Arthur's azure eyes tracked Tiamat the way a swordsman checks ranges and angles. Then his lips curved. The glint in his gaze said he'd found what he expected.
'As expected.'
He couldn't read her exact rank, but he didn't need to. The weight of her presence put her near the same shelf as Alyssara and his mother. Months ago, Alyssara had shut him down in seconds during the banquet. Tiamat felt at least that strong—and likely far beyond.
"How daring," Tiamat said, smiling. "To try and measure me like blade length."
'Good. Then I don't have to hold back.'
He moved.
Space tightened around his arm. Time thinned. Gravity tipped forward so nothing leaked to the floor. His "punch" was a blade—Sword Unity wrapped from shoulder to knuckle, his sword's edge bound to his fist. The strike arrived as a needlepoint collapse of distance.
Tiamat caught it.
No boom. No crack. The force went into her palm and did not come back out.
"Get serious," she murmured, eyes narrowing a shade.
