He didn't flinch. Not even a flicker. His head tilted slightly, his raven mask glinting under the diffused light.
"You won't," he stated, his voice calm, confident. "You know the angle. You know the depth."
"I was trained to kill," Arin retorted, her voice low and furious. "Not to maim. There's a difference."
"Precisely," Caldan said, a subtle triumph in his tone. "You know how to hold back. You know how to strike true, and still leave a man breathing, if that is your aim."
"This is ridiculous!" Arin snapped, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "There are a thousand other ways to prove a point that doesn't involve me gutting a prince in front of a pyre and a pack of drunken noblemen!"
"There are," he agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. "But none of them would send the right message."
