No, I didn’t possess vampire speed. But my limbs were slightly longer than Visha's–than any student at Bloodwing. I might not have speed but I had something. Endurance. The very fact that Visha was starting to tire proved that, didn’t it?

Visha thrust her spear against mine and our weapons collided, my teeth practically rattling in my head at the impact. My back was up against the ropes again. I could feel the harsh lines cutting into the fabric of my tunic and digging into my skin.

The highblood students around us were jeering and laughing. Some were shouting taunts, others placing bets on how much longer it would take for me to be defeated.

But when I looked, Blake was no longer among them. He wasn’t across the courtyard either. So much for supervising.

I adjusted my grip on the spear, my stance becoming more balanced, more tightly grounded. I dug my feet into the dirt, preparing myself.

As Visha swung her spear in a wide arc, aiming at my side, I reacted as quickly as I could–ducking low and spinning away with a grace that surprised even myself.

The shift in the battle was subtle at first.

A well-timed parry here. A quicker step there.

I started to anticipate Visha's strikes, counter them with great precision.

The tables were turning.

I drove Visha back with a series of rapid, controlled thrusts.

And then, I saw my opening and took it and, shocking even myself, with a swift, powerful strike I knocked Visha’s spear right out of her hands, sending it clattering to the ground.

I leveled my spear at the other girl’s chest. “Yield.”

She glared at me, her eyes filled with venom.

But she had to know there was no choice.

Without a word, she turned away, her expression twisting with anger and humiliation.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Applause from my fellow students? Not fucking likely.

But as I turned my back and moved towards the ropes, I felt the thrill of victory mingled with relief.

I’d just started to duck under the ropes when I caught a twitch of movement in the corner of my eye.

Then Visha was on me, yanking me back by the collar of my shirt.

For a second, I gagged, the fabric of the tunic tight around my neck, choking me.

Then I was crashing down, my back slamming into the hard dirt of the courtyard.

Visha was a whirlwind. She landed on my chest, straddling me, all sharp edges and ruthless speed. Her fists connected with my face, then my ribs. I tried to shift onto my side and shove her off but it was too late. Her knee collided with my stomach.

Nausea swept through me as I felt ribs pop and break.

But another part of me was already fighting back, instincts charged.

Visha was still laughing as I drove my fist into her jaw. Her head swung to the side, but not fast enough for me to miss the lock of shock in her eyes.

She recovered quicker than I’d expected, her eyes narrowing in cold fury. Without warning, she grabbed a fistful of dirt from the ground beside us and shoved it into my face, rubbing it into my eyes and my mouth.

The gritty soil stung my eyes, blinding me momentarily, and Visha took full advantage. She grabbed the back of my head and smashed it back down again and again.

I screamed in anger. With a burst of strength, I shoved her off, and rolled to the side.

I crouched there, palms flat in the dirt, spitting out mud and squinting.

I felt like an animal. Like I’d been reduced to less than vampire, less than fae, less than mortal.

I was trembling with rage. Tears of anger were running down my face.

I’d fought a fae god, but even then I wasn’t sure I’d felt this much hate. That fight had been cold. Brutal, yes, but not dirty.

Visha came at me again, sharp nails outstretched, clearly aiming for my face.

I dodged and rolled, feeling the rush of air as she missed me by inches, and kicked out at her shins.

With a cry she dropped to her knees. I scrambled, intending to get past her but she was too fast for me. Her hand reached out, yanking me by the hair so hard I gasped.

She pulled me down beside her and punched me squarely in the nose. I heard a sharp crack and blood sprayed into my eyes.

Instantly, Visha’s fangs flared like white pearls and for a moment she hovered over me, eyes wide and dilated. She sniffed the air hungrily and I held my breath, expecting her to lose herself in a frenzy at any moment.

Then, as if with great effort, she shook her head and snarled. “You didn’t think you were actually going to get out of here, did you, bitch?”

She reached down to her side and I saw a flash of silver. A knife.

Visha still had me by the hair. Now she lowered her lips closer to my face. “You look good in the dirt. It’s where you belong.”

I started to lift my head, intending to smash her in the face with it.

“That's enough, ladies. Break it up.” The voice carried over the crowd, deep and resonant.

For a moment, Visha’s hand stayed poised over me. Then the knife disappeared into her palm.

“I said break it up. Get off her, Visha. Now. Or you’ll be packing your bags before nightfall. She beat you. Fair and square. I saw it all. But you decided you were done playing fair.”

I turned my head to see who was speaking.

An extremely tall man with dark ebony skin had appeared on the outskirts of the crowd of students. There was a noble air to his attractive face. His silver hair was tightly curled and closely cropped to his head. A gold ring hung from one ear. He stood tall with his legs spread and his arms folded over a broad, heavily muscled chest. Our instructor, I presumed.

Blake stood beside him. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the expression on the highblood’s face was one of worry. Was he afraid he’d be getting into trouble for what he’d allowed to transpire?

Visha hissed. “Combat isn’t about playing nice, Professor.”

“No, but it’s the first day of class and I’m not ready for our first murder,” the teacher said calmly.

I flinched.

The man sighed. “You cheated, Visha. There. Is that blunt enough for you? Get up.”

Visha slowly stood.

“This isn’t over,” she murmured as she looked down at me.

“You’ve got that right.” I spit out a mouthful of dirt and tried to ignore the smirk on her face.

“Give her your hand, Visha,” the man instructed. “Someday soon you’ll be fighting not just your fellow students, but ones from visiting academies. Show some fucking grace.”

Visha looked furious. She glanced once at the blood still trickling from my nose, then did as he said, holding her hand out.

“No fucking way am I taking that thing,” I said, heaving myself to my feet on my own.

I groaned and clutched my chest. I was pretty sure something was broken. A rib. Maybe two.

“Pendragon, to me. Everyone else, clear out and get back to work,” the instructor snapped. “There’s half an hour of class left and I expect to see you use it.”

I walked stiffly over to the ropes as Visha slunk away across the courtyard.

I could feel Blake there, standing beside the instructor, so I was trying not to show how much I hurt. But there was blood running down my face from my nose and into my mouth. I was panting and covered with dirt. And my chest ached everytime I breathed. I was pretty sure it was obvious.

Gingerly, I took up a position a safe distance away from Blake. I still wasn’t sure what effect the sight of my blood had on him. Would he lose control like Visha almost had?

“So, this is the already-infamous Medra Pendragon,” the instructor said, stepping forward as I came out from under the ropes. He gripped me by the arm and helped me down the rest of the way. “I’m Sebastian Sankara, your professor.”

“Glad you were able to make it,” I said, with not a little bitterness.

“Yes, well, you were the one out of place.” Professor Sankara touched a hand to his chin. “I’ve just checked the roster and you aren’t on it, Miss Pendragon. You weren’t supposed to be here. This class is for advanced students who have attended Bloodwing for at least one year.”