“He came back inside, muttering, took one of the skillets, and went back out. A few minutes later, he dragged me outside. He said a pot didn’t have the right balance, but a skillet would work if it was thrown properly. I spent two months practicing slinging a skillet before he declared me proficient enough to suit him.” Marian grinned at the memory.

“What does he consider proficient?” Surreal asked.

Marian didn’t look amused now. “Being able to break bone nine out of ten times.”

Surreal just gaped at her for a moment, and then started thinking hard. She was a damn good assassin. Just how much, under Lucivar’s training, could those skills be honed?

When they reached the practice circle, Wilhelmina hung back. Surreal pushed her way to the front. When an Eyrien warrior snarled at her for elbowing him in the ribs, she snarled back, pleased that he was the one to give ground.

She looked around, saw Daemon, and felt her breathing hitch. He looked calm enough, standing there with a mug of coffee in one hand, but his face had that set look that she’d seen when they were in the Coach on the way here. It wasn’t as bad as it had been then, but it wasn’t good.

Then Lucivar started talking, and she put her concern for Daemon aside for the time being.

“There are reasons why Eyrien males are the warriors,” Lucivar said, his eyes skimming over the women as he paced slowly down the line and back again. “We’re bigger, stronger, and we have the temperament for killing. You have other strengths and other skills. Most of the time, that works out well. But that’s no reason for you to be unable to defend yourselves. And before you give me any shit about not being able to handle a weapon, I’ll remind you that most of you don’t have any trouble using kitchen knives, and some of them are as big as a hunting knife. They just look different. And some of you will want to wiggle out of this training by telling me that, no matter how much she knows, a woman can’t hold her own against a male. Right?” Looking at the other practice circle, he roared, “CAT! Get over here!”

Wondering why he’d want a feline, Surreal looked toward the circle. Her breath came out in a hiss as the woman talking to Karla, Morghann, and Gabrielle turned around. “Jaenelle,” she whispered.

She focused on Daemon again. He didn’t look shocked to see Jaenelle. Maybe they’d already had a chance to talk. Maybe…No, it was probably way too early to think about those maybes.

The other women strode toward the practice circle. Jaenelle came more slowly, her eyes fixed on Lucivar while she whipped the stick around her waist with enough force to sting the air.