Page 117 of Blade of the Nightking

Then he simply leaned back. Just leaned. The blade missed him by less than an inch.

“These lessons might be a waste of time after all.”

“I’ve been training just over two weeks!”

“And yet you seem to have picked up nothing at all. You’re sloppy, uncoordinated, and you have no instinct.”

I hated him.

Gods, I hated him.

I circled the mat. He didn't even bother to turn as I moved behind him.

“I'm not a killer,” I breathed. “Not like you.”

My words landed. A long beat passed.

“Perhaps Aedric had the right idea after all,” he said evenly. “Perhaps it really is in everyone’s best interest to lock you in a cell.” A muscle ticked in his cheek.

I froze. He knew. Somehow, he knew what had happened to me at Solmire. My breaths came fast and uneven, my hand trembling around the dagger. Beneath my skin, my magic reared once more, straining against my control as memory after memory crashed into me—Calantha's ember eye. The darkness. The searing bite of the collar. Agony. Confusion. Fear...

His expression faltered, just for a moment. His hand lifted to his chest⁠—

My magic lashed out. Every shard of glass littering the floor ripped upward before hurtling toward him in a glittering storm.

For the first time, surprise flashed across his face. He twisted away, one arm flying up to shield himself as the glass shrieked through the air around him. It was the opening I'd been waiting for.

I drove into him with every ounce of strength I had. At last, he lost his footing. A fierce thrill shot through me as he crashed onto the mat beneath me. I was on him before he could recover, one palm braced against his chest to keep him pinned while I drove the dagger toward his ribs, the dulled point hovering over his heart.

For one savage, glorious heartbeat, I had him.

Glass glittered in his hair. Thin cuts scored his face and throat, narrow trails of blood streaking over his cheekbones and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

For the briefest instant, I thought I saw something flash in his eyes.

Approval.

Gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

“You cheated,” he said calmly. I felt the words vibrate beneath my hand.

Breathless, furious, exhilarated, I bared my teeth at him. “You never said I couldn’t.” The dagger stayed fixed against his chest. “Do you yield?”

A low sound rumbled in his throat as his gaze darted briefly to the blade poised over his heart. But he didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes lifted slowly back to mine.

“Would you actually be capable of it? If our lives weren't tethered?” he asked, enunciating each word like a challenge. “Would you be strong enough, right now, to drive that blade through my ribs and into my heart?”

The question struck me like cold water. My focus wavered.

It was all he needed. His legs tightened around mine.

The world flipped. One second I was above him—the next he’d reversed us completely, trapping me beneath him before I could even comprehend how it had happened. His weight drove me into the mat, his body a wall of solid muscle.

The dagger was gone from my hand, its blunted edge now resting lightly against my throat.

I blinked up at him, disoriented.

Too close.