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Most disturbing of all, some of them still have blood on them, and have clearly never been cleaned, and the smell coming off them is metallic enough that my senses squirm with disgust. God knows what he's doing with his wolf senses. Silas goes straight to the other side where the dirtiest weapons are and pushes them aside. The loud clatter of them on the floor makes me jump until he grabs two long, thin swords from the back. He takes them by the wrists and comes back to me, gently tapping one against my chest, not caring if I drop it when I fumble to pick it up. The sword, although smaller than his, is much heavier than it looks. But it's clean of blood. A little bonus. Silas storms out, not waiting for me or looking back once.

I grab the sword and carry it back to the main training room where he returned. Silas returns to the middle of the room, where he pauses and waits for me, curving his hand to beckon me to his side. The whole move is overly sarcastic, and I wonder if he's going