Page 121 of Forcing Fate

“Later,” he growled, stalking past us.

His boots crunched on the packed snow before he stopped a few paces away, watching me from over his shoulder. He kept his back to me, watching me from the corner of his eye.

He wanted me to follow him? I clutched my things to my chest and took a tentative step in his direction. He grunted in approval and looked ahead, walking on. I cast a wary glance at Niehm. She reluctantly nodded, glaring at his back. I shrugged and followed the giant of a man through the barracks.

We walked for a good quarter of a chime to the training center. The structures stood empty, most with their giant rolling doors closed, though a few were open to the cold. I spied cadets in one, cleaning shields that were in a pile. I wondered what they had done to get the punishment when General Rafe stalked to an empty building.

General Rafe rolled open a door. The inside was sparsely furnished with a dirt floor and a single table off to the side.

“Master Niehm, do us all a favor and stay outside.”

I squinted at the General as he took off his fur vest and faced me. Niehm muttered curses, but strode over to the wide entrance and leaned against the frame. General Rafe waved at the table, and I placed my belongings down.

“Blades,” he demanded, holding out his palm.

I reached under my winter cloak and pulled out the bandit breaker. I still wasn’t comfortable with it. It was far different from any of the weapons I trained with.

I placed it in his palm, and he examined it, testing the edge. The bandit breaker was a small weapon. Its curved handle fit in my hand with ease. The blade arched out at one end like a bird’s talon, sharpened on both sides. A hole punched through the steel on the opposite end. It was meant to put my smallest finger or thumb through. It was wicked sharp, and honestly, I was a little frightened of it.

He slipped his smallest finger through the loop and snapped his arm out, giving the knife a spin. With a jerk of his wrist, he caught it with perfect precision. His movements were brisk and intricate. Somehow, he re-positioned his hand so that his thumb was through the loop. He gave a swift punch through the air and studied it again. Satisfied, he laid it on the table and looked at me expectantly.

I stared at him for a moment, wondering what else he wanted, wishing he’d talk more for once.

My other blade. Moving quickly, I pulled at the leather thong around my neck, lifting it high enough to tug at the two rings for a grip. I drew it from the sheath and handed it to him.

He tested the sharp edge against his thumb. “A push dagger,” he mused.

I tilted my head as he gave an approving grunt and set it down. His gaze sought me again, and he leaned a hip against the table, waiting.

“That’s it. I don’t have any others.”

I wasn’t even comfortable with those. Why would I carry more? What else could I carry?

His sharp eye traveled down the length of my body to my boots and back up to my eyes. I shivered against both the cold and his intense gaze.

“These blades are made to be extensions of you.”

He closed the distance between us and placed his heavy hand on my shoulder. I forced myself to be still even though every nerve in my body demanded I pull away. He trailed his hand down my arm, through my cloak, and pulled my arm straight. His touch was oddly warm for how cold it was. His calloused hand engulfed my own as he curled my fingers into a fist.

“How do you fare in hand-to-hand combat?” he asked.

I had to crane my head back to look at him. My heart raced, and I felt… odd. Lightheaded. Warm. Terrified. I tugged at my hand and frowned.

“Poorly,” I stated, and he released my hand.

In hand-to-hand combat, I had several disadvantages compared to my male counterparts. I was weaker, smaller, and had far less stamina. I lost every time.

“Figured.”

I glared, hearing his low comment. Of course, he figured I would be weak. He took a step into the middle of the building, giving himself space to move.

“Show me what you’ve learned.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, studying him. Surely, this wouldn’t be the moment he would beat me senseless. Perhaps he just wanted to see what I was capable of.

I took a few steps away from the table and relaxed my knees, bringing my fists to my chin. Watching his feet and muscles, I stepped closer and threw a punch at his stomach, pulling back so that my fist met nothing but air. I drove another fist at his chest, doing the same thing. In all honesty, with the height difference between us, I wouldn’t be able to strike at his face without giving him a huge opening.

If there was one thing I had learned well in hand-to-hand thus far, it was how to block. I dropped my hands to my sides and waited for his criticism that was sure to follow.

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