Page 59

I held out my hand.

He took it and folded my fingers down one at a time before moving my thumb into place.

"Outside," he said. "Always keep your thumb outside. Otherwise you'll break it, and then who'll have the most beautiful hands on earth?" Before I could answer, he stepped behind me. "All right?"

I nodded.

He placed one hand on my hip and closed the other around my wrist, then slowly drew my arm back into position. That put him close enough that I could feel the warmth of him against my back and hear every word right beside my ear.

"From here," he said. "Turn your hip. Now."

I struck his raised palm, but the blow landed weakly.

"Terrible," he said, looking delighted. "Again."

The fourth time, I hit him hard enough to make my knuckles sting.

Jax gave a low whistle. "There she is."

He didn't release my wrist immediately.

For a few seconds, he stayed behind me with his thumb resting against the inside of my wrist, directly over my pulse. I realized a moment too late that he could feel exactly how fast my heart was beating.

"Your heart's going very fast, reina," he murmured, "for someone who keeps telling me to go away."

"Go away."

He laughed softly near my ear, then finally released me and did exactly that.

I stayed in the corridor for another minute after he left, my hand still curled into a fist with my thumb correctly positioned on the outside.

I saw less of Silas.

He trained alone in the Pit early in the morning, usually before anyone else was awake. Once or twice, when I crossed the courtyard at dawn, I saw him there striking the heavy bag with an unnerving degree of patience and control.

Whenever he noticed me, he stopped long enough to give me a single grave nod.

I always nodded back.

Neither of us mentioned the bear. I wasn't sure we needed to.

On a gray morning during the third week, I found myself stopping at the edge of the Pit instead of continuing across the courtyard. Silas stopped too, one bandaged hand pressed against the swinging bag, and looked over at me.

"Ankle?" he asked.

"Better."

"Good."

The silence stretched on long enough that most people would probably have taken it as a sign to leave.

Instead, I sat down on the bench.

Silas watched me for a moment. "Waiting for something?"

"No."

He considered my answer, then released the bag.