Nell was on the flags before the first light had reached the wall.
She stood in the middle of the yard in her thin shirt, with her cloth wound tight round her palm and her feet apart. Her breath went in on four. It came out on six. She did not look at Calen, and she did not look at Kade, who was waiting at the far end with a blunt steel blade in his hand and a scowl on his face.
“Three runs,” said Calen. He had told her the rule the night before, and he told it again now. “Each one under stress. Each one clean. Nobody stops you unless I do.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
“You shout the count while you do it. Out loud. Every breath.”
“Yes.”
Kade lifted his blade. “The Duke has been informed,” he said loudly, to the sky. “The Duke will be as unkind as the Ministry allows.”
“Start,” said Calen.
