"Sit," he said, gesturing to the table. "Before the tea gets cold."
She sat carefully, trying to arrange the shirt for maximum coverage. Pointless, really, given how he'd seen her in far less. But the morning light made everything feel more exposed.
He poured tea with surprising delicacy for someone who'd taken an eye last night. "Your new rooms are being prepared."
"Oh." She wasn't sure why that made her stomach sink. "Where?"
"The adjoining suite." He settled across from her, watching her over his cup. "The door between can remain locked. Usually."
"Usually?"
"When I don't require access."
"You can't just—"
"Can't I?" He selected a piece of fruit, offered it to her. When she didn't take it immediately, he raised an eyebrow. "Eat, or I'll feed you myself. And we both know how that ends."
She took the fruit, biting into it with perhaps more force than necessary. Juice ran down her chin, and his eyes darkened.
"Messy little thing." He leaned across the table, thumb catching the juice before it could drip. "We'll need to work on that too."
"Work on what?"
"Your education. It's been... insufficient." He settled back, but his gaze remained intent. "You know how to move, how to serve, how to hide your responses. But after last night, it's clear you need more."
"More?"
"Malachar shouldn't have been able to corner you so easily." His jaw tightened at the memory. "You fought, yes. But ineffectively. Blindly."
"I'm human. He's a centuries-old Winter Lord. What exactly was I supposed to—"
"Survive better." He stood abruptly. "Finish eating. Then we continue your lessons."
"What kind of lessons?"
His smile was sharp with promise. "The kind that ensures no one ever pins you against anything again. Unless it's me."
Heat crawled up her neck. "That's not—"
"Isn't it?" He moved behind her chair, hands settling on her shoulders. "You need to understand leverage. How to use someone's strength against them." His fingers found the tension in her neck, pressed just hard enough to make his point. "Even someone stronger can be made vulnerable if you know where to touch."
"Like you're vulnerable?"
His hands stilled. "I didn't say that."
"But you implied—"
He spun her chair, caging her with arms braced on either side. "Lesson one: don't assume knowledge you don't have. It makes you reckless."
The warmth in her chest reached toward him without her permission.
"I'm not assuming. I'm learning."
"Are you?" One hand came up to trace her jaw. "Then tell me—what did you learn from last night?"
"That Winter Lords can't be trusted?"
"Broader."
