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Every muscle in my body hurt. Bruises had formed on my arms and stomach from Cati’s blows. We’d both used wooden knives for practice, thank the gods, otherwise I would have been sliced to ribbons.
I’d never seen someone fight the way Cati did. It was as though someone had taught her a fancy dance that just so happened to involve killing people. When the men on the field watched her, their faces filled with a beautiful mix of admiration and fear.
She showed me no pity as she taught me how to block an attack, and I was grateful for it. Even as I sat in the clearing, too sore to join in the evening’s dancing, I was grateful for every blow.
She’d let me keep her knife and had given me a sheath so I could tuck the blade into my boot as she had. Having a weapon pressed against me felt lik
