Lady Mutiny

Thirty-One

Accuracy versus precision.

Lilia remembered when she explained the difference to Andro once, that day in the gardens, what now seemed like so long ago.

Accuracy is the ability to actually hit a chosen target.

Her heart pounded, and the adrenaline coursed through her body as the knife flew from her hand towards its target, her concentration flawless and her aim exact.

Precision is being able to hit that target over and over and over again.

Too many times she imagined that moment, when she would have the clear shot to aim at Baz's heart, her dagger's blade begging to taste his blood as it penetrated his chest and pierced his heart.

But in all those instances, through all the scenarios, no training exercise could have prepared her for the one variable she never would have, or could have, expected.

Error.

The differential measurement between the chosen target and the actual target.

The better the precision, the less room for error.

But error has no room for mistakes.

Her first mistake could have been introducing Baz to Cass when she brought her sister to that party.

Her second she knew was allowing Andro to distract her too much at the Solstice Festival only a year ago.

Her third, and by far the worst mistake, was allowing Baz to get to Cass, to reach for her, when she was finally so close to finally getting her away from him.

So damn close...

But she didn't expect the dagger in his hand- she should have, but she didn't.

Her accuracy wasn't off in her urgency. She would swear by that until her final days. She let loose her blade the same moment she saw the knife, at the same time she heard Andro shout.

Lilia watched that dagger fly near the entire length of the tent, begging it to move faster, to find its target sooner.

And because she was distracted, she didn't know if it was Cass who jumped in front of Baz, or if Baz pulled her in front of him like a human shield.

But with her attention focused solely on her knife, she watched it wholly and completely as it penetrated not the material of Baz's shirt of the skin of his chest, but instead she had no choice to but to stare as it found its home, goring its way through the soft vitreous of her sister's eyeball.

The screams that resounded within the tent, and most likely throughout the festival grounds, originated from no one but Lilia.

Cass crumpled to the ground upon impact. The dagger pierced her eye and undoubtedly her brain instantaneously, the force of the throw unavoidable. The hilt of the dagger protruded from her eye socket as her body remained immobile.