Val jumps back onto her feet, rolling out her shoulder with a grin. “Come on, Amund. You could’ve gotten a counter-attack in there.”
“You can do better than that,” Father calls. A taunt disguised as praise.
But he’s right. I have to do better.
I have tobebetter.
I go on the offensive like I learned when training with Nils. Each time I strike at Val, I see my terrified brother. Our spears clash, far stronger than Nils ever could manage. Facing my brother never feltlike a fair fight, not when I was larger and stronger. So I held back.
Or tried to.
Harder,Father would urge me.Don’t go easy on him just because he’s your brother. Coddling does him no favors. It will only get him killed faster.Nils was never good with weapons, but that didn’t matter to Father. He made us both train until we were breathless and soaked in sweat.
If I held back, Father would take my weapon from me and strike at Nils far harder than I could. If either of us cried, it made Father more relentless.Only the weak cry,he would shout. All I could do was stand and watch, hating every second of it. When it was finally over, Nils would ask me,Why didn’t you just do what he wanted, Amund? Better you thanhim.
Val strikes, snapping me back.
With a quick spin, I bring my own weapon down, slicing through her spear’s wooden shaft. The tip drops into the dirt as Val clutches the useless end. There’s no way she can make me bleed now. But I can’t bring myself to harm her when she’s weaponless, either.
Not when I can still see my brother, knocked on the dirt and whimpering at my feet.
I hesitate now, just like I hesitated back then.
I can’t do it.
Father’s dark eyes glint with disapproval—
Val sends the wooden edge of the spear straight at my face.
I knock it aside easily.
A distraction. She’s crouching low, picking up the spear tip. With a practiced motion, she throws it at me as if it were one of her daggers. She’s clever. Just like Nils. What my brother lacked in strength, he made up for with his mind. Too bad Father wantedboth. Something neither of us could offer him.
I dodge—but not quickly enough.
Blood trickles down my arm.
With a grunt, I glance at the slice from the spear tip. Another scar.
Another loss.Great.
“That was fun,” Val says with a coy smile.
She walks over to me and quietly adds, “You know I hate losing. We good? No hard feelings?”
Nodding, I trade my spear for her broken pieces. “We’re good.”
Val grins, turning toward the students. “Who’s next?”
Father clears his throat. “Be seated, Amund.”
His voice is tight. He must be livid, even though his outward expression betrays no hint of the tempest within him. Unlike me, Father is a master at hiding his emotions. Sometimes I wonder if hehasany.
As I leave the ring, Idris pats my shoulder. “Excellent technique.”
I shake my head. “I still lost.”
“Even so, you did well, Amund.”
