“Fine.” Her voice shakes. “Then train me properly.”
“Iam.”
“No, you’re—” She steps back, away from the reach of my sword. I let it disappear. “You’re holding back. You’re coming at me slow enough that a child could dodge you.”
I snort. “A child with faster reflexes than you.”
“If you want me to learn how to survive someone trying to kill me, then you need to behave like you’re trying to kill me.”
“I’ve done that once already,Moirthalen. It appeared to have the opposite effect, and you’re still here.”
“Then stop treating me like I’ll break!”
We lock gazes. There’s a stubborn set to her chin, and a spark in her eyes. My lips twitch.
“Remember that this is at your request.”
I move, and have her back against my chest with her arm twisted behind her before she can blink .
“You’re dead,” I whisper against her ear.
I release her and step back. She turns to face me, rubbing her arm. I don’t give her a chance to regain her balance, and wrap my fingers around her throat, driving her backward until she hits a tree trunk.
“Dead. Again.”
Her breathing grows ragged, sweat beads her brow, and plasters her tunic to her back. But she doesn’t complain and she doesn’t quit.
Every time I put her on the ground, she gets back up.
“Your footwork is still wrong.” I move behind her. “You keep crossing your feet, and tripping yourself up. You trip?—”
“You die. Iknow.”
I put my hands on her hips to adjust her position, and she goes still.
“Step left.”
She steps, and my hands move with her.
“Now right.”
She steps right. Her breathing has turned shallow.
“Again. Left.”
Her hip shifts under my palm, and the memory of her body moving against mine, the sounds she made, my true name spilling from her lips, fills my head.
“Again.”
FORTY-THREE
ALLERIA
I’ve lostcount of how many times he’s put me on the ground. I tryeverythingto stop him—roll the way he showed me, tuck my shoulder, turn the fall into something controlled. That stopped working around the sixth or seventh impact, when my muscles started refusing to cooperate and my reactions slowed to useless.
Now I just fall.
My back hits the dirt again, and I lie there, staring up at the sky. My lungs burn, my ribs ache. There’s dirt ground into my palms, my elbows, the side of my face. I’m sure a bruise is forming across my hip where his knee caught me during a sweep heclaimsI should have seen coming.
