"That's enough of him." Dravok walked out onto the black ground and waved Caelvyrn back toward the couch. "My turn."
Trafalgar lowered Maledicta. "You?"
"He stands there and lets you hit him." Dravok raised his hand, the pale motes gathering over his palm until his plain sword dropped into his grip. "His scales do the work and he doesn't move his feet. That's a target, not an opponent." He rolled his shoulders once. "I'll be moving. If you can put that pulse into me, it's yours. If you can't, you go back to hitting the dragon for another week."
"Charming as always."
"I'm not here to charm you."
