“I’m not sneaking out,” I say right away, matching his glare with one of my own. After all this time, Archer should know better than to doubt me. It irritates me to no end that I can never seem to earn his trust, no matter what I do. “I’m just jogging.”
“You are training,” he says. His glare hasn’t changed. There’s still deep-rooted suspicion in his eyes.
“I’m jogging,” I say. Maybe I am training, but I’m not about to admit it. “I want to be in good shape again.”
I stop talking a bit to steady my breathing again. Neither of us has shortened our strides. We’re keeping a brisk pace. Maybe too fast, honestly, but I’m not about to let up if he won’t.
“Being sick sucks,” I say. “I have to stay in shape, to keep my health up.”
“You are training because you are still hoping to be a warrior,
