55. Genevieve

I’ve never killed anyone before. I’ve run through hundreds of sparring routines, every offensive and defensive position you could imagine has been run through, in theory. To take a blade across a mans throat is different.

I thought it would be tougher, yet the sharpness of the bladed arrows and their silver made it like slicing through butter. Knowing that person wanted to harm Nikolai, Priya practically guided it for me, keeping my hand steady and nerves in check as the blow struck. Laden with bows and arrows the archers were not prepared for close combat at all.

The garbled, bloody noises the bastards made as they fell were harder to absorb. The briefest resistance from the windpipe as the blade followed its path. Kharkov, Jackson, and my father taught us all well. We knew to keep pushing the weapon as far as we could. To slash was not enough. The shove of the blade must be deep enough to put the man to the ground.

At the same time we were taught to use our free hand to rip out an