Flashback ( PDFDrive )

Humiliation burned her cheeks. But there was something else—
something cold and sour and shuddery.
“You don’t think I can do this.” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking
to herself or Sandor at that point.
He answered her anyway. “Wrong. I’m positive you can. I just dread
the toll it’s going to take on you—and your friends.”
“Did they get splattered at the beginning of their training too?” she
wondered.
“I don’t believe so. But I’ll make sure they do. It’s essential that
you’re all physically and mentally ready for battle. So plan on further
surprises to your own lessons as well.”
“More fake blood,” Sophie mumbled. “Noted.”
“Blood is only part of the horror. Battles have their own sounds.
Their own smells. Their own pace. You’ve experienced pieces of it at
times. But I fear someday you’ll face it on a much larger, much more
overwhelming scale. And while I’ll be right there at your side, I do
agree that it’s best for you to be able to fight back as much as you can.
So how about we spend the remaining thirty-six minutes of today’s
lesson on a skill that should feel a bit more comfortable for you. I
promise no more surprises today.”
Thirty-six minutes sounded like a very long time.
But Sophie let Sandor lead her away from the now red-stained
dummy.
“So what are we working on?” she asked, after several long beats of
silence.
“This.” Sandor spun around and flicked his arm.
The tiny dagger flew out of his hand, blurring through the air and
stabbing straight between the dummy’s painted eyes.