In a vain attempt to blend in, I arrived for class twenty minutes early and sat in the very back row. I hoped no one would be able to recognize my face with my hood up.

As students began to trickle into the room, they treated me to sideways glances and hushed whispers. I made a mental note to myself not to whisper anything questionable during class. Even way in the back, I could hear everything as though they were sitting right next to me.

"Why did they want to kill her?"

"She's too young to be a Defender."

"Who studies three classes? Is she crazy?"

Hoping to disappear into another dimension, I sunk further into the uncomfortable wooden seat. I pretended to prepare my notes and began to doodle random figures.

I breathed a sigh of relief when two familiar faces walked through the door: Alicia and Marcus, the two Healers with me in the hospital. They smiled and gestured at me to sit with them. They sat right in the front row, to my chagrin.

Once I joined them, my classmates' murmuring began to subside.

We chatted until Professor Petrescu entered the classroom. I was relieved to find out she was unscathed from the attack.

Like most Risa, she had black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. Red hair like mine was rare among my people, probably thanks to some ancient human ancestor. Her formal ankle-length Healer robes swished as she walked past me, her ankle-high granny boots clacking as she went.

She gave the three of us a kind smile. "Good to see you back in good health."

Her teaching assistant followed soon thereafter, his face obscured by the hood of his emerald-green healer robes. They covered everything apart from his black leather combat boots and the collar of his black leather armor.

So Alicia was right. Defenders were indeed guarding classes to keep us safe. It would make sense in light of recent events, but why would a bodyguard wear a green Healer robe?

The assistant lifted his hood, and my heart leaped into my throat.

It was Peter.

So much for my promise to Bragda.

He gave me a brief half-lidded glance that made me shift in my seat. One that seemed to say, Don't breathe a word to anyone. All the women and some of the men stared at him.

"Oh, my gosh. He's Human," a student murmured.

"Hot," his friend whispered under her breath. "Check out that jawline."

"Nah, too pale. Nice lips though."

"Yeah, and those eyes? Hot damn!"

"He's a Rogue."

"Who cares?"

I didn't blame them. He was only a couple of years older than us, a third-year dressed in smart black leather armor. Some Risa fell for Rogue Guardians, the bad boys of the university. And he sported a trim, athletic physique--the kind one could expect of a runner or long-distance hiker.

Despite my lack of urges, I could appreciate his attractiveness. He must have worked hard to sculpt his body like that, and I admired that kind of dedication to health and fitness.

The Professor approached me and spoke in a discreet whisper. "I'd ask you not to wear your hood during class."

"Forgive me, Professor."

When I drew back my hood, the others began to murmur. They stared at the ribbons woven through my intricate copper braid.

"Whoa! Check out Red in the front row," one of the guys whispered. "Is she human, too?"

"Nah, man," his friend replied. "Check out her palms. The grooves, see? Gotta be a Risa."

"Damn! I'd tap that."

Ugh! Please...

"Keep it in your pants," Alicia hissed in a muted whisper as she turned around. "Can't you see she's celibate?"

"Chaff off!"

"Language!"

After Peter had arranged the white screen, his gray eyes rested on mine as he ran a hand across the black bristles on his scalp. He probably heard everything they'd said. I stared at my parchment notebook to avoid his gaze and tried to ignore the groans from my fellow students.

"Ohh, gods! He likes her?"

"Maybe he's just her bodyguard."

"Damn, I wish he was my bodyguard. With the emphasis on body."

"Good morning, class," Professor Petrescu began, bringing all the murmurs to a halt. "Today we will continue our discussion on Risan physiology and how it differs from that of Humans."

Peter rested a crystal orb on the wooden desk. With a flick of his wrist, the object emitted a bright-yellow light onto the screen. It projected an outline of two bodies: one was Risan, and the other was Human.

"What physical attributes can you see here?" Professor Petrescu asked the class.

She paused and waited for volunteers. Alicia raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Boldea?"

"Humans and Risa are compatible in almost every way."

"Thank the gods!" someone murmured in the back.

Alicia gave her a pointed look. "The Risa have grooves in the palm that contain recessed magical receptors Humans don't have. Manual ones on the hands, cervical ones near the neck."

Ah hah, so you're one of those students.

I shrank further into my seat.

"Correct, and what purpose do they serve?"

Alicia raised her hand again, but the professor ignored her and waited until someone else volunteered. Marcus raised his hand.

Oh, great! Both of you caught up already? Way to make me look bad.

Please don't call on me. Please don't--

"Yes, Mr. Negrescu?"

"They help us to imbibe any kind of natural energy," Marcus replied.

"What are examples of possible sources?"

He cleared his throat. "Any element will do. Sunlight, water vapor, air, fire, ice, earth, among others. Even the life force in plants, animals, or people."

"Yes, but we're not supposed to take life from people," Alicia countered. "It violates our Healer oath."

"What is acceptable?" the professor asked.

"Only plant life like trees because they offer us energy without any pain or suffering," she replied before another student could answer. "They offer energy more efficiently and can regenerate."

"I didn't say we should take it from people or animals, Alicia," Marcus countered in an insistent tone. "I was merely postulating that it was theoretically possible."

"Right," Professor Petrescu interrupted. "With that in mind, what other purpose do our receptors serve?"

I don't know what in Hades I was thinking. The words fell from my lips of their own accord.

"We can give our life force to others."

Everyone stared at me as though I'd just fallen through the ceiling. Peter curled his lip and gave me a pointed look.

"Correct," Professor Petrescu said with a smile. "In what instance?"

"To heal the sick or comfort the dying."

My throat turned dry when I felt Peter's stare. He didn't seem to have any qualms gawking at me despite my prominent white chastity ribbon.

"Very good." Her face beamed. "You've been keeping up with the reading."

"So did we," Alicia whispered under her breath to Marcus.

My face flushed crimson. More like personal experience.

Peter's gray eyes twinkled as he placed the professor's notes on the wooden lectern. I cast my eyes down on the parchment and scribbled down notes as quickly as I could.

"Professor, if I may?" Alicia asked. The professor nodded. "Our systems can also convert mana, which exits our receptors as spells."

"Quite right, Ms. Boldea," Professor Petrescu said as she walked towards the lectern. "That brings us to the topic of today's lecture, the Magic Production System found only in the Risa."

As she explained the topic, I dipped my quill into the inkwell and scribbled in a vain attempt to catch every nuance of her lecture. I even tried to make a rudimentary copy of the diagram. My rendition looked like a gelatinous blob. Turning it at right angles and back again, I scowled at my imperfect copy and wondered if I'd even be able to decipher it later.

"There will be no need to copy as handouts will be distributed after class," Professor Petrescu said, casting me a kind glance.

Ugh, now you tell me.

After the bell chimed, the class filed out of the room. The Professor gestured to me to approach her. As Peter put the equipment away, he cast furtive glances in my direction.

"You're ambitious and eager to learn, Ms. Alta," she said. "I think it would be prudent for someone to tutor you and help you catch up on the work you missed."

"Certainly, Professor," I replied. "I'd be most grateful."

"Especially with three classes." The Professor glanced at my ribbons. "In twenty years of teaching, I've only seen a dozen tricolored students."

I flushed again. "Where should I meet my tutor? In her office? Or in the library, perhaps?"

"You two can discuss it together," the professor said, gesturing at Peter. "Right, Mr. Sardon?"

Oh, gods, no!

"We most certainly can, Professor," Peter replied before I could protest. He turned to me as the professor was leaving the room. "When do your classes end, Ms. Alta?"

Once the professor had left, I scowled at Peter. "Are you kidding me? After everything that's happened you just want to pretend like--"

"Liselle," he drawled, "I'd be happy to discuss what happened, but you have to focus on catching up if you want to run three classes at once." He bent down to my ear. "Trust me, I know."

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain how you healed me."

He drew a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw spasmed. He did indeed have a chiseled jawline.

"I'd rather not discuss it here," said Peter. "It's not safe. Do you have any plans this evening?"

"Why can't you just--?"

He ignored me and continued. "There's a political gathering later this evening in the basement of The Hungry Goblet, and I'd be pleased if you could join me."

"I don't do politics," I said with a huff. "And I definitely don't do seedy bars with seedy people."

"If you want answers, be there." His cold gaze cut me like sharpened steel. "Or you can fend for yourself, and I'll tell the Professor you refused my aid. That will go over well, I'm sure."

"You're blackmailing me into a date? When you know I'm celibate?"

"This is no date," he said in an angry whisper. "We are on the brink of war, and we need your help. We want you and your sister to be safe. Unless you flee Minningen, this is the only way."

"We?"

He hesitated for a second. "The Defenders."

I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Do you think the peace talks will fail?"

He took a white card out of his pocket and handed it over to me. "Bring the card with you, or they won't let you enter. It's your choice, but I know you'll do the right thing."

Without waiting for my response, Peter grabbed his black bag and sauntered out of the classroom.