I collected the frayed ends of my control and made one final attack, whipping the knives in all directions in the hope I’d catch his flesh. It was the quickest I’d ever moved. It wasn’t even close to enough. The knife’s tip whizzed past the Guardian’s neck, only a smidgen away from slicing into his throat. But that smidgen might as well have been a continent. A miss was a miss. The knife was moving so fast it tore itself out of my grip, flying to the edge of the training circle, where it landed with a muffled thump. I dropped to my knees. “Get up,” the Guardian commanded.
