I rolled in the mud, frantically fumbling to get to my feet. As soon as I was up, he swung at me again, this time aiming for my stomach, and I barely deflected the strike. The metal of our weapons sang as they rebounded off one another. “Faster,” he barked. “Keep your feet.” I sucked in a breath before he came at me again, angling left, then right. My movements were sluggish, my hold on the knives faltering. He knocked the blade from my left hand, sending it flying toward the edge of the training ring. “Stop dropping your fucking knife,” he bellowed. “I’m trying,”
