“You were gone longer than expected,” Loren said. “Did Avry have a hard time finding the market?”

Quain chuckled.

I glanced at Kerrick to gauge his mood. Nothing. I’d get more information staring at a stone. Belen tried to take all my packages, but I kept a few. Loren and Quain helped Flea.

Finally, Flea said, “We had an opportunity to discover a few more details about Estrid and her forces.” He explained about the training camp as we headed to the cave. “And we need to rescue Avry’s sister.”

This last bit was met with stunned silence, including me. Then the questions started. Flea told them about Noelle.

“There’s no proof it’s her,” I said.

“We’ll do a reconnaissance first,” Flea said. “We’ll verify she’s there, then we’ll sneak in—”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” Kerrick said, as if that ended the discussion.

I had been thinking the same thing, but when Kerrick said no, my first instinct was to argue with him. “It wouldn’t be that dangerous to go have a look. If it’s her, then I don’t have to keep wondering if she’s alive or dead.”

“We’re not going near the camp. You can come back after…” An evil gleam shone in Kerrick’s eyes. “Promise you’ll heal Ryne, and we’ll take a look and see if it’s her.”

I felt as if he shoved his sword deep into my chest. Perhaps this was payback for making him choose between Belen and his prince.

“No deal,” I said. Proud my voice didn’t squeak, I increased my pace so I led the group back to the cave. So they couldn’t see the tears blurring my vision.

We returned and the others unpacked the supplies. It was my turn to cook, and I focused on the task at hand. With fresh ingredients, spices and herbs it would have been difficult to ruin the meal. Loren, Quain and Flea made appreciative noises. Belen proclaimed the roast the best he’d ever had. But I had no appetite, and I slid into my bedroll as soon as I could.

My thoughts returned to Noelle. If she was the missing street rat, being able to see her or even talk to her would be beyond wonderful. She probably knew the fate of Allyn and our mother, although just the fact she was alone meant bad news. They would never leave her if they were alive. Unless they had gotten separated by unexpected circumstances. Too many questions without answers. Were they worth my life? If she trained with Estrid’s soldiers, then she was relatively safe. And what if I’d promised to heal Ryne, and the girl wasn’t my little shadow?

I’d made the right decision. Although the desire to sneak away to see the camp for myself throbbed in my heart. Even if I hadn’t given my word not to escape, I wouldn’t be able to go very far before Kerrick dragged me back.

The knowledge that my choice was based in logic failed to remove the sharp knife of pain in my chest. Over the next couple days, I picked at my food, and stayed under my blankets as much as I could.

On the third day, Belen hauled me to my feet and cajoled me into leaving the cave. I squinted into the bright sunshine as fingers of cold air stroked my face and ruffled my hair. Loren and Quain practiced sparring with sticks instead of swords. Flea napped in a patch of sunshine. Kerrick, of course, was gone to I-couldn’t-care-less.

“See that target?” Belen asked.

A red circle had been painted on a tree trunk about forty feet away. “Yes.”

“Here.” Belen handed me my knives. “Even though my memories are fuzzy, I seem to recall someone needs to work on her aim.”

I stared at the daggers. Both gleamed. I wondered which one had embedded into that man’s thigh.

“That someone is you, Avry,” Belen said. “Try to hit the target with the knife.”

“I’m not in the mood for this. Maybe later…”

He refused to take the weapons or to move out of my way.

“You’re not going back to the cave until you hit the target,” he said.

I glared, but he remained unaffected. “Fine.” I grasped the end of the blade and threw the knife. It missed. So did the next one and the next and the five after that. Frustration welled. Focusing, I pushed all distracting thoughts and problems to the side and concentrated on the red circle. The knife hit the target and bounced off.

“There. I hit it.” I moved to leave.

Belen’s huge hand clamped onto my shoulder, stopping me in midstep. “Not so fast. It has to stick.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Too bad. So sad. Try again.”

My aim had improved, but none of the blades would pierce the bark. “It’s too far for me. I’m not strong enough.” My voice whined. Normally, I would have been appalled. Not today.

“No. You’re not putting enough heat behind it.”

“Heat?”

“Yeah, heat.” Belen scratched his arm as he searched for the right words. “Heat like energy, desire, emotion. Think of that target as a giant spider and then throw the knife.”

“I like spiders.”

“Then think of it as something you don’t like. A snake or a Death Lily. Anything.”

I aimed at the red circle and imagined an image on the tree’s trunk. Anger and annoyance in equal measure flowed through me. Whipping the knife, I put heat into the throw. A satisfying thunk sounded.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Belen said. “What did you think of? The Death Lily or the snake?”

“Neither.” Could I do it a second time? Conjuring up the feelings the image evoked, I sent the second blade deep into the trunk next to the other.

“Nice. See, you are strong enough.”

I pulled the knives from the bark, returned to Belen’s side and buried them both again.

“You got it. What gave you the motivation?”

“Kerrick’s face inside that target.” I sucked in a deep breath. Pain no longer stabbed quite so deep. Perhaps I needed to throw a few dozen more knives right between his eyes.

“That’s not nice,” Belen scolded.

“Too bad.” Thunk. “So sad.” Thunk.

“At least you’re smiling again. Think you can hit a moving target?”

“Maybe.”

“For any task, you need two things above all else. Confidence and practice. When you have those two, you can do anything.”

“A cheesy motivational quote. Kill. Me. Now.”

“Being nasty will only prolong your knife-throwing lesson.”

I shrugged. “Not like I’m doing anything else.”

“You could be running laps to get into shape. Climbing the Nine Mountains is strenuous in any weather, but particularly difficult in the winter.”

Ugh. “Sorry. How do you plan to mimic a moving target?”

“Quain rigged up a board with some ropes. Quain, are you ready to take a break?”

He and Loren finished their bout.

“Yeah, I’m tired of winning,” Quain said, wiping the sweat that dripped off his smooth head.

“You call that winning? I’d call it barely keeping up.” Loren’s red face and damp tunic told another story.

Flea woke, stretched and yawned. “Yep, that was a super exciting match. I’m glad you guys invited me to observe—I needed to catch up on my sleep.” He ducked as they flung their sticks at him.

We all walked to an area that had a long thin line of sight. At the end, a square piece of wood with a red circle on it hung down from the trees. Quain wrapped his arms and legs around a tree’s trunk and climbed into the lower limbs.

“Ready,” Quain said.

“Start slow,” Belen ordered. “Side-to-side motion.”

Quain yanked on the ropes, causing the board to sway.

“It’s all in the timing,” Belen said to me. “The aim and throw are the same, but now you need to release the knife at just the right moment.”

Flea and Loren watched. Guess I would have an audience. Yippee. Gripping the blade, I counted beats as the board swung one full circuit. No real reason why, just seemed like the thing to do. It didn’t work. After a few misses, I clipped the wood. I adjusted my timing and had another near hit.

When the knife’s tip stuck inside the circle, the guys cheered. Quain increased the pace of the swing. Again, I struggled to find the right release point. Eventually, I hit the mark. Then Quain became creative with the motion. Pulling on the ropes, he resembled a puppeteer. The board moved up and down and side to side. Once I hit the target, he changed the speed or the motion or both.