“I’m focused.”
A pause.
“They’re baiting you,” he continues. “The gathering. The whispers.”
“I know.”
“And you’re reacting.”
“I’m preparing.”
His gaze doesn’t shift.
“Then prepare smarter,” he says. “Not harder.”
My grip tightens slightly on the blade.
“I don’t need?—”
“You don’t need to prove anything,” he cuts in. “Not like this.”
Silence stretches.
The pulse in my hands hasn’t fully settled yet.
“They want you to lose control,” Skot says. “Because it’s easier to remove you if you do.”
I know that.
I’ve always known that.
“I won’t,” I say.
He nods once.
“Then don’t.”
He turns slightly, already leaving.
“And watch the human,” he adds.”Stay wary of her.”
My gaze sharpens.
“What about her?”
“I was not the only one who noticed your interest.”
The words settle cold.
I look back at the post, at the splintered wood where my blade struck harder than it should have.
“I have no interest in the help,” I scoff, and it sounds so sincere I almost believe it myself.
Skot dares to smile.
“You lie poorly,” he says, turning away from me. “Do work on that skill, before your lack of acumen causes your head to roll from your shoulders.”
I can’t help but feel my neck on reflex. One of my older brothers, Ziditri, he dared displease father. Father smote his ruin with less effort than I use to stir my tea.
