CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Timothy
I told myself I was going to the training hall to work the heavy bag, and not because she’d be there.
She was there.
Of course she was. The camp kept everyone else on a schedule, but Lily Bradford had appointed herself to some private one. Lately that private one kept overlapping with mine at the hour when the hall emptied out and the last light came slantwise through the high windows.
I’d noticed. I’d tried to un-notice.
She was on the mats in the far corner, barefoot, running through a wrist-release drill against nobody.
She did it correctly, which she wasn’t supposed to be able to do.
That was the thing that kept catching in me like a hangnail. The Lily I’d known couldn’t have found the training hall with a map.
“You’re staring,” she said, without loo
