Page 44 of The Incendiary

I gripped my four-centuries-old blade and centered my stance. “If it’s so annoying, why are you still standing there?”

He folded his arms across his chest, smirking. “Throw the knife.”

My eyes narrowed. The last thing I needed was for him to see me fail at this. I could throw, but I missed the bull’s-eye. A lot.

“Don’t you have commander duties to fulfill?”

“Sure, but I have a feeling this will be more entertaining.” He gave a stiff nod toward the target. “Go on. Throw.”

Before long, I would be able to give him commands. That reminder was all that assuaged the irritation I felt at the thought of obeying him so readily.

Focusing on the target, I flicked my wrist and let the blade fly. It nicked the edge of the wood and ricocheted into the dirt a few feet away. I bit back a groan and braced myself for his laughter.

Surprisingly, it never came.

I could feel his stare tracking me as I moved to where my blade lay on the forest floor. He was quiet while I returned to my throwing spot and repeated the motion.

I missed even worse the second time. And the third. And the fourth. After the fifth, which flew thirty feet past the target on a wide miss, he finally spoke again.

“I have to admit,” he called after me while I retrieved the knife, “I wouldn’t have bet on you against your opponent today. I’m impressed with your hand-to-hand skills.”

Ignoring him, I returned and threw again. The knife struck once more, closer this time, but still a few inches too wide of the bull’s-eye.

“Your knife-throwing skills,” he sighed, shaking his head and pushing off the tree, “not so impressive.”

I scowled at him, which only earned me an amused chuckle. Outside the fortress walls, he seemed oddly… lighter. I wasn’t sure if I appreciated that or not.

“Your grip’s off,” he told me. “You must find the balance point. Pinch it between your fingers, blade upright, facing you.” He motioned for me to hand him the knife. “Give it here.”

My eyes narrowed. “Are you going to give it back this time or hide it away again?”

He laughed coolly. “Unless you try to slit my throat during the handoff, I’ll give it back.”

It felt like betrayal to let him touch it, but if I showed a weakness, he could use it against me. Still, my arm was heavy as I handed it over. Elias met me halfway and took the blade’s handle between two fingers.

Without even properly angling his body, he lifted his arm and with a simple flick, sent the blade careening toward the tree, slicing through the air. It landed in the center of my hastily carved target, the throw graceful and effortless.

He retrieved the knife, carrying himself with a quiet arrogance that made my blood boil. Elias Winterton knew exactly how smooth he was.

“Come here.” He motioned to my mark in the dirt, but I kept still, unsure I wanted to go any closer. He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to show you how to do this or not?”

When I closed the distance, he took my right hand. I forced myself to ignore the tingle spreading up my arm and the feel of his palm against my skin.

Those hands had struck me just days ago. They weren’t overly callused, rough, or at all scarred. And they were kinder and gentler now than I’d expected. His touch didn’t linger, and I didn’t despise how it felt to have him arrange my fingers around the center of the blade’s hilt.

And yet, I still wanted to leap into the nearby creek just to wash him off me.

“Adjust your grip depending on how far away you are from your target.” He showed me how, then released me. I gripped the blade as instructed, just an inch or so more centered than usual, but kept my wary gaze on him. “Try it.”

How embarrassing it would be to miss again, even with his help. Aurana, Goddess of Gravity, could levitate objects, but thus far all I’d been able to do was make a few rocks wiggle on the ground. I couldn’t even discreetly use that power to save my pride.

I focused on the bull’s-eye and the smooth flick of my wrist as I threw. The motion felt the same as I’d practiced, but the tip of the blade struck true, only an inch away from the target. I stared in pleasant surprise.

“Hmm. Good.” Elias looked annoyingly satisfied as he strode over to retrieve the knife. He removed the knife from the tree and returned, studying it closely. He rubbed his thumb over the crown shape of the pommel, and possessiveness rushed through me. “This blade’s important to you. Why?”

“It was given to me,” I answered, removing a strip of cloth from my wrist to tie my hair off my sticky neck. Though the air was crisp with an early spring chill, the afternoon sun was hot. Besides, occupying my hands also kept me from lunging forward and snatching my blade back.

“Given to you by whom?” Elias’s gaze lingered on my neck, now bare save for the chain that held the silver rings hiding beneath my shirt. He stared a little longer than felt comfortable.