Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(34)

“Um, it’s been a while,” I said.

“Yeah.” It was times like this I remembered that before he was a trained soldier of the Sect, he was also just a kid like me, a boy of eighteen. He looked as nervous as I did, his eyes focused on the punching bag instead of on me. “I hope you didn’t think I was too short with you back there in the briefing room,” he said. “It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while.”

The side effect of dodging his calls for weeks. That was how I’d treated him. Even after he’d nearly died protecting me. Even when I wanted to know why he ever would.

“You didn’t visit, either. At the hospital, I mean,” he said, giving me a wry smile as he tilted his head sideways. I turned the moment I noticed my throat begin to tighten. “I thought maybe you forgot I existed. It’s all right, I forgive you,” he added jokingly.

I didn’t tell him that I had visited him three times, but each time he was sleeping, and I begged the nurses not to let him know I’d been there. During every visit, I studied his face and watched the rise and fall of his chest, wondering to myself whether he was really a killer—and whether I’d really be able to turn him in if it was true. And to whom? The Sect? Or Belle.

Belle. My body froze up from the very thought of her murderous anger. If he had killed Natalya, and if she found out . . . if I said a word about it . . . Belle would kill him. There was no doubt about it. She would murder him in front of me.

Maybe it was better if I never knew.

I walked away from him back to the swinging punching bag. “Why are you here?” I steadied it with my gloved hands. “I thought you, Sibyl, and your dad were planning the next mission.”

He paused. Maybe he wasn’t used to me referring to his father. Well, he’d never even mentioned him in first place.

“I came to find Belle,” he answered simply, and my hands froze before I could even ready my strike. “There are some things about her report on your last mission I wanted to clear up. You’re boxing now?”

The thought of him and Belle interacting sent my blood pressure up. Sucking in and out a deep breath only marginally helped release the anxiety.

“Yeah, it’s good stress relief.” Which is what I needed right about now.

Rhys was much taller than me. When he stood next to me and rested his hand on the punching bag, he showed every bit of his six feet. “You’ve been working hard, huh?”

“That I have.” Pride slipped into my voice as I said it, and I didn’t know why, but the little boyish grin that followed made me glad I’d told him. “You should have seen me out there, Aidan. I’m a veritable badass these days.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

But Rhys was already taking off his jean jacket, showing the white short-sleeved undershirt he’d been wearing beneath it. His broad frame filled out the fabric almost deliciously.

“What are you doing?” I asked again, blushing as I kept my eyes on his toned arms.

Rhys scratched his eyebrows. “Take off your gloves. Let me see what you’ve got.”

There was something still so unassuming about him even though I knew how long he’d trained for, how strong he was. How dangerous. And not just to phantoms.

I stepped back, unsure of whether to stay or go, or whether I could, even if I wanted to. My hairs were standing on end, my face continued to flush with heat, and while it didn’t feel all that good, it didn’t feel all that bad, either. This was crazy. This was why I’d gone through such great lengths to avoid him. Because being in his presence meant facing this dizzying, entangled mess of contradictory emotions. Stay or don’t. Believe Natalya or don’t. My hands were twitching.

I needed to punch something.

I threw off my gloves and lifted my arms in a ready stance. Rhys raised his eyebrows, but soon his surprise turned to excitement. He waved me over. I tried one strike, hard and fast. He dodged it easily, stepping to the side, but I went after him anyway. It’s not like I wanted to hurt him. But somehow the drive of a good fight cut through the thick of emotions and, for that one moment, gave me the kind of peace I so sorely needed. I had just one thing to focus on. One goal: land a punch. Simple. Unlike my life.

But Rhys was too good. He never struck back at me, only dodged, ducking and weaving, tilting his head, tapping my arm away to tip me off balance. Fast. Precise.

Then he swiveled around me and tugged the back of my shirt almost playfully. I paused and stared at his grinning face in surprise, and before I knew it, my lips were spreading too. His smile was infectious. I launched at him again, my heart pounding, and not just from physical exertion. Despite his speed, I still noticed the way his forearm stretched and flexed as he moved, the slight strain in his long neck as he lifted his chin to avoid my strike. His body maneuvered fluidly, carefully. Gentle but powerful. It suited him.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said when he let out an adorable little laugh.

“I mean, you’ve gotten better, but you’re not exactly in the badass category yet.” He caught my wrist and pulled me in to him. My breath hitched as he leaned over too close. “Unless you’re going easy on me?”

I craned my neck up to meet his gaze. A catlike gleam turned his narrowed eyes wicked as he stared down at me. I could feel his breath against my face. We were both breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling in different rhythms. It almost made me forget.