Page 26 of Until the Stars Fall

I backed away from her, keeping my weapon up, but I faltered when my heel struck one of the training ring’s stones. Raven took advantage of my misstep. Sweeping her left arm up and out, she slammed her forearm into my wrist, forcing my knife to fall to the grass.

She didn’t stop.

In one fluid movement, she sliced her knife down my collarbone before quickly changing directions and slashing my ribs, cutting through my shirt with ease. Growling, I shoved her hard with both hands and crouched to retrieve my weapon. My fingers frantically searched the grass for the handle as I watched her regain her balance. When her foot came flying toward my face, I had to give up on the knife. At the last moment, I managed to get my hands up, but I failed to grab hold of her. Pain shot up my arm as she landed a kick against my hands. The blow forced me onto my backside, and I rolled onto my back, barely stopping my head from hitting the stones behind me.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand.

But then her earlier words screamed through my foggy mind.

Fight through the pain!

This was part of the training.

This was necessary.

This was what I told myself anyway in the mere seconds I had before Raven attacked again. Flipping her grip on her weapon, she flung herself toward me, aiming the blade down at my right shoulder. I managed to roll away from her onto my stomach just as her knife stabbed the ground inches from my face.

“Good, Lieke,” Raven said, her tone surprisingly encouraging.

I scrambled back onto my hands and knees, desperate to get off the ground and grab my knife, but she was already there, standing over me, poised to strike yet again.

I peered up at her and noted the silent apology on her face as she buried her knife in my back.

My breath hissed through my teeth as the needle pierced my skin and pulled the thread through, pulling the edges of my knife wound closed. Raven whispered yet another apology, but I still wasn’t sure I believed her. When a blast of pain shot through my back, I clenched my jaw tightly and willed myself to stay silent.

“You did good,” she said. I only huffed in response. “I know you don’t think so—”

“Don’t tell me what I think,” I snapped over my shoulder.

“You’re angry,” she said quietly.

Rolling my eyes, I stood so quickly that the stool I was sitting on toppled over. I spun around to face her. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling either.”

Raven blinked evenly at me, no sign of apology or regret in her expression, and pointed to my left shoulder. “I need to put some salve on it so it doesn’t get infected.”

I gritted my teeth and glowered at her, my nostrils flaring. “You stabbed me.”

She looked almost bored as she said, “I’m well aware of that.”

“You didn’t have—”

“Yes, I did.” I raised my brow in question, and she retrieved a jar from the ground and stood before she responded. “Remember what I told you at our first training session?”

“Obviously not,” I sneered.

“We’re not just training your muscles here.”

I scowled as I grumbled, “You’re stabbing them too.”

She ignored me. “This is part of teaching your mind to learn new limits in strength, courage, pain. Now turn around.”

Without another word, I obliged, relaxing as Raven applied the cooling salve over my injury. Through the tent’s open flaps, I watched as others in the camp strolled past. Some offered knowing smiles, while others conspicuously averted their eyes. One woman, though, approached us directly, a bandage peeking out of the collar of her shirt.

“Who got you this time, Caroline?” Raven asked casually.

The woman laughed and said, “Philip, this morning. Healing nicely though.”

Raven stilled behind me. “So the new tonic is working?”

---