Just a dream.
But the feeling of being hunted wouldn’t leave.
A guy across the room snorted, rolled over, and resumed his steady snoring.
My bladder pressed against my spine like a fist.
Slipping from beneath the blanket, I padded barefoot across the cold stone floor. The door creaked as I eased it open, and I slipped out into the arched stone hallway.
The corridor stretched in both directions, lit by flickering torches that made shadows waver across the walls. I moved toward the room with the facilities on silent feet, hyperaware of every sound in this place where my enemies slept.
The bathroom was mercifully empty and while I was there, I took time to lift my sleeping shirt and turn, examining my back in the mirror. Three slightly pink welts dissecting from my right shoulder to my lower back. I wet a cloth and gently blotted at them, though they’d never been open.
They hurt, though only deeply now. It would take time for that to heal. The pain in my chest from what my father had done would never go away.
After straightening my tunic and pants, I stepped out into the hall. The flutter of wings echoed from the area on my right.
I spun in that direction as a shadow detached itself from an alcove.
He was maybe thirty, had medium build, and was unremarkable except for the knife glinting in his hand. Brown hair. A forgettable face. I vaguely recognized him from the dining hall.
“I know who you are,” he hissed, leaping toward me with the blade aimed at my throat.
I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and drove my knee up toward his elbow. The joint twisted outward with a wet pop that echoed off the stone walls.
He didn’t even grunt. Instead, he twisted out of my grip and switched the knife to his other hand, slashing toward my chest in one smooth motion.
I threw myself backward as the blade whispered through the front of my thin sleep tunic, leaving a small slash. This wasn’t some desperate recruit trying to eliminate competition. This was someone with real skill, the kind of person Commander Thorne would have studied and respected.
He came at me again, the knife moving in patterns I recognized. His footwork was too precise, his balance too perfect. Military training, then. I suspected he’d been doing this for years for someone else.
As I ducked under his swing, his free hand shot out and grabbed the chain dangling from my throat. Addie’s chain with the pendant. The metal bit into the skin at my nape as he used it to yank me forward. A twist of his hand, and the delicate links cut off my air. Stars burst across my vision as he hauled me around, positioning me for a killing blow. I clawed at his grip, panic flooding my system as the chain tightened like a noose.
I drove my fist toward his solar plexus while wrenching my body sideways. The chain snapped with a sharp ping, and Addie’s pendant flew away, hitting the stone floor with a delicate chime. He twisted, taking my blow on his ribs instead of his throat, his knife swipe nearly opening my neck to my spine.
We separated, circling each other in the narrow hallway. Both of us were breathing hard now, the testing phase over.
He feinted left, and I ignored the move. When he committed to the right, I was already flowing into the form Thorne had beaten into my muscle memory. I shot my hand out, striking the nerve cluster in his wrist. His fingers spasmed, but he held onto the blade.
Stubborn fool.
He tightened his grip and stabbed downward. I caught his wrist with both hands, twisting and using his momentum to throw him against the wall. Stone shuddered under the impact, but he rolled with it, coming at me with a second knife in his other hand.
Two blades now. Fuck.
He pressed his advantage, alternating strikes in a rhythm designed to overwhelm me. Left blade high, right blade low. I gaveground, focusing on not dying as steel traced silver arcs through the torchlight.
The right blade caught my forearm, slicing through my tunic sleeve. Fire bloomed along my skin, and blood ran hot down to my wrist.
I smiled.
His eyes widened, and that moment of surprise was all I needed.
I flowed into the deadliest sequence Thorne had taught me. Three lightning-fast steps that brought me inside his guard. A twist of my arm sent his left-hand blade spinning away. It hit the floor and clattered down the hall. Snapping out, I plunged my thumb into the pressure point at the base of his skull. His right arm went numb.
The second knife dropped to the floor by our feet.
Pivoting, he tried to knee me in the ribs. I slipped sideways, caught his leg, and swept out with my other, removing his remaining support. He went down hard, his head cracking on stone.
