She stepped onto the mat and turned to face the class.
Dozens of eyes stared back at her. Some curious. Some pitying. Most hungry—eager to see her fall.
Iva's mind raced.
*What kind of schedule is this?* She was supposed to be in the administration program. Paperwork. Logistics. Politics. Not combat. But Marik's class was required for every student, regardless of their track. And the academy did not believe in coddling.
No matter the program, no matter the student—everyone trained. Everyone fought. Everyone bled.
And today, it seemed, everyone would watch her bleed.
Marik pointed to a student near the front of the crowd. A massive wolf, easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders like a barn door and arms as thick as Iva's thighs. He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, a lazy
