The training hall was quiet, shadows stretching across the stone floor. Layla lingered, her eyes sharp, restless, as if the silence itself was a challenge.
Dorian approached, his tone calm but asking. "You push yourself harder than anyone. What are you chasing, Layla?"
She smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Survival. Power. The Order doesn't reward weakness."
Dorian studied her, sensing she built around herself. "Strength without trust is breakable. You hide too much."
Layla stepped closer, her smile sly. "Maybe I just need someone who understands me... someone like you."
Her fingers brushed lightly against his arms, lingering. "You see through me, don't you, Dorian?"
Her voice was low, teasing, her eyes gleaming with challenge.
In a sudden movement, Dorian pushed her back against the table, his arms braced on either side, caging her in.
Layla's breath caught, her playful smile faltering as his eyes locked onto hers - steady, unyielding.
For the first time she stilled.
Dorian's voice was low, controlled. "I see more than you want me to. You hide behind charm, but I won't be fooled."
Layla swallowed, her confidence shaken, though her gaze didn't break. "Maybe you like being fooled."
Dorian leaned closer, his eyes burning into hers. "No. I like truth."
The intensity if his stare held her in place, stripping away her mask of flirtation.
The tension hung heavy between them, her flirtation stripped bare by his dominance. Layla's ambition flickered behind her silence, but Dorian had shown her - he was not someone she could bend so easily.
As she finally stepped back, her smile returned, sharper now, but her eyes betrayed the crack in her composure.
And in the shadows, Alaric watched, pleased at the sparks of conflict forming.