Sarah stood on unsteady legs and walked toward the arena entrance. The tunnel stretched forever, but then suddenly she stepped onto packed earth of the fighting area, and sound hit her like a physical wall.
Nearly two hundred students were on their feet, cheering and shouting. Some called her name—whether in support or mockery, she couldn't tell. Others were clearly betting, passing coins as they debated odds.
The arena floor was circular, perhaps thirty feet across, with thin white powder line marking center. Sarah walked to her position on the western side, heart hammering so loud she was certain the entire Academy could hear it.
Then Roderick emerged from the opposite tunnel.
If Sarah looked like a terrified carpenter's daughter playing at nobility, Roderick looked born for this moment. His Academy uniform was pristine, blonde hair perfectly styled despite afternoon breeze. He moved with fluid confidence of someone who'd trained for formal combat since childhood.
