The Glades arena was dedicated to training Sumbria’s finest.

  Not its most skilled or strongest. No, just the nobility, since nepotism was the only pass you needed to enter the building.

  Once inside the large halfmoon-shaped structure, I waved at security on my way to the archery grounds. I was a familiar face to the staff, and no one stopped me on my way to the second level.

  The Glades was circular, with the building itself wrapping halfway around the magically separated open-air combat areas. The ground floor was reserved for training anyone under Level 20, and each ring climbing into the sky was designed to challenge stronger and stronger warriors.

  As everyone thought I was Level 30, I should’ve been relegated to the second floor, but no one stopped me as I climbed up to the third floor.

  Placing top 5 in the tourney on floor two afforded me the privilege of advancing higher.

  It had been a risk, which was why I'd never outright won a tourney. I always hovered between fourth and third place every year, and so far no one suspected my abilities were stronger than they appeared.

  “Lady Peregrine, welcome.” Baron Hestian greeted me on the third floor. The elf bowed once and then offered to take my cloak. “Are you wishing to practice today, or complete a challenge?”

  Because the Glades was reserved for the aristocracy, it hired nobles exclusively.

  “I can’t stay long, so target practice.” I told him and Baron Hestian handed Lishinia a leaf key with the number 3 painted in silver on the front.

  I was about to walk to my room when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “If it isn’t the Fern girl.” Duke Marigold, son of the Duke of Nordon, walked down the stairs from the upper level. Three attendants followed just behind him.

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  “Your Grace,” I bowed deep. Marigold was nephew to the crown, and only a few years older than I was.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” Marigold sneered, “You were treelocked until your departure on the morrow?”

  I felt the bead of sweat trail down my neck. The royal family relished finding the slightest faults within their court, and I desperately came up with a half-truth on the fly. “I have been, Your Grace. This visit isn’t for fun - I’ve been ordered by my father to do a practice shoot before I leave - I need to be ready to protect the Crown Prince with my life, should we face danger on our journey.”

  “Oh really? With your skills you’d only be a burden.” The duke shot me a twisted smile full of malice. “Tell me, are you still only at Level 30?”

  “Thirty-four, Your Grace.”

  Marigold lifted a hand and waved one of his attendants forward. “How are you going to defend the Crown Prince on your journey if you’re so weak? Lord Mandrake, if you would?”

  “What is your wish, Your Grace?” The elf who'd stepped forward was pale white with black hair and bright green eyes. He was in his late twenties, and the second son of Lord Marshwood.

  He was also Level 42.

  “You will challenge our Countess.” Duke Marigold said, then addressed me, “I’ll offer you this; if you score one point on Mandrake, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

  “On your word, Your Grace?” It was insulting, but I wanted confirmation. Duke Marigold might be insufferable, but unlike his cousin, the elf actually had a sense of honor attached to his pride.

  The duke stiffened, “Of course.”

  Baron Hestian immediately summoned a new leaf key and handed it to the duke, stepping back to let the group into the challenger side of the arena.

  Lishinia and I followed at the back.

  This room was reserved for duels, and set up with a seating area overlooking two platforms. I took the left side and Mandrake stood on the right.

  “Countess Fern,” My opponent nodded once, politely, before lifting both hands and summoning a thin dagger between each finger.

  “Lord Mandrake.” I returned, summoning my own weapon.

  His level let him throw six blades at a time, while I was stuck at three arrows.

  Still, it wasn’t hopeless.

  I took a deep breath and drew my bow string, ready.

  The dueling area had soft sand on the floor stretching out a hundred steps. Magical targets would appear in quick succession after the bell rang, and whoever scored the most points hitting the centre of the target would win the duel.

  With the sound of the bell, I released my breath, and started firing.