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"Against my will."

"You ate voluntarily."

"Under emotional duress." He gives me a flat look. I smile into my coffee. Silence settles for a moment.

Not awkward. Not heavy. I look around the empty Dominion Hall. The overlapping circles from our manifestation exercise are gone now. Recarved. Cleaned. No crimson. No gold. No evidence anything impossible ever happened here. My thoughts begin moving again. Blood Echo. Council. My father. Evaluation. Rhyven catches it before I say a word.

"Stop."

I look at him. "I didn't do anything."

"You're doing it now."

"Doing what?"

"Leaving."

I frown. "I'm standing right here."

"Physically." Oh. Annoying. Accurate.

I set down the cup. "What if I fail?" The question escapes quietly enough that I almost wish he hadn't heard.

He does. Of course he does. "You won't."

I roll my eyes. "Very convincing."

"You asked the wrong question."

My gaze returns to him. "What should I have asked?"

His answer comes immediately. "What happens when you pass." Something inside me stills. Not magically. Just still. I search his face for sarcasm. There isn't any.

"You make that sound inevitable."

"It is."

"Rhyven—"

"You know your manifestation." He says. "You know your limits. You stop when you should."

"Usually."

"You're irritatingly observant."

"Thank you."

"Not a compliment."

"It sounded suspiciously close." That earns me the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Then his expression steadies. "Your father being in the room changes none of that."

There. The real problem. I look away. "He changes plenty."

"No." The word is firm. "He changes how you feel." A pause. "Not what you can do." Gods. Why does he always manage to say the thing I don't want to hear and need anyway?

"He'll find something." I say.