"Do you understand?"
Thaleia nodded and looked down at her hands. They were trembling slightly, a physical manifestation of the psychic static he was describing. "So you are saying I am the one making this inefficient. That any failure of the synchronization lies with my lack of quick action."
"I am saying you are allowing uncertainty to interfere," Edward corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "When I kissed you, I felt the shift immediately. Your mana fluctuated. It spiked in a desperate burst of heat, then retreated into a cold, defensive shell. That is wasted flow, Thaleia. Every time you pull back, the circuit breaks, and we have to start the conduction from nothing."
Her cheeks reddened again. This time, however, it wasn't the soft glow of maidenly embarrassment; it was the sharp, stinging flush of frustration directed inward.
