There's a limit to what a human being can take in provocation. And this piece of shit just crossed mine.
I turn fully toward him. My energy detonates—a contained blast that sends every nearby cadet's instinct screaming at once. Freya, already several paces away, stops. Looks back over her shoulder.
I take the first step. My instinct is already calculating the second step as an explosive dash. My grip seats on Eventide's hilt, ready for the draw.
A hand closes over mine before I can pull.
Veric.
He looks deep into my eyes and shakes his head. A clear 'don't.'
"Not here, Sands. Look around you."
I hear his voice and I look around.
A few dozen cadets have already turned toward us. Conversations frozen mid-sentence. The training instructor at the far end of the corridor has stopped tracking the wall clock and started tracking me.
Freya's lackey—the one who whispered—swallows hard. The audacity I'm projecting has visibly shaken him.
