"Look at your feet," he says. "You're putting your weight on the front of your feet and you look like you're about to tip over. Plant yourself in place," he says. "But be ready to move. Your weight should rest on the heels of your feet," he says, tapping the back of his own foot.

"Fine," I snap, angry now. "I'm standing on the heels of my feet. I'm not tipping over anymore."

Warner looks at me. Captures my eyes. "Never fight when you're angry," he says quietly. "Anger will make you weak and clumsy. It will divert your focus. Your instincts will fail you."

I bite the inside of my cheek. Frustrated and ashamed.

"Try again," he says slowly. "Stay calm. Have faith in yourself. If you don't believe you can do it," he says, "you won't."

I nod, slightly mollified. Try to concentrate.

I tell him I'm ready.

He swings.

My left arm bends at the elbow in a perfect ninety-degree angle that slams into his forearm so hard it stops his swing. My head has shifted out of the way, my feet turned in the direction of his punch; I'm still standing steady.

Warner is amused.

He swings with his other fist.

I grab his forearm in midair, my fist closed around the space above his wrist, and I take advantage of his surprise to throw him off-balance, pulling his arm down and yanking him forward. He almost crashes into me. His face is right in front of mine.

And I'm so surprised that for a moment I don't know what to do. I'm caught in his eyes.

"Push me," he whispers.

I tighten my hold around his arm, and then shove him across the room.

He flies back, catching himself before hitting the floor.

I'm frozen in place. Shocked.

Someone whistles.

I turn around.

Kenji is clapping. "Well done, princess," he says, trying not to laugh. "I didn't know you had it in you."

I grin, half embarrassed and half absurdly proud of myself.

I meet Warner's eyes across the room. He nods, smiling so wide. "Good," he says. "Very good. You're a fast learner. But we still have a lot of work to do."

I finally look away, catching a glimpse of Adam in the process.

He looks pissed.

FORTY-FIVE.

The days have flown by, kites carrying them off into the distance.

Warner's been working with me every morning now. After his workout, and after my training with Kenji, he's carved out two hours a day to spend with me. Seven days a week.

He's an extraordinary teacher.

So patient with me. So pleasant. He's never frustrated, never bothered by how long it takes me to learn something new. He takes the time to explain the logic behind every detail, every motion, every position. He wants me to understand what I'm doing on an elemental level. He makes sure I'm internalizing the information and replicating it on my own, not just mimicking his movements.

I'm finally learning how to be strong in more ways than one.

It's strange. I never thought knowing how to throw a punch could make a difference, but the simple knowledge of understanding how to defend myself has made me so much more confident.

I'm so much more aware of myself now.

I walk around feeling the strength in my limbs. I'm able to name the individual muscles in my body, knowing exactly how to use thema"and how to abuse them, if I do things wrong. My reflexes are getting better, my senses are heightened. I'm beginning to understand my surroundings, to anticipate danger, and to recognize the subtle shifts in body language that indicate anger and aggression.

And my projection is almost too easy now.

Warner collected all sorts of things for me to destroy, just for target practice. Scraps of wood and metal, old chairs and tables. Blocks of concrete. Anything that would test my strength. Castle uses his energy to toss the objects into the air and it's my job to destroy them from across the room. At first it was nearly impossible; it's an extremely intense exercise that requires me to be wholly in control of myself.

But now, it's one of my favorite games.

I can stop and crush anything in the air. From any distance across the room. All I need are my hands to control the energy. I can move my own power in any direction, focusing it on small objects and then widening the scope for a larger mass.

I can move everything in the training room now. Nothing is difficult anymore.

Kenji thinks I need a new challenge.

"I want to take her outside," Kenji says. He's talking directly to Warnera"so casuallya"something that's still strange for me to see. "I think she needs to start experimenting with natural materials. We're too limited in here."

Warner looks at me. "What do you think?"

"Will it be safe?" I ask.

"Well," he says, "it doesn't really matter, does it? In one week we'll be outing ourselves anyway."

"Good point." I try to smile.

Adam has been unusually quiet these past couple weeks.

I don't know if it's because Kenji talked to him and told him to be careful, or if it's because he's really resigned himself to this situation. Maybe he's realized there's nothing romantic happening between me and Warner. Which both pleases and disappoints me.

Warner and I seem to have reached some kind of understanding. A civil, oddly formal relationship that balances precariously between friendship and something else that has never been defined.

I can't say I enjoy it.

Adam doesn't interfere, however, when James speaks to Warner, and Kenji told me it's because Adam doesn't want to traumatize James by giving him a reason to be afraid of living here.

Which means James is constantly talking to Warner.

He's a curious kid, and Warner is so naturally private that he's the most obvious target for James's questions. Their exchanges are always entertaining for all of us. James is thoroughly unapologetic, and bolder than most anyone would ever be when talking to Warner.

It's kind of cute, actually.

Other than that, everyone has been progressing well. Brendan and Winston are back to perfect, Castle is in better spirits every day, and Lily is a self-sufficient kind of girl who doesn't need much to be entertaineda"though she and Ian seem to have found a sort of solace in each other's company.

I suppose it makes sense that this kind of isolation would bring people together.

Like Adam and Alia.

He's been spending a lot of time with her lately, and I don't know what that means; it might be nothing more than friendship. But for most of the time I've been down in the training room, I've seen him sitting next her, just watching her sketch, asking the occasional question.

She's always blushing.

In some ways, she reminds me a lot of how I used to be.

I adore Alia, but sometimes watching them together makes me wonder if this is what Adam's always wanted. A sweet, quiet, gentle girl. Someone who would compensate for all the roughness he's seen in his life. He said that to me once, I remember. He said he loved that about me. That I was so good. So sweet. That I was the only good thing left in this world.

I think I always knew that wasn't true.

Maybe he's starting to see it, too.

FORTY-SIX.

"I have to visit my mother today."

These are the seven words that begin our morning.

Warner has just walked out of his office, his hair a golden mess around his head, his eyes so green and so simultaneously transparent that they defy true description. He hasn't bothered to button his rumpled shirt and his slacks are unbelted and hanging low on his waist. He looks completely disoriented. I don't think he's slept all night and I want so desperately to know what's been happening in his life but I know it's not my place to ask. Worse still, I know he wouldn't even tell me if I did.

There's no level of intimacy between us anymore.

Everything was moving so quickly between us and then it halted to a complete stop. All those thoughts and feelings and emotions frozen in place. And now I'm so afraid that if I make the wrong move, everything will break.

But I miss him.

He stands in front of me every day and I train with him and work alongside him like a colleague and it's not enough for me anymore. I miss our easy conversations, his open smiles, the way he always used to meet my eyes.

I miss him.

And I need to talk to him, but I don't know how. Or when. Or what to say.

Coward.

"Why today . . . ?" I ask tentatively. "Did something happen?"

Warner says nothing for a long time, just stares at the wall. "Today is her birthday."

"Oh," I whisper, heart breaking.

"You wanted to practice outdoors," he says, still staring straight ahead. "With Kenji. I can take you with me when I leave, as long as he promises to keep you invisible. I'll drop you off somewhere on unregulated territory and pick you up when I'm heading back. Will that be all right?"

"Yes."

He says nothing else, but his eyes are wild and unfocused. He's looking at the wall like it might be a window.

"Aaron?"

"Yes, love."

"Are you scared?"

He takes a tight breath. Exhales it slowly.

"I never know what to expect when I visit her," he says quietly. "She's different each time. Sometimes she's so drugged up she doesn't even move. Sometimes her eyes are open and she just stares at the ceiling. Sometimes," he says, "she's completely hysterical."

My heart twists.

"It's good that you still visit her," I say to him. "You know that, right?"

"Is it?" He laughs a strange, nervous sort of laugh. "Sometimes I'm not so sure."

"Yes. It is."

"How can you know?" He looks at me now, looks at me as though he's almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Because if she can tell, for even a second, that you're in the room with her, you've given her an extraordinary gift. She is not gone completely," I tell him. "She knows. Even if it's not all the time, and even if she can't show it. She knows you've been there. And I know it must mean so much to her."

He takes in another shaky breath. He's staring at the ceiling now. "That is a very nice thing to say."

"I really mean it."

"I know," he says. "I know you do."

I look at him a little longer, wondering if there's ever an appropriate time to ask questions about his mother. But there's one thing I've always wanted to ask. So I do.

"She gave you that ring, didn't she?"