“Wait,” I say slowly. “Are you saying you think I’m…?”
I trail off. I don’t know why. I don’t usually get flustered like this. I know what I look like. I know some people enjoy my features and others don’t, but my looks are the least interesting thing about me. And nine times out of ten I’m in scrubs and wearing questionable bodily fluids.
“Pretty?” I finish lamely.
Caziel doesn’t blink, doesn’t shift, but his voice is steady when he answers.
“You know what you look like.”
My stomach flips. Not in a romantic way. In a dangerously unprepared way.
“Well,” I say eventually. “I’ve got plenty of refusal to break. I’m practically made of it.”
His eyes soften. Only a little. Blink and I’d have missed it, but I didn’t. He shifts his stance and the room feels… heavy. Back to business I suppose. I knew better than to make jokes.
“The evaluations begin soon,” he says.
I straighten. “More tests?”
“Yes. For all contenders.”
I shift on my feet. “Another match?”
He shakes his head. “Not this time. The Flame will be present.”
That stops me cold.
“You mean like present present? Watching?”
“It doesn’t watch,” he says. “It judges.”
I try to keep my voice light. “What, like a magical personality test?”
He doesn’t blink.
“It doesn’t speak. It reacts. With light. With heat. With absence.”
“Absence?”
“Silence. Cold. Darkness.”
I stare at him. “And that means…?”
He looks at me for a long moment.
“It means you do not belong.” His voice is soft, but it hits like a hammer.
The room feels colder. Even with the sweat still clinging to my back. Even with him standing so close.
“But you’re training me anyway?” I ask. There’s no bitterness in it. Just… confusion. Curiosity.
He meets my gaze, steady and unflinching. “Yes.”
“Because you think I can pass?”
“No.” He hesitates. Then, quieter, “Because I think you should never have been asked to.”
He takes a step closer, and before I can process it, he offers his hand. This time, I don’t hesitate. His grip is warm. Strong. He pulls me easily to my feet.
