As the spar ended, The lord stepped forward calmly. From within his robes he withdrew a small vial, uncorking it. "Drink."
Nyra didn't hesitate, downing it in one gulp.
The effect hit instantly, her chest steadied, her limbs no longer shaking. Aether rushed through her veins, knitting stamina back into her body faster than Arden's healing could manage.
Arden whistled low. "Well, guess I'm out of a job for today."
The lord crouched slightly, his gaze steady on his daughter. "That was good. More than good. You've talent, Nyra, but more importantly, you've the will to push. Be ready tomorrow. I won't make it easy."
Nyra's lips curved into a tired but wide smile. "Yes, father."
He gave one last approving nod, then stood and walked out. His steps were slow, but Nyra felt the weight of them linger long after he'd gone.
Arden leaned over, eyebrow raised. "So, how does it feel to get lectured and praised at the same time?"
