The blade came from behind, silent, aimed straight for Logan's spine.
He heard it a fraction too late, his body still slower than it should have been after weeks of unhealed wounds, and he twisted just enough to avoid the killing angle. The blade caught his side instead, tearing through cloth and skin, and pain exploded through him as he stumbled against the training yard's wooden fence.
"Logan!" Finnian's shout came from across the yard, already running, a wooden practice sword still in his hand from the lesson he had been giving moments earlier.
The assassin did not pause to finish what he started. He pressed forward, blade raised for a second strike, moving with the trained precision of a man who had done this exact work many times before.
Logan raised his arm to block, knowing even
