Autumn Rose. Abigail Gibbs

the wildfire gossip network had kicked into action once again. Most settled on the banks nearest the school buildings, whilst a few of the older, bolder sixth formers continued on with us towards the very end of the field. When we stopped and deposited our bags, they carried on to a sunny patch in-between the trees.

      ‘Right, no weapons and the first to retire loses. But don’t push yourself too hard, we need to keep a shield up to protect the students.’ He began unbuckling his scabbard from his belt and my eyes, without seeking my permission, wandered down. ‘I don’t suppose you’re the type to put a wager on this, are you?’

      I blinked a few times and shook my head, hastening to cast my own sword aside, along with my flimsy shoes – they would only get broken.

      He began backing away, and as he did, I felt the buzz of a shield erupt from the ground up. It rose above our heads, enclosing us in a dome forty feet high. He continued back, a smile appearing on his face. I recognized that smile: it was the smile he wore for the media; a wry grin of quiet confidence.

      ‘I should warn you, duchess: I won’t go easy on you.’

      ‘No, Your Highness,’ I responded, adding my own magic to the shield. My muscles tensed and I was shocked by how quickly it was draining me. It was then that I questioned what on earth I was doing. I had as good as admitted to him in the car the week before that I hadn’t used any serious magic for well over a year; in contrast, he had the best education and disciplined training money could buy.