Elysia blinked, a faint crease forming between her brows—not confusion, exactly, but a pause. A rare glitch in her usual seamless response time.
She tilted her head. "I do not understand."
Damien smirked, stretching his legs out in front of him, muscles still twitching slightly beneath the skin. "You have trained in combat, did you not?"
Elysia straightened slightly. "Yes."
"Then starting tomorrow," he said, leaning his weight back onto his hands, voice casual but firm, "you're going to teach me how to fight."
Another pause.
Then—subtle, almost imperceptible—her brows drew together again.
"That would not be appropriate," she said. "I do not have the qualifications to be your instructor."
"Why?" Damien asked.
Her mouth parted slightly, but no answer came.
"I…" she started, then stopped.
He leaned in, grinning. "You don't know how to teach?"
There was a long silence.
Then—slow, reluctant—she gave a small nod.
Damien chuckled. "Well. We won't know without trying."
