The sword struck the practice post while I was trying to read the booking board. I lost my place and started the line again.
A second strike came before I reached the end.
The public ring had three practice lanes along its outer side and a marked space in the middle for supervised pairs. Most of the names on the board had been written small enough to fit several into each block. Across the afternoon lines, one large entry occupied the width of the page. A house tutor had reserved the center. Earlier names had been crossed through and shifted into the margin.
One of them was Ashveil.
"That was our hour."
I turned.
The girl at the nearest post had crimson hair cut to her shoulders, with the shorter strands sticking to her forehead. A scar crossed the exposed part of her upper arm above a leather guard. She held a practice blade loosely at her side; the loose grip did nothing to make the way she watched me reassuring.
Liora Ashveil.
