"Retaliating would have given them the chance to abuse it, wouldn't it?"
Hearing that Selenne's mouth could only twitch.
Not in amusement.
Not in approval.
Just a flicker—a small, involuntary shift that betrayed something taut beneath the surface. The kind of reaction that comes not from surprise, but from recognition. From an old irritation finding a familiar shape.
Lucavion was too composed.
Too measured.
Too unsurprised.
Selenne narrowed her eyes, gaze sharpened like a blade pulled partway from its sheath. He wasn't shaken. He wasn't lashing out. He had come out of a trial visibly injured—injured by allies—and still spoke as if it were a matter of paperwork.
"You were targeted," she said quietly. "Not just ignored. Targeted."
Lucavion met her gaze without flinching. "You sure you want to call it that? The records don't."
Her voice cooled further. "Don't play clever."
Lucavion exhaled—slow, steady, unbothered. "Alright."
