Page 64 of No One’s Daughter

After walking for at least half an hour, maybe more, I was already feeling more tired than I wanted to admit, while he clearly—obviously—didn’t look affected in the slightest. He’d marched us to an open green space in the middle of a park.

“Won’t those beasts appear if I use magic?” I asked, folding my arms as I eyed the open space.

“That’s what this is for,” he said, pulling a long pointed blade from his bag.

A fucking sword.

The metal caught what little light remained, and was etched with markings I didn’t even pretend to understand. He twirled it once in his hand like it was nothing.

“We were caught off guard last time,” he added. “That won’t happen again.”

He looked at me, really looked. Through hooded eyes, something dark and unreadable settled there, and before I could even process, he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

He launched himself at me without warning, and I only just managed to dodge, instinct dragging my body out of the way just in time as he passed where I’d been standing a second before.

“Focus,” he snapped. “That was too slow.”

“I am focused,”

“Not enough.”

He came at me again.

And again with no pauses, no explanation.

Just attack after attack, forcing me to react, to move, to keep up.

He nicked the side of my arm and still didn’t slow.

This didn’t feel like training anymore.

It felt like punishment.

For what, I had no fucking idea.

Every near-miss, every stumble, every millisecond I hesitated, he capitalised on it, pushing harder, faster, driving me back into the damp grass.

“Stop trying to think,” he barked. “React.”

“I am—”

“Too slow.”

I barely blocked the next movement, his grip catching my wrist and twisting, forcing me down before releasing me just as quickly.

“Again.”

Rain hit my skin, light at first. I hadn’t even registered when it started.

I was too focused on him, on trying to keep up.

But it grew heavier.

Fast.