I heaved a deep sigh and shook my head, unwilling to process it all.
“Endymion?”
“Yes, Nyleeria?”
“May we please throw some blades now?”
Delight crossed his features.
Endymion turned me to face the tree line, the waves now at our backs. With a slight movement of his hands, targets made of shimmering light floated in the air. My eyes widened, and I looked toward him. He smirked, and this display of magic wasn’t even a fraction of the power he could wield. My own source rumbled in response, and I willed it back to sleep. She couldn’t come out—not today, anyway.
“Seven-inch blade?” he asked.
“Six-inch, double-edged, blade-heavy.”
He raised his brows, and that smirk appeared again. “Six-inch, double-edged, blade-heavy, it is, then.”
Out of thin air, a bandolier of blades appeared in his hand. He held it out, offering it to me. I hesitated for a moment, remembering I was still wearing averytight gown, but I’d be damned if I was this close to blades and didn’t throw them. At least the nylon would stretch with my movements, and all the targets were forward facing, meaning I didn’t have to worry about tripping over my skirts.
My hand dipped from the bandolier’s unexpected weight as I accepted it. Holding it up revealed nearly double the number of blades mine could hold. It was far too big for me, but I’d manage. I slipped it over my head and let it fall across my body. I must have looked like a toddler wearing their father’s boots, but damn did the weight feel good.
“This is your bandolier?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I was surprised that the blades faced the proper way for me.
“So, you’re a southpaw, but you throw right?”
He grinned. “Never know when you need to throw a punchanda blade.”
I rolled my eyes at his answer, so male, then focused on the targets.
Shifting into my throwing stance, I twisted my lower body digging my feet deeper into the sand. I preferred firmer ground, but I would make this work. I blindly felt down the leather with my fingers, getting acquainted with the new setup—how far the blades were from each other, what angle they lay on, how they’d be harder to free toward the bottom. Accounting for the oversized bandolier shifting as I threw, I’d have to take advantage of the double setting, pulling back and forth one layer at a time as opposed to working my way down and then up again. Still, I’d probably have to use a hand to hold it in place as I moved down—meaning I’d have to move faster than usual to rebalance as I went from pulling to throwing.
Feeling ready, I stared down the targets and took in a deep cathartic breath, allowing the world to melt away.
It was just me, the cool metal between my fingers, and the targets.
With a flick of my wrist, I let the first blade fly.
Oxygen. Throwing blades was as easy as breathing. It didn’t matter how long I’d been away from it, every fiber of my being remembered. I was sure, certain, unwavering, confident…full.
Grab. Throw. Thunk. Grab. Throw. Thunk. Again and again and again. The air whined into the silence as the force of the blades cut through in pursuit of their quarry. One after another, the targets were snuffed out until my hand went to pull another blade, only to come up empty.
All the targets were gone, along with the blades.
I took another deep, satisfied breath and stood up tall, tilted my head toward the glittering stars, and thanked the gods for this moment—this grounding, life-giving moment. My heart pounded, and my lungs greedily pulled in air. It had been a while since I’d exerted myself like this. Too long.
“Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness, still staring up at the stars.
“Again?” Endymion asked.
Normally, I would have jumped at the opportunity to continue to throw, but in this moment, I was satisfied, happy. And with that realization, the exhaustion I’d held at bay took over.
“No,” I said, my voice weak. “I want to go back.”
Without a word, the bandolier vanished, and Endymion held out his hand for me, then valenned us to the doors of the villa.
