"I said," he murmured, not unkindly, "don't waste my time."
Lucavion's blade didn't move.
"If that's the performance you're going to show," he said flatly, voice neither sharp nor soft, "then do it on your own next time."
He pulled the estoc back with one clean motion and turned his back on her again.
Elara didn't move.
Her hands trembled slightly as the rush of mana cooled, scattered by failure. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breath. Pain gnawed beneath her ribs where she'd taken the brunt of his last strike—not enough to bruise bone, but deep enough to burn.
She didn't wince.
But her jaw tightened.
A flicker passed through her—somewhere between shame and fury. Not because he'd overpowered her. No. She'd expected that. Had known from the start this wouldn't be fair.
But he had said it.
Lucavion.
'You of all people—'
