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Mendex and I met up with Miles and Amica at dinner, and either everyone in the dining hall forgot what happened last night, or they were really good at pretending they had. When I asked Miles where the hell he was last night, he claimed that it took longer to find Stella’s family than he thought, and that by the time he came back, I was gone. I believed him, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.
After dinner I dragged my feet to the training room, and I was surprised to see that Bennett had actually beaten me there. He wore traditional training leathers, as did I, and was stretching in the middle of the floor with his back to me. Even in the leathers I could still see the definition of his muscles straining against the material.
I cleared my throat, so he was aware of my presence.
“Stretch,” was all he said. So, I silently joined him on the mat and stretched the different muscles in my arms and legs beside him. We went on like that, stretching in silence for a few minutes. In most circumstances, I felt like small talk would have occurred, but there was no conversation. However, for some reason it was a comfortable silence, at least on my end. I didn’t feel the need to try and keep a conversation going with Bennett. It wasn’t awkward, and I enjoyed the quiet.
Unsure of how this session was going to go, I decided to just take a step back and let Bennett lead. I didn’t feel like planning anything out for this.
“So, what’s the plan then? Rematch in hand-to-hand combat?” I asked.
Bennett crossed his legs and stretched his neck. “No. As much as I would love to see your face when I’m not going easy on you, my father specifically said that we needed to train how to work together, not against one another. There will never be a moment during this mission where we will need to fight the other.”
I lay down on the mat and let out a sigh, stretching my limbs to where I looked like a starfish. “Then what do you suggest?”
He was silent for a few minutes. Pondering the possibilities of what we could work on.
“I think I have an idea.” He shot up from his sitting position on the mat and walked over to the other side of the room where the practice targets were placed. He began to drag targets one by one onto the mat until there were five placed side by side in the middle of the room.
“Archery?” I asked with a raised brow, assessing the targets.
“No.”
He walked over to the weapons rack and grabbed some throwing knives.
“So, we are practicing our aim?” I asked. “How is that helpful?”
“Patience, Rhiannon.” He walked back over to me and handed me a knife.
All right, I’m getting annoyed with people always telling me that.
He gave me a coy smile. “We are going to play a little game.”
I sat up, intrigued. “How do I win this game?”
“Actually, in this case it’s we. See the five targets I placed?”
“I’m not blind,” I answered bluntly.
He ignored the comment. “The two of us need to develop a kind of intuition for the other. In order to win this so-called game, the two of us have to hit the same target.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “That doesn’t seem that hard.”
“It is when you don’t know which target the other is throwing at. The two of us will throw our knives at the same time and attempt to both aim for the same target. You and I will close our eyes and silently choose a target to aim at. On the count of three we will open our eyes and throw. By doing this we won’t be swayed by seeing the other’s body and where they could possibly be aiming.”
I pondered the idea of trying to learn and understand Bennett’s habits, and I was actually looking forward to this little game. “Well, what if we just get lucky and both aim for the same one the first time?”
He twirled the knife in his hand. “In order for us to win and for our training session to be over, we need to both hit the same target ten times consecutively.”
My jaw dropped. “How the hell am I supposed to know which target you’re aiming at?”
“That’s the point, Rhiannon. We have to learn to become in sync with one another. To know by instinct which target to throw at.”
I didn’t understand how I was supposed to know which target Bennett would aim for, but I’d play his stupid game just so he could see for himself how we were doomed to fail.
“Fine, let’s try it.” I pushed myself up off the mat and joined him in the center of the room, eyeing the targets. I positioned the handle of the knife in the palm of my hand, readying myself to throw it.
“Okay,” Bennett said, “close your eyes, and on the count of three throw the knife to the target you think I will also aim at.”
