to talk about the rite with anyone who hadn’t passed one. Keeping the details a mystery for everyone else was an unspoken rule.

  “Nah, my pops knew I could handle it.” Ulf’s massive canines gleamed as he smiled, the red of his eyes catching the dim auditorium light. “Although he did admit he was worried for a moment there. Well, that made the two of us!” he chuckled, taking a moment to reminisce about something that was probably quite gruesome.

  Ulf’s ears swiveled at the sound of Luciana’s boots clicking against the stone floor. “How about you, Princess? Tactician, maybe?” he asked, towering over her slender frame.

  “Ghost of a chance that’s happening.” Her dark eyes flashed with determination as she tossed her head, lips curled into a predatory smile that belied her delicate features. Her fingers, callused from countless hours of swordplay, drummed against the hilt of the practice sword at her hip. “Blademaster. All the way.”

  “Respect,” he rumbled, his fangs gleaming as he grinned. “Nice to see royalty can get their hands dirty too when push comes to shove.”

  “Us royalty can get our hands dirty, but it doesn’t mean we have to.” Thomin joined the conversation, his silk-trimmed collar catching the light as he tilted his chin upward. “See, something Luciana doesn’t seem to understand is that if she dies in combat, it puts her whole kingdom at risk. The royal bloodline is what keeps it all together after all.”

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  “Yes, because never once in the past has one bloodline simply been replaced by another.” I parried with a smirk.

  Thomin looked at me, one eye twitching beneath his perfectly groomed brow, but he let my comment slide with only the slightest tightening of his manicured fingers.

  “With that said, we do have to learn all the skills we can muster to lead effectively, and to know our vassals’ limitations firsthand.” He flicked his wrist, the gold ring on his middle finger catching the light as he gestured toward the practice circle. “So, let’s spar, Luciana, and show them the difference between those born to follow and those born to rule.”

  “You had me at ‘let’s spar,’” she answered, already tying the leather cord around her golden hair to keep it from her face. A circle formed around them as students abandoned their conversations, the air suddenly electric with anticipation.

  “Now, now. You two were told you can’t thpar together.” Professor Gas’s distinctive lisp cut through the growing excitement as he pushed through the crowd.

  Luciana’s eyes flashed with challenge as she stepped toward Professor Gas. “Professor, you’ve ranked Zar, Thomin, and me as the top students in class, yet you keep us separated. Zar had the chance to go against Thomin in exams. When will I get my chance to prove myself against someone as strong?”

  “Well, you will thpar with third years once you join the thecond year… but you do have a point.” He stroked his chin. “Very well. But I expect maturity and no lingering rethentmentth afterward.”

  I bit back a snort. That ship had sailed long ago. Still, I held my tongue. Luciana had been waiting for this chance to cross blades with Thomin since our first day at the Academy.

  Thomin gave the professor a diplomatic smile. “Rest assured, Professor, my friendship with Prince Aleamme remains unaffected, as does the alliance between our kingdoms. I merely wish to test whether Princess’s… obsession… has been worth neglecting her royal obligations.”

  “I haven’t abandoned them,” Luciana countered, already striding toward the circle, her back straight as a sword blade. “A ruler should be strong enough to defend what’s hers is what I believe.”

  Once both of them took their positions, Professor Gas launched into the usual bit about the fight being sparring, not a duel, but his words barely registered. The crowd pressed closer, their whispers growing louder as coins changed hands in furtive exchanges, gambling that the faculty pretended not to notice, being powerless to prevent it anyway.

  Luciana and Thomin collided in the center of the circle, training blades ringing against training blades three times before I could even blink. She pivoted on her heel, her sword flashing in an arc that Thomin barely deflected, the impact sending vibrations up his arm.

  Her feet barely whispered against the stone as she pivoted for the next attack, her stance wide and unwavering even as she rolled beneath Thomin’s sweeping blade. Unlike my own fighting style, she didn’t go for his wrists, and her legs never lashed out in kicks. She focused on her blade entirely, which moved as though it were simply another finger on her hand, precise and merciless.

  Sweat already beaded on the brows of students watching from the sidelines, yet surprisingly, fighters themselves seemed to be unbothered by the prolonged sparring. Luciana’s stamina has improved substantially in just a year. She once admitted that she even trained before and after going to sleep, much to the dismay of Gieffroy and her maids.

  At this point, her stamina probably surpassed mine. We beastkin have natural advantages there, but also hard limits. Without sweat glands, we can only push so far before we start panting. Once that starts, and if we don’t stop soon, collapse follows. No amount of willpower prevents it. Magic seemed like my only path forward: arcane to cool my body, divine to strengthen it. Something to focus on during my next year at the Academy.

  Thomin was clearly struggling now. Sweat plastered his raven hair to his forehead, and his once-pristine uniform darkened with perspiration around the collar. Luciana pressed forward relentlessly, her makeshift ponytail whipping behind her like a lion’s tail as she drove him back step by step across the stone floor.

  Her blade now found openings in his defense, a cut across his forearm, a nick at his shoulder, though none registered as lethal by the magic inside their training blades just yet. Then, something unexpected happened. Their blades locked at the hilts. He leaned in closer to her, his lips whispering something that dissolved into the clamor of the crowd.

  Her eyes, usually sharp as a hawk’s, dilated into vacant pools of darkness. Her body went rigid, fingers still wrapped around her weapon but frozen in place as if time itself had stopped for her alone. That momentary paralysis was all Thomin needed. With a triumphant snarl, he twisted his blade and sent her stumbling backward. She collapsed to her back. In one fluid motion, he slashed his training blade across her exposed throat, the enchanted weapon flashing a bright crimson light that signaled his victory.

  Furious at what I just observed, I rushed to him, my claws scraping against the stone floor, the crowd parting before my rage like water around a warship’s prow. “What did you do?” I demanded, the words tasting like copper in my mouth.

  “Oh, so the genius doesn’t know everything after all?” He smirked, his perfect teeth gleaming beneath lips curled in satisfaction. “Well, you saw what happened. I won the fight.”

  I growled at him on instinct, baring my teeth, sharp canines visible against my lower lip, as my ears flattened against my skull. The fur along my forearms bristled beneath my uniform sleeves, and he was so infuriating right now I couldn’t control myself.

  “And the beast finally reveals itself,” he drawled, eyeing my transformation with theatrical disgust. “Might put you in pretty clothes and teach you a few tricks, but deep inside, still an animal, aren’t you?” He brushed me aside with a manicured hand, walking away with shoulders squared in smugness. I forced my claws to retract, my breathing to slow, and moved to Luciana’s side, where she still lay stunned.

  I knelt beside her, pressing two fingers against the pulse point at her wrist. The slow, sluggish rhythm beneath my fingertips felt wrong, nothing like the thundering heartbeat that should follow such intense combat. “What happened? You had him cornered.” I searched her face, noting the glassy sheen in her usually fierce eyes.

  She pressed her palm against her forehead, golden strands of hair escaping her leather cord to stick to the sweat on her temples. “I… I don’t remember.” Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  “You know you’re not allowed to lie to me?” I insisted, ears twitching forward to catch every nuance in her response.

  “I truly don’t,” she murmured, her fingers digging into her scalp as if trying to excavate the missing memory. “Did he use magic?”

  I shook my head. “No, I was watching like a hawk. Pretty certain there was no mana movement at all during the fight. Not even the faintest shimmer of arcane energy or the telltale distortion in the air.”

  “I have no idea what happened,” Luciana whispered, her voice cracking. “Just one moment, we were fighting, I could feel the vibration of his blade against mine, and the next I was on the ground, staring at the ceiling with you checking up on me.” She gripped her shoulders, fingers digging into the sweat-dampened fabric of her uniform until her knuckles whitened. “And I thought I was getting stronger…”

  I placed my paw over her hand, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. “You are strong, much stronger than Thomin. That’s no lie. I’ve watched you train until your hands bled and your legs could barely hold you upright.” My ears twitched forward with determination. “He did something, some kind of dirty trick that leaves no trace. I swear by the heavenly family, I am going to find out what it was.”

  Luciana waved her hand dismissively, her fingers still trembling slightly. “You already have too much on your plate, don’t worry about it.”

  I leaned closer, my tail swishing behind me. “Hey, ‘life is cherished’, remember?” I quoted a part from our blood oath. “I worry cause I absolutely don’t want Thomin of all people to have an upper hand over you. I am going to do some digging at the library when I have the time.” My claws scraped lightly against the stone as I helped her stand up.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes regaining some of their usual sharpness as she brushed dust from her uniform. “I might join you. I might have… focused a bit too much on brawn over brains this year.” A rueful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Dirty trick or not, I did lose. Just gotta find out how to prevent it from happening again, like you with your soul thing. I now have some extra homework to do.”

  I offered her a fist bump of support, which she returned with her usual strength, much to my relief. Next year is certainly going to be even more interesting than this one was.