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Page 13 of Exquisite Monster (Dragons of Viria #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

________

KATALENA

M etal clattered on the floor when Gleym met me in the room I’d come to think of as the fighting ring.

Smaller, sharper knives spilled from a leather bag, sliding across the floor before her hand flew out, creating a glowing set of circles on the far wall.

They were a shade of violet that matched her eyes.

“What’s this?”

“I have decided you are right,” she said. “You are not strong enough to defeat a dragon, or, in reality, even wound one. Forcing you to pummel yourself into the stone trying to wound me is a foolish, useless endeavor.”

I blinked slowly. “Thank you so much for your vote of confidence.”

Gleym snorted a burst of smoke. “You have skills. It’s not an insult to tell the truth.

As we’ve already noted, in order to balance the scales at all, we must think differently.

I will keep training you as long as you are here, and if you can hit me, I will commend it.

There’s every chance you will have to fight a human, which would be a more even match.

But we must also think outside of that.”

Inclining my head, I bent and picked up one of the smaller knives. But upon closer examination, they weren’t knives at all. Longer and thicker, squared like nails, but light, and honed to brutal sharpness on both ends. “What are they?”

“Something that will use your current skills to your advantage, with some adjustments.” The metal barb disappeared from my hand and appeared in hers.

She smirked when I made a face. It was a move to show off.

Clearly. “They are meant to be thrown. You may not be able to, but you could catch a dragon off guard if you are fast enough. These also have other benefits for throwing distances. Precision. Silence. Poison. Even setting off traps.”

Throwing .

Looking at the shape, it made sense.

Varí scrambled into the leather bag and came out with three of them hanging from his mouth, and dropped them at my feet. I couldn’t help but laugh when his tail wiggled and he turned a fierce shade of orange. “You like these?”

He growled, and Gleym laughed too. “He thinks they’re like him. Small, fast, and can fly.”

“ Varí darts?”

The happy chirp he let out as he flew to my shoulder and rubbed his face under my chin had me smiling in spite of everything.

Even though I was glad Gleym and I had settled our differences and come to an understanding, restless frustration and anger still roamed under my skin.

Grief and sadness still clung to my lungs like every breath had weight.

Varí’s joy lifted that, if only for a moment.

“You think I can throw them?”

She nodded. “Try, and I’ll see how much work it will be.”

I took my time examining the metal in my hand.

It fit well there. But even though I was passable at throwing a knife, I could already see this wouldn’t be the same.

A knife turned end over end in the air, and you needed to feel just how hard and at what angle to throw it for the blade to strike.

These were so light that if they turned end over end, they would fall.

No, as I looked, I noticed the ever so subtle twisting of metal. These were meant to glide hard, fast, and straight. Almost like…

“These seem like crossbow bolts,” I said.

“They are similar,” Gleym said. “And there are mechanisms with which they can be shot. But you must also know how to throw them.”

Varí fluttered away so he wasn’t close before I looked at the target. I wasn’t sure how to release the dart from my hand. It needed my strength, but also speed.

I cocked my arm over my shoulder like one might throw a spear and hurled it.

It smacked against the wall with a clatter and fell to the floor. Well, that didn’t work.

“Again.”

I did try again. From every vantage I could come up with. Underhanded and over. Arced and straight. Harder and softer. My throws didn’t get any better, and as my frustration grew, my throws grew sloppier.

So many darts littered the ground by the wall that it looked like a debris field. There was one left before I’d have to collect them all. I brought it up to my opposite shoulder and hurled it with a frustrated yell. It struck the wall and fell.

But it had held on for a second first.

My breath froze, and I stared at it. Gleym smirked, satisfied.

“What did I do differently?”

“Think about the movement.” Every dart slid across the ground and ordered themselves neatly at my feet like an army. “Repeat it.”

I picked up a dart and obeyed. I brought my hand to my opposite shoulder before I flung it out. The windup allowed me to use what strength I had, and the release allowed the small projectile to fly straight. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even good. But it was something.

“Start there,” Gleym said. “If the very tip hits the wall, it will stay. That is all you are trying to accomplish. Power can and will come later. And use both hands. You never know which one will be free when you need it.”

It took me another ten tries to hit the wall properly. Once. And double that to do it again. Already my arms ached with the force of the repeated motion, on top of all the fighting and brewing of potions we’d already been doing. But I would take the pain if it meant I would get back to them faster.

Every time I managed to make a dart cling to the wall, I said their names.

Endre.

Sirrus.

Zovai.

Every strike was for them.

Until my arms ached and my lungs burned and sweat made the darts nearly slip from my fingers.

For them.

For them.

For them.