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“Well, that’s going to be a challenge for Leaf, I can tell you that much.”

“I know.”

“I see you are back to speaking in short sentences. You’re going to have to break that if you’re to tutor me.” The thought strikes me in an instant. “How are you going to teach me to use my Starwatcher magic as a Moon’cher?”

Castor crosses his arms over his broad chest. “That’s what we’ll have to work out now, won’t we?”

I roll my eyes as a bell tolls throughout the castle, signaling the top of the hour. I’ll be late to Old World History with Professor Allor if I don’t leave now.

Castor, having just been a third-stone cadet only just last year, understands my urgency. “We can continue our conversation later and come up with a more regular schedule.”

I swing my bag over my shoulder and ignore the way the giant history book jabs into my ribs. “Sounds like a plan”—I pause in the doorway—“Professor.

“The first three weeks of class were all about reorienting with your weapon of choice,” Commander Hogsmith says as he paces in front of us. The afternoon sun glints off his metal shoulder armor almost as much as his bald head as we stand clustered in the pits. The pocketed ground outside the academy is aptly named, as the topography of the land divots into circular holes from some long ago meteor shower.

Three weeks of training with my staff, and it already feels like I’m wearing a second skin. Or an elongated arm. Third arm? Anyway, I knew I had been drawn to Marrow’s old walking stick the moment it transformed into a golden staff in the wreckage of Goldenpine. The staff had been concealed for as long as I can remember.

Marrow took it with him everywhere.

I almost feel bad conjuring a myrage spell to conceal it once more into a regular looking practice staff. Well, regular with a slight embellishment of a music note or two at the top.

For Marrow’s sake.

“This week, we will be attempting something much more challenging,” the Commander continues. Ramona and I stand poised, like the rest of the other second-year cadets all awaiting this class’s test. Commander Hogsmith never holds back in his training, and I highly doubt this class will be any different.

A distant whinny fills the silence. Hooves clomp irritably.

Ramona leans in close. “You heard that too right?”

I nod, searching the surrounding field for the source of that sound.

A manic gleam paints the Commander’s face as he releases his myrage, revealing a group of war horses saddled and looking rather impatient.

“Fuck yes!” Ramona hoots.

“I’ve read so much about this moment,” Selene says in awe from Ramona’s right.

Tiny and Lux—Leaf’s and Castor’s mounts—seemed nice enough when we were traveling to the Watch, but these horses seem so… mean.

I shudder. “They’re all trained already, right?”

Commander Hogsmith laughs deep in his belly. “Cadet Nox, are you afraid of assigning yourself a horse?”

Sabra turns from her spot at the front of the class to sneer. “She comes from a softer background, Commander; you can’t blame her for that.”

The steeds stamp and snort behind the Commander, heat rolling off their bodies in waves that prickle my skin. Commander Hogsmith paces the line of cadets, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp with anticipation.

“You’ve met the mounts,” he says. “Now you convince them you’re worth carrying into war.”

A few nervous laughs ripple through the class.

“Two minutes to bond,” Hogsmith adds cheerfully. “Introduce them to your magic, see how they respond. Then we play Bannerfall.”

Of course we do.

I step toward an ash-gray steed, tall and narrow like it was carved for speed. Its eyes flick to me, assessing. I raise my hand and draw on my sun magic, slow and steady the way the instructors drilled into us. Light gathers, thin and pale.

The steed snorts. Not impressed.