Sorasa hardly gave her a moment to adjust, already fixing her grip. She rearranged Corayne’s hold on the dagger, wrapping her fingers one by one. “Tight but not too tight, see? Don’t lock your joints, in your hands or anywhere else.”

Again Corayne flushed. She hated getting things wrong, and had little experience with it. At least I used to, until the realm decided to crash down on my head.

“Good.” Sorasa nodded, eyeing her hand. Her own dagger, one of many, flashed before Corayne even knew it was drawn. She blanched, falling back a step. “Don’t worry,” Sorasa said, “You’re generations away from crossing blades with me. Just watch, mimic, memorize. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

I am, Corayne thought, her flush giving over to a tentative smile.

The drills were not difficult, built on repetition and memorization. Draw, parry, stab, slice, twist, double-grip, backhand, switch. Corayne didn’t have the same strength behind her blows, and her form was nothing compared to an Amhara, fallen or otherwise. But it’s something where there was nothing before, she thought, wiping away a bead of sweat.

“Excellent—at least I know how to hold a dagger now,” she said when Sorasa slowed, dropping her weapon back into her belt.

The assassin smirked. “If only you knew how to hold your tongue.”

Until now, Sigil had been content to watch, but no longer. She rolled her shoulders, waving Sorasa out of the way. “Let’s see if you know how to throw a punch, Corblood,” she said, dropping her guard and bending so that her face was within reach. “Go ahead.”

Behind her, Charlie gestured a blow. “She’s not kidding.”

“Don’t tuck your thumb, unless you want to break your hand,” Sorasa added, taking a seat next to him, leaning back on the grassy ground.

Corayne blinked at them both, then at Sigil. The bounty hunter only stared back, expectant, the edge of her jaw like an anvil.

“Is this how the Temur show affection?” Corayne said weakly, squaring her shoulders. Shift your weight, she thought, adjusting her stance.

“We Temur are free with our love and free with our anger,” Sigil answered, matter of fact. She tipped her head, presenting her face for a blow.

When her knuckles connected, Corayne realized what a very, very bad idea this was. She howled in pain, feeling fire in her hand, and nearly fell to the ground, clutching her wrist. “By the Spindles,” she cursed, shaking out her fingers. Her knuckles were already red, close to swelling. “Adalen’s tears,” she yelped, and continued to swear in every language she knew.

Sigil chuckled, standing up straight.

“Well?” Sorasa asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Honestly, not as bad as I thought,” Sigil answered, sounding shocked.

It didn’t lessen Corayne’s pain, but it did make it easier to bear. “You’re not the first person I’ve ever punched,” she hissed through her teeth, shaking her hand again. “Just the most painful.”

Proud, Sigil slapped a hand against her jaw, then beat a fist on her broad chest. “The iron bones of the Countless will never be broken,” she boasted, a rally cry of the Temur.

Charlie didn’t let her gloat long. He tipped his head, pretending to think. “Didn’t I break your arm in Pennaline?”

“You did not break my arm; your paramour did,” Sigil snapped, flexing the arm in question. Corayne saw no evidence of injury. “And he had to use a hammer to do it.”

“Ah yes. Such happy memories,” Charlie said, looking wistful.

It felt wrong to laugh when so much hung in the balance, but Corayne laughed all the same. “Has anyone told you how strange you all are?”

Sigil winked. “How strange we are, Cor girl. And you’re far from finished,” she said, gesturing for Corayne to start again. Reluctant, the girl did as told, squaring off with a bounty hunter twice her size.

“Punch here. One,” Sigil said, raising her right hand, palm out. “Punch here. Two.” The left hand. “And keep those feet moving. Duck when I strike.”

“I’d rather you didn’t strike,” Corayne mumbled, her hand still smarting.

Sigil didn’t give her any more time to grumble, both hands dancing in succession. “One, two, two, one, two, one, one.” She raised each in succession, catching Corayne’s blows in her massive hands.

When she yelled, “Duck!” Corayne was ready, dropping under a swipe from her long arm, with a grin.

“Good!” Sigil cried out, her smile wide, showing big teeth. “Good concentration. You’ve got focus; you know where to keep your eyes. That’s something.” She tapped Corayne on the forehead. “Now duck,” she cackled.

I suppose I should be used to the ground by now, Corayne thought, hitting the grass with a painful thud. She heaved a shaking breath. Sigil struck like a charging horse and her head spun. The corner of her mouth smarted, wet with a trickle of blood.

“Are you afraid?” Sorasa’s face wheeled above her, crowned in dizzying stars.

Corayne didn’t have the strength to lie. “Yes.”

Judging by Sorasa’s smile, it was the right answer.

“Fear is a well-honed instinct, useful as any steel edge,” she said. “It’s kept me alive more times than I care to count. So let that fear in, let it fill you up, let it whisper and guide. But do not let it rule.”

Corayne shakily nodded her head. “I won’t let it rule.”

The assassin looked satisfied. “There are no greater teachers than fear and pain.”

“By the wings of Baleir, what are you doing?”

A blur of golden hair and emerald-green eyes shouldered Sorasa out of the way, pulling Corayne to her feet. She wavered, unsteady, clutching an arm for support. There was pain, but she leaned into it. The pain means I learned something.

Sorasa snarled, a tiger before the hurricane. She jabbed a finger into his chest, color rising in her cheeks. “What we should’ve done since the second we found her.”

Dom eagerly rose to the challenge, snarling right back. “Corayne is the hope of the realm, the only thing standing between Allward and complete destruction.”

The assassin threw up her hands, exasperated, losing her infinite control piece by piece. “Exactly! She should know how to defend herself when we can’t.”

Someone dabbed at her lip and Corayne turned to find Andry standing close, a kerchief in hand, the edge of it stained red. She took it gratefully, holding the cloth to her bleeding mouth.

“It’s fine. They’re good teachers,” she said, stepping between Dom and Sorasa. Almost as good as pain and fear. “Even if I’m bad at almost everything.”

The Elder and the assassin glared at each other, breaking at precisely the same time, turning on their heels to stalk away. Thank the gods, Corayne thought.

While the rest set to cooking breakfast, Andry hesitated, remaining close.

Corayne checked her lip with her fingers, then realized she was probably covered in dirt. She felt oddly self-conscious in front of him, though Andry Trelland had seen her in all states by now.

“Your horsemanship could use some work as well,” he mumbled, scuffing a boot.

When she struck his shoulder, she was careful to keep her thumb untucked.