The ground was soaked.
Spring rain had moved through overnight quiet and persistent and when Vael and I walked out at first light, the training ground was all dark earth and flattened pale grass. The sky hadn’t decided to brighten yet. Morning smoke from the kingdom’s fires drifted lazily east, and somewhere on the inner wall a horn called out the change of watch.
Vael put a stave in my hands.
She didn’t wait for me to find my footing.
She swung.
I caught it on the upper third of my stave, the way she’d drilled into me three days ago. She swung again. I caught that one too. The third came harder much harder and the impact shuddered up my arm and deep into my shoulder like a bell being struck.
“Better,” she said.
She didn’t stop.
We went until the sun was fully up.
By the time she
