Soren didn't answer.
She pressed forward, not attacking, simply matching his pace. "You think I didn't read the testimony? The shield splintering? The ricochet burn on the cliffside?"
He tightened his grip.
"That was situational," he said.
"Everything is situational," she replied. "Show me."
He didn't.
She advanced again, ferocity controlled, blade angled just enough to force him back but not enough to threaten.
"Show me."
He shook his head. "If I do, I—"
"You what?" Lysandra stepped into his guard so fast he didn't see the movement until her blade was tapping lightly—mockingly—against his chest. "Lose control? Kill an instructor? Reveal what you really are?"
Coren's breath caught.
Lysandra's voice dropped to a quiet, lethal line.
"You are not Coren Vale."
His blood froze.
But before panic could form—she added:
"Not the version written in your file, at least."
A fraction of relief. A fraction too much.
Valenna whispered sharply:
"She's baiting you."
