Chris forced himself to look away from Isolde before anyone could notice the anger that had flashed too openly through him.
He could not afford that. Not here. Not in front of the second-years, not with first-years watching from the higher seats, and certainly not with third-years present to judge the shape of the confrontation. Whatever Isolde had told him, whatever she had led him to believe about Sheila's weakness, could be dealt with later.
Right now, he needed control. He needed the arena looking at him again as though he still held the stronger position, not as though Sheila had taken his blade and calmly set it aside in front of everyone.
His smile returned.
It was slightly tighter now.
"Well spoken, Princess," Chris said, giving a small nod as though he were acknowledging a point in good faith. "Truly. I am sure many here appreciate such an honest answer."
Sheila watched him quietly.
