Once again, she gives a huff, a sound with which I’m becoming very familiar.
“It’s a problem,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because those exercises are safe. The faster you advance, the closer you get to situations that can’t always be made safe.”
“You were hoping I’d be stuck on the basics for weeks.”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Well, then, what’s next?”
“Evasion.”
Without warning, she steps toward me and her fist flashes at my face.
I dart left, easily avoiding the punch.
Her glittering, purple eyes narrow at me. But she can’t be unhappy this time. By evading her, I saved her from ten strikes.
But of course…maybe she’s remembering the way I moved when she first encountered me. I was quick. She and her lackeys didn’t touch me with their power.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Don’t worry, Oracle, I’m fast enough to pull my punches if you aren’t quick enough to avoid them.”
She steps to the right, but her left fist flies at my stomach.
I jump back, again evading the blow.
She follows me, her fists flying.
I dart left, right, and back again, this time landing at a crouch.
“Damn.” Her arms lower to her sides. “Fuck.”
I rise upward.
I’d love to tell Lilis that I can evade all strikes, but the iron burn scar across my right side makes that a lie.
Fiercely, I shake off the memory of that moment. I can’t let my past fears and my interactions with Hadrian cloud my mind right now.
Lilis chews her lip as she glares at me, no doubt trying to decide what to do with me.
I speak a fraught truth—dangerous to acknowledge because it reveals my weaknesses and she could exploit that, but I can’t risk that she’ll stall my training.
“Evasion can only get me so far,” I say. “What I lack are the skills to fight back. Effectively and efficiently.”
Her fingertips drum her thigh.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll strap your hands today. When you’re ready to start leg work, we’ll use protective padding.”
Within minutes, she’s retrieved two long strips of material. Starting with my right hand, she describes what she’s doing as she slowly wraps the material around my hand, starting with my thumb, then around my wrist and palm and between my fingers, an intricate process that provides support for my wrist and creates padding across my knuckles.
“Now you wrap your other hand.”
It takes me four tries before I strap my left hand to her satisfaction. She pays close attention, correcting me if I wind the strap at an incorrect angle or leave it too loose.
After inspecting my hands and finally giving a grunt of approval, she leads me to the only thick, wooden pole that doesn’t have wooden spokes jutting out around it.
