“How many of you have been called out as third-years?” Mira stands straight, folding her arms over her black leathers and the strap that holds her sword to her back. Emery and Xaden raise their hands, though Xaden’s is barely a gesture. Dain looks like his head is about to explode. “That’s not correct. We’re never called into service until graduation.” Xaden presses his lips in a tight line and nods, giving him a sarcastic thumbs-up.
