The swirling blizzard around them thickened, cutting off their view of the larger battlefield. Within this cocoon of wind and snow, Lyra and Selene faced each other across ten paces of bloodstained ground.
Selene's mercury-like water pulsed with that organic light, shifting and flowing around her arms like living tattoos. "You fight well for someone untested by true war," she said, her voice carrying easily through the storm. "But you've only seen parlor tricks."
Lyra rolled her shoulders, water already gathering around her fists. "Then stop wasting my time with yours," she shot back, her tone carrying the same edge it had when facing down bullies in training yards. "I didn't come here to listen to lectures."
'Arrogant bitch thinks she can intimidate me with fancy water tricks. I've been underestimated before—usually right before I prove them wrong.'
"Silence would serve you better," Selene said coolly. "Words are wasted on the dead."
