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Someone coughs suspiciously behind us. Rhyven looks deeply unimpressed. I smile. This class is already improving. "Begin."

I reach inward. Blood Echo answers immediately. It doesn't need blood to manifest at its lowest level anymore. Not after weeks of training. A thin crimson shimmer gathers around my fingers. Controlled. Quiet. Mine. Rhyven watches. Not my hands. My shoulders. My breathing. Everything. I hate how well he knows my tells now. His manifestation appears slowly. Heat. Not fire. Something deeper. Older. The air around him distorts. A faint golden glow traces beneath the skin of his forearms. Dragon magic. Contained inside something human. Mostly. "Pressure." Professor Vayne orders. I push. Rhyven meets it. Immediately. Too immediately. My magic rebounds. I stumble. "Wrong." Vayne says.

Rhyven lowers his hands. "What?" He asks.

"You blocked." I answer.

"I matched."

"You blocked."

Rhyven looks irritated. Professor Vayne looks delighted. "Again."

Second attempt. I push. Rhyven adjusts. Better. Still wrong. My manifestation slips sideways. The energy dissipates. "Again."

Third. Fourth. Fifth. By the seventh attempt I'm sweating. Rhyven isn't. I resent him for it. "Stop anticipating."

I snap. "I'm not."

"You are." He says. "You telegraph."

"I do not."

"Your left shoulder moves."

"My left shoulder does not move."

"It just did."

"Because I'm arguing with you."

"Exactly."

I stare at him. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"It does."

"No."

"Again."

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

Professor Vayne slowly looks between us. Rhyven's expression becomes blank again. Too late. I grin. "You admitted it."

He's getting irritated. "Manifest."

"You enjoy irritating me."

"Vaelith." He warns.

"I knew it."

"Eirea."

My grin disappears. Not because of the order. Because he used my name. He almost never does during training. Something warm and irritating moves through my stomach. I hate it. "Fine."