“Don’t try to catch a falling knife,” he says.
I pull my hand back.
“Let’s put it away for now.” He picks up the dagger and slips it in his sheath. “Now listen. You don’t need a weapon to protect yourself.”
I cross my arms and scowl at him.
He grins and rubs his hands up and down my arms. “I’m not going to teach you anything difficult. If someone comes at you, I don’t want you to be nice, you understand?”
“All right.”
Why would I be nice to someone attacking me?
Galinor steps forward. “There are several areas you can do the most damage easily: eyes, nose, groin, knees, and neck.”
I chew my lip, nervous.
“Gouge them in the eyes if you can.” He shows me how to arrange my fingers. “Use the palm of your hand and thrust it upward into their nose.”
I cringe.
“Kick them on the side of their knee. Hard.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do this, Galinor.”
He steps toward me. “That’s what I mean. You can’t benice. If you need to use this, it’s because someone wants to hurt you. You hurt them first so you can get away. All of this is just so you can escape.” He continues, “If you think you can, hit them in the throat. If all else fails, knee them in the groin—but be careful they aren’t expecting it, or they can grab your knee.”
We go over the moves, and he helps me. I feel more confident, but I’m not sure what I would do if someone like Dimitri’s big man tried to grab me from behind again. When I tell Galinor about it, his expression grows dark.
“I'm all right.” I set my hand on his arm. “Now show me what to do should it ever happen again.”
Gently, he wraps his arm around my neck. “If they grab you like this, I want you to slam your head back into their body. Elbow his stomach and then hit him in the groin. That should knock off his balance enough that you can twist and get away.”
He has me practice a few times, and by the time we’re finished, I’m exhausted.
Galinor nods. “Good. And if all else fails, you can jump on his back and pummel him with a rock.”
I laugh as I get back on Mara, feeling a little more confident. My smile fades as we ride.
Soon I will be home.
It feelswrong to knock on my own door, but that’s what I do. Just as promised, Galinor stands behind me. The manor looks the same as always. Ivy climbs the stonewalls; the dark wood shutters are open wide to let the autumn sunshine in, and my mother’s herb garden grows in the entry.
Our housemaid opens the door. “Good afternoon—” She freezes, the door only halfway open. “Anwen,” she whispers. Her eyes move to Galinor, and she frowns.
“Hello, Brynna.” I work very hard to keep my voice even, but I’m afraid I just sound cold.
“Come in.” She steps aside. “I’ll fetch your mother.”
She scurries away, and I roll my stiff shoulders. The tension returns as soon as I hear my mother’s boots clicking down the hall. Hushed whispers are exchanged, but they end abruptly when the two women enter.
My mother’s face is white, and she stops and stares at me. Her blonde hair, so much like mine, is meticulously styled, and her gown is immaculate. If it weren't for the shadows under her eyes, I wouldn’t know she lives in a house with a curse.
I bite my cheek to keep from crying.
“Anwen,” she breathes. She runs the last few steps and throws her arms around me.
I’m so surprised, I don’t return her embrace at first. Finally, when she grabs my shoulders to look at me better—and I see the tears running down her face—I come to my senses and wrap my arms around her.
