❝ I knew, from that moment on,
that nobody could ever confess,
they love me, without the splintered thought of you
running through my mind.
Consciously or not, my soul will always be tangled
with you. ❝
Aurora Matthews, the daughter of Jeanine Matt...
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When we came back, I trudge into the training room, a large target stands at one end of the room, and next to the door is a table with knives strewn across it. Target practice again.
Eric stands in the middle of the room, his posture so rigid it looks like someone replaced his spine with a metal rod. The sight of him makes me feel like all the air in the room is heavier. At least when he was slouched against a wall, I could pretend he wasn't here. Today I can't pretend.
"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," Eric says. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone picks up three knives." His voice is deeper than usual. "And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."
At first no one moves.
"Now!"
We scramble for daggers.
"He's in a bad mood today," mumbles Sarai.
"Is he ever in a good mood?" I murmur back.
But I know what she means. Judging by the poisonous look Eric gives Four when he isn't paying attention.
I watch Four's arm as he throws a knife. The next time he throws, I watch his stance. He hits the target each time, exhaling as he releases the knife.
Eric orders, "Line up!"
Eric paces too quickly behind us.
"I think the Noses' taken too many hits to the head!" remarks Peter, a few people down. "Hey, Nose! Remember what a knife is?"
Ignoring him, I practice the throw again with a knife in hand but don't release it. I shut out Eric's pacing, and Peter's jeering, and the nagging feeling that Four is staring at me and throw the knife. It spins end over end, slamming into the board.
I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself.
"Hey, Peter," I say. "Remember what a target is?"
Next to me, Sarai snorts, and her next knife hits the target.
Taking two knives at a time, I looked towards the target, focusing on what the aim was.
"Don't tell me what I think you're going to do?" Sarai questions looking at me.
With enough force and concentration, I hit and stick both knives in the middle of the target.
"You're kind of good at this." Sarai relieves as I look towards her.
A half hour later, Al is the only initiate who hasn't hit the target yet. His knives clatter to the floor or bounce off the wall. While the rest of us approach the board to collect our weapons, he hunts the floor for his.
The next time he tries and misses, Eric marches toward him and demands, "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"
