If—rather, when—I escaped, I’d be saying good-bye to all that. Good-bye to Ronan. Good-bye to a shot at the sense of family I’d always longed for.

There was my training to consider, too. I couldn’t deny I was enjoying every minute. It’d been chemical compounds for me in the morning, and was shaping up to be a knife-wielding afternoon. I was learning new things. Learning how to be strong.

But I was also learning how to be a woman. Which is partly why Priti held such fascination for me. Growing up without a mom, with a front-row seat to my dad and the Yatch, I didn’t know much about femininity, about how the power of it went beyond styled hair and a good pedi. I’d spent these past months studying Priti’s every move, knowing she had far more to teach than merely combat techniques.

As a result, I found myself standing straighter. I practiced on the Trainees, letting myself hold their gazes, just to see how they’d react. And the reaction was generally positive. I’d never realized before how simpleminded boys could be.

I heard faint whispering from the bleachers but ignored it, feeling hostility aimed my way. It bugged a lot of the girls that I was one of Priti’s favorites. She was so elegant and lovely, I guess other Acari felt she should’ve snubbed a wallflower like me right off the bat.

And I don’t know why she hadn’t. Maybe I was a project for her. I worked hard, got hurt a lot, but never said anything. Maybe she sensed that, too.

I glanced over at my waiting classmates. They were watching our little exchange, envy and hatred in their eyes. I decided to prolong it. “Is today the day you let me try your chakra?”

Priti laughed. “You know it’s not, little Acari.” She eyed my bag. “But I see you brought your shuriken.”

I hugged it close to my side, thinking of my throwing stars tucked safely inside. I took them most everywhere now, like Emma with her hunting knife. “How can you tell?”

“I can see it in your eyes.” She chucked my chin, and her lithe five-foot-eleven frame alongside my meager five foot two must’ve been a comical sight. “And by the way you’re clutching that bag.”

“Does that mean you’ll finally let me use them?” I’d been dying to learn how to throw them, but Watcher Priti said I still needed time.

Her face bloomed into a gorgeous, pearly smile. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“Ohmygosh, really? Today?” I restrained myself from jumping up and down in giddy anticipation. “Yes. Totally ready.”

“Today, then.” Lowering her chin, she sharpened her tone. “And now I think it’s time you took your seat, Acari Drew.”

Class was unending. We worked through a circuit of standard sword and dagger exercises. Shoulder and arm warm-ups, weight work, footwork, basic defensive maneuvers. All interminable. My only thought was for the four perfect stars in my locker.

I was at the kendo station, practicing a standard series of lunges, arcing swings, and footwork. The long bamboo sword felt like an extension of me, and I repeated the moves by rote.

“Very nice, Acari Drew.” Priti snatched the end of my sword in midair. She eyed me speculatively. “I know you enjoy our sword work. Shuriken may have sharp edges, but they’re very different, you know.”

Was this her lead-up to finally letting me throw them? “I’m sure,” I agreed quickly. I’d agree with anything; I just wanted the stars. I was so eager to try them.

She narrowed her eyes in challenge. “I’m not sure you’re listening to me. You must prepare yourself to miss the mark. Many times.”

“I’m ready.”

She didn’t look like she agreed with me, but nonetheless she told me, “Go get them.”

I raced to my locker and was back before Priti could have a chance to change her mind. I met her at the target station, a throwing star in my hand, the others wrapped in velvet at my feet.

I raised my arm, ready to throw. Nervous excitement jangled through me.

“Patience, Acari Drew.” She stilled my arm, giving me an amused smile. “Shuriken is an art form. The exercise mental as well as physical.”

She wrapped my fingers around the star. It was cold, sharp. Not so much larger than my palm. “Feel the weapon. Shuriken is Japanese for ‘dagger in hand.’ Feel the edges. More than any knife, it is an extension of you. Nothing separates you from the steel. No artificial handle, no imperfection of the blades.”

Priti took my shoulders, guiding me into position. “When you throw a knife, you must worry about distance. Not so for the shuriken. Yours have six points. Six opportunities for the weapon to hit its mark.”

She squatted a bit, standing behind me, bringing herself to my eye level. “Now look at the target. You aren’t just throwing at it. You are extending yourself, your will, your power, toward it.”

I’d been contemplating that bull’s-eye all semester. But I opened my mind this time. I extended my energy toward it. As though the target and I were connected by the finest thread.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You see it, don’t you? Watchers are taught a mantra. Listen, and hear the words.” She cradled my arm extended before me. “I am roots in the earth. I am water that flows. I am grounded. I am Watcher.”

Slowly she pulled away. “Now breathe. Feel the ground at your feet. Feel the weapon as a part of your hand. Relax and feel the connection.”

I did. My head rose, my shoulders dropped slightly. I felt lighter.

“That’s it, Acari. Stay relaxed. Always relaxed. The movement isn’t merely in your arm. It’s not just a flick of the wrist. You must draw energy from the ground beneath your feet. Let the energy flow up from the earth and through your body. Into your arm. Your movements should be fluid. When you throw, you cast the shuriken from you as though riding on a wave of power.”

I did. I felt it. The soles of my feet were grounded to the floor. I was connected to the earth. The sensation of power rose from below, through my feet, shooting up my body, tingling all the way to the tips of my fingers.

I felt her whispered breath in my ear. “Now.”

I threw.

The star flew from my hand on a wave of power. And then clattered to the floor.

I heard a couple of girls behind me snicker.

I felt my face turn beet red.

“Again, Acari. Without pause. You must try again and again.” Priti patted my shoulder and walked away. I heard her shout a crisp order to one of the other girls, but her words didn’t register.

The only things that existed were me, my shuriken, and the target. I tried again. Again I heard the disappointing ping of metal hitting the ground.

I tried over and over. And each time my star bounced off the target, clattering to the ground.

I felt the other students gathering their things, heading to the locker room. I kept my back to them. I didn’t care if I had to stay all night. I was determined to get this.

Again and again I tried. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Until.

I knew the moment the shuriken left my hand that it was the one. I’d felt it. It had flowed straight from me. Riding on a perfect wave. I felt it going directly for the target, like a line being reeled back home. It hit and it stuck.

I heard a single pair of hands clapping for me. Turning, I saw Emma smiling at me. I realized I hadn’t really seen her smile before. It warmed that heart-shaped face, opened it up. She was pretty.

She glanced at the clock. “You’d better git,” she told me in that Fargo accent.

Many of our classmates had already showered. They sat waiting for Watcher Priti’s final words.

I tucked my stars carefully in their velvet wrapper and headed to the bleachers. I’d have to skip my shower and change later.

“Hey, little piggy.” Lilac made exaggerated sniffing sounds. “Disgusting. I can’t sit near this.” She and her crew shifted to one of the rearmost bleachers.

I smiled. High school barbs and minidramas meant nothing to me. I’d learned how to throw like a ninja.

Watcher Priti came to stand before the class. She was freshfaced and glowing, looking statuesque in a white jumper. It was hard to imagine she was capable of great savagery, though I knew she surely was. A woman wasn’t elevated to her rank without a flair for cold, calculated combat. I had a picture of her in my mind, beaming her pearly smile while beheading wayward Draug with her chakra.

“Wonderful news, little birds. We’ve determined the subject area for this semester’s Directorate Award.”

Heart kicking into gear, I edged to the front of my seat. This was it. She was going to tell us what our big, end-of-semester challenge would be. Math? I wondered. Some computer-programming thing?

“It will be a single-elimination tournament format. You will face off against an Acari challenger. If you lose, you’re out. If you win, you face the next Acari. You do this over and over until either you lose or you win the tournament.”

I hung on her every word, my mind racing. A tournament? But what would we compete in? Were they going to give us some sort of all-around trivia challenge?

Watcher Priti gave us her signature smile. It meant good news for me; I knew it. “This semester’s chosen discipline is . . .”

I held my breath.

“. . . combat.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall, forcing myself to concentrate. Dinner had been almost impossible. I’d made myself drink—with an upcoming combat challenge, I’d be a fool not to—but that was about all I’d managed.

Master Alcántara had said participation in the competition was voluntary. I could back out. But then I’d lose my shot at traveling off this rock. At escape.

Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if one’s decision to enter or not enter the challenge weren’t part of the whole test. Watchers were the best of the best, and Acari were expected to be driven, to be contenders.

I’d just never thought of myself in that way before. Motivated and determined, yes. But a contender?

I slammed my Norse book shut. It was no good reading anything tonight.