into the air. Whatever she’d thrown—a horseshoe maybe?—winged his calf. He landed hard, feeling the shock of the object’s impact only when his feet touched the ground. Pain seared up his leg. But still he ran.
Pain is nothing, he told himself, keeping his eyes ahead and his vision still. Pain is nothing. My mother went through much worse. My grandmother showed me much worse…
Maud wouldn’t call out to him again; the following object would come without warning. He was turning the corner at the south end of the yard when he saw the next flash of motion. He threw himself down and rolled, as a large rock soared through the air. Before he was back on his feet, another came. He leapt up, barely pulling his legs out of the way in time. And then another object, and another.
“Very good!” Maud called. “Much improved!”
John knew better than to slow down or look at her. Already a new barrage was coming his way.
“If you’d done this well in your training with Briac,” she pointed out, “you wouldn’t have had to betray Quin.”
The words were said as she said everything—evenly, steadily—and yet they stung as though she’d slapped him. She was trying to distract him, and it was working. I didn’t want to betray her. I loved her. But she wouldn’t help me.
An object caught him in the ribs. It was only a small stone, but Maud had thrown it so hard, it felt for a moment as though he’d been shot. He stumbled to the side but somehow managed to keep moving forward.
“Focus!” called the Young Dread. “Do not look at me.”
She was throwing again, using both arms. In his peripheral vision, he thought he saw her bend toward the disruptor as though she would pick it up and aim it at him.
She won’t do that.
“Your mother wanted to raise a traitor,” she said as he ducked one of her missiles. “She wanted you to be ruthless.”
“I’m not a traitor—” John yelled, taking the bait and turning toward her.
A series of rocks hit him in the chest, immediately knocking him from his feet. He landed hard on the gravelly surface. I’m not a traitor, he thought angrily. And she only wanted what was best for me. He pulled himself up to standing and rubbed his chest, which felt like it had been pounded by a hammer.
The Young Dread was staring at him from the center of the courtyard.
“You let me distract you,” she said quietly as she approached him. “My words threw you off. And thoughts of the disruptor?”
John nodded, recovering his composure with difficulty. Why had he reacted to her taunting? “I’m sorry. Let me try again.”
“It’s enough for tonight. Are you hurt?”
He dropped his hand from his bruised chest. “Pain means little,” he told her, echoing the words she always used with him.
She nodded agreement. “It is only pain.”
Even so, she examined him carefully from head to foot. She took a moment to inspect the healing bullet wound beneath his shoulder, which was visible through the loose neck hole of his undershirt. Up close, he could see the girlishness in her body and features, attributes that had become obvious as they began training in minimal clothing. Yet as Maud looked him over, he didn’t feel as though a girl were studying him, but rather as if he were being x-rayed by a hospital scanner. He looked away.
“You’re a good fighter, John,” she told him. “When you don’t get distracted.”
“That’s what everyone says—Briac, Alistair, Quin,” he muttered, his voice full of the frustration that had hounded him for years during his training on the estate. He was breathing hard from his run, and he worked to calm his lungs. He had been doing so well.
“It’s easy to throw you off. A few words, a gesture toward the disruptor, and you’re lost.”
She was still scrutinizing him, prodding gently at the places where his ribs had been bruised by rocks. It was unnerving when she stood so close.
Abruptly she finished and stepped back. “Pick up the disruptor,” she ordered.
John hid his unwillingness. He walked to the center of the courtyard and lifted the weapon from the ground. It was heavy, nearly solid metal, with a thick leather harness that added to its weight.
“Put it on,” the Young Dread said. She was still near the edge of the yard and was watching him, her face impassive but her voice commanding.
He slipped the harness over his shoulders, settled the disruptor to his body. Its