Mikhail
The blade caught me across the ribs because I wasn't paying attention.
I should have blocked it. It was a basic move, one I could do in my sleep, but I was too busy watching Natasha walk across the far end of the training yard, her dark hair catching the sunlight, and by the time I realized my sparring partner had moved, it was too late.
The sword sliced through my shirt and into my skin. It was not deep enough to be serious, but deep enough that blood immediately soaked through the fabric.
"s**t, Mikhail!" Dimitri lowered his blade, eyes wide. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, pressing my hand against the wound. Blood seeped between my fingers. "It's nothing."
"That's not nothing. You need to get that looked at."
"I said I'm fine."
But word had alrea
