“I shouldn’t,” he says. “It’s not how things are done.”
“How did you end her life?” I need to focus, not flirt with him. “She was breathing, then she was gone. Like she fell asleep.”
He walks over to the target and pulls the knives out, then returns to where I’m standing. He hurls one at the target. It bounces off the center then clanks on the ground. His brow furrows, and he runs his thumb along the edge of a blade. “These are dull.”
“Brevan. What did you do?”
He drops his arms to his side. “I don’t know if I should answer. Nobody, I mean nobody, knows of this gift. Not Caiden. Not even the emperor.”
“You can make people die?” I ask, horrified.
“No, not unless they’re already heading there, I can speed it up. Make it peaceful.” He’s looking down, as if ashamed by his actions.
“That’s a beautiful gift.” I touch his arm and when he looks at me, I smile. “Really, it is. If something were to happen to me that put me in that situation, I’d like for you to make it peaceful.”
“You won’t be in that situation because I’m going to help you learn how to stay alive.” He grabs a knife by the point, then hands me the hilt.
“I thought we had to do balance first?” I ask.
“You and I both know that’s going to end badly.”
I don’t disagree, so I take the knife.
“Now, when you have a knife like this, you have to account for the weight. If it’s unbalanced, like these dull blades are, you have to adjust for that. Every weapon will feel different. Will throw differently. Unless you carry your own personal daggers on you everywhere you go, you should practice with a variety of knives to get a feel for how they respond.”
“Alright.” I’m surprised that I want to learn. And not because the skill would help me, but because it seems to matter to Brevan. I don’t want to let him down.
“Try it,” he says.
“You’re kidding, right? Just throw it? That’s all the information I get?”
“Try it first, then I’ll help you adjust,” he says.
I grip the handle, point down, then lift my arm and throw. The blade doesn’t even reach the target and I’m standing embarrassingly close.
Brevan laughs.
“Hey.” I shove him. “You did that on purpose.”
“I didn’t expect you to be that bad,” he says.
“How about you actually teach?”
He grabs another knife, holds the hilt, then shows me how to line it up with the target and aim. There’s a certain way to flick your wrist when you throw that he makes look effortless. It can’t be that hard.
My next four throws all land on the ground. I groan. “It looks so easy when you do it.”
“You’ll get there.” Brevan moves behind me, then grips my wrist with his hand. He guides me through the motions, his body pressing into mine as he does.
My pulse races. My face heats. The places where his hands are touching me feel like they’re on fire. I don’t want him to back away. I want him to get even closer. To move that hand on my stomach up or down. To explore.
He wraps his other arm around my waist, then rests his palm on my stomach. “Keep your core tight. You’re twisting at the last minute, which will change your aim.”
I clear my throat and step away from him. “I think I’ve got it. Let me try.”
I throw that knife like my life depends on it.
It hits the target.
