Cion handed me my share. It barely filled my palm. Still, he’d given me a bigger piece than all the rest. I wasn’t sure if that was because he thought I couldn’t survive on what the other boys did yet or because he thought I’d need it to survive his training. Either way, my stomach growled too much at the sight of the bread to question him. I shoved large fragments into my mouth. They took longer than normal to chew because of how dry my mouth had become. Swallowing it was like swallowing rocks.

I should’ve copied the other boys, who’d taken one ladleful of water before eating, one during, and one after they finished. I guess those were the things you learned over time.

I thought I’d be exhausted, but when I lay down for bed later that night, I couldn’t get to sleep. Despite the bread, hunger gnawed at me, almost as though the bread had awakened my stomach, reminding me that it did need to eat. Now it wanted more.

I rolled over and wrapped my arms around my middle and tried to think about something else. The only problem was, the thoughts that came to mind were worse. Everything from Yeri’s yellow skin to the abandoned children to the smile on Rodric’s face to what my father had done.

Especially what my father had done.

After an hour of letting my anger build and build and my stomach clench in on itself, I knew I needed to release it if I was ever going to fall asleep.

I needed to train. That was the one time where the rest of the world melted away. It became just me and my blade.

It wouldn’t help the pains in my stomach or the harsh ache in my throat, but I’d rather face those than my thoughts. I shoved back my blanket. The evening chill settled around me as I wandered through the tunnels looking for an abandoned room.

After a few wrong turns that led nowhere, I finally found myself in a decently sized alcove with firewood stacked inside. This would do perfectly.

I lit a few torches and balanced several logs end to end on top of one another. I slipped the knives from my sandals and threw them at my makeshift target. One thunked in right about mid torso. The other missed.

I collected them and threw over and over again. The even thuds when I hit the target weren’t enough to drown out my thoughts. I slipped one dagger back into its sheath and pulled out my sword. I still felt unbalanced without a shield. But Cion was right that I needed to learn to fight without it.

I charged forward.

Fighting an unmoving target wasn’t the same as fighting Cion. My goal was to leave a scratch on the logs and roll out of the way before they toppled over. I carved mark after mark into the sides of the logs. Ripping through where ankles would be. Jabbing right into makeshift ribcages. Diving out of the way.