Aaric strode into the coliseum with the confidence of a prince, though for now it was hidden beneath his plain black riding leathers. His father's disdain for the dragon riders had always left a bitter taste in Aaric's mouth, but as he passed through the gates he pushed all thoughts of King Tauri from his mind.

This was his path, and he was going to master it if it was the last thing he did.

But as he looked around at the other students, Aaric couldn't help but feel out of place. These were not the courtly dances and feasts he was used to, not the vast courts and coordinated fencing of the Palace. No, this was the rough-and-tumble world of combat, where only the strongest and bravest would survive.