The room had gone very quiet.
Milarca looked at him for a long moment. Took in the red eyes, the set of his jaw, the way his weight had shifted onto the balls of his feet without him seeming to notice he'd done it.
Something in her expression sharpened with interest.
"Oh," she said. "There it is."
"Excuse me?"
"That." She gestured loosely at his whole posture. "The thing under the politeness. I wondered if it was actually in there or if you were all soft edges underneath." She tilted her head. "Apparently not."
"You called what she went through training," Valerian said. His voice had gone very level. "I'd like you to explain that word choice."
"It's accurate," Milarca said, unbothered. "Training is what makes something survive. The Night Kingdom doesn't forgive weakness, boy. It never has. I made sure my sister wasn't weak." A pause. "I won't apologize for that."
